double, double toil and trouble.Fire burn and cauldron bubble
a deed without a name
How now, you secret black, and midnight hags?What is ’t you do?
I conjure you by that which you profess—Howe'er you come to know it—answer me.
Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care.Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are.Macbeth shall never vanquished be until.Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill.Shall come against him.
That will never be.Who can impress the forest, bid the tree.Unfix his earthbound root? Sweet bodements! Good!Rebellious dead, rise never till the wood.Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth.Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath.To time and mortal custom.