macbeth act 4
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Double, double, toil and troubleFire burn and cauldron bubble
Be bloody, bold and resolute; laugh to scornThe pow’r of man, for none of woman bornShall harm Macbeth
On to Macduff's castle!
From this momentThe very firstlings of my heart shall beThe firstlings of my hand
My husband left us and by fleeing looks like a traitor!
He has killed me, mother.Run away, I pray you!
Macduff, this noble passion,Child of integrity, hath from my soulWiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughtsTo thy good truth and honor.
Be this the whetstone of your sword. Let griefConvert to anger. Blunt not the heart, enrage it.
He has no children. All my pretty ones?Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?What, all my pretty chickens and their damAt one fell swoop?