What’s that, you runt? (stabbing him) Young son of a traitor!
Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep
That every minute of his being thrustsAgainst my near’st of life
We’ll do what you want us to, my lord.
fly.fly.fly
none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth.beware of macduff.Macbeth shall never vanquished be untilGreat Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane HillShall com against him.
i shall tread on the tyrants head
Even in hell you couldn’t find a devil worse than Macbeth.
