Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,
And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,
Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand,
No son of mine succeeding.
Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Mur. We are men, my liege.
Mac. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men.
Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 1.
I am one, my liege,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world