LADY MACBETH

POWER HUNGRY

MANIPULATIVE

How now, my lord, why do you keep alone,Of sorriest fancies your companions making,

Using those thoughts which should indeed have diedWith them they think on? Things without all remedy

Should be without regard: what's done, is done.

HAUNTED

The raven himself is hoarseThat croaks the fatal entrance of DuncanUnder my battlements. Come, you spirits

That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,And fill me from the crown to the toe topful

Of direst cruelty