- Macbeth

“What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.” “My hands are of your colour but I shame to wear a heart so white. A little water clears us of this deed: How easy it is then! Your constancy hath left you unattended.”