All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!
All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!
What, can the devil speak true?
He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor,
We will establish our estate upon Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter The Prince of Cumberland;
The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step On which I must fall down or else o’erleap, For in my way it lies.
But in these cases We still have judgment here, that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague th’ inventor.
Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar Upon his death?
When we have marked with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber and used their very daggers, That they have done ’t?
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