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Why should I play the Roman fool and die On mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them
Turn, hellhound, turn!
Despair thy charm, And let the angel whom thou still hast served tell thee Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripped.
As easy mayst thou the interchant air With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed. Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life, which must not yield to one of woman born
Then yield thee, coward. And live to be the show and gaze o' th' time. We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, painted upon a pole, and underwit. " Heree may you see the tryant."
I will not yield to young malcom's feet And to be baited with the rabbits curse. Though Birnam Wood become to Dunsinane And thou opposed ' being of no women born' Yet i will try the last.
Before my body i throw my war like shield. Lay on ' macduff' And dammed be him that first cries " hold! enough!"
Some must go off; and yet by these I see So great day as this is cheaply bought
I would he firends we miss were safe arrived.
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