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Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble IV.i 10-19; 35-38
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. 2.1.44
Thou hast it now—king, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the weird women promised, and I fear Thou played'st most foully for't. 3.1.1
What, you egg! act IV scene 3, line78
She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. (5.5.20-31)
I'm Malcolm, the new king of Scotland!
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