My spirit friend, Harpier, is yelling, “It’s time, it’s time!”
The tawny cat has meowed three times.
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware Macduff. Beware the thane of Fife. Let me go. Enough.
I hope he’s not anywhere so disreputable that thugs like you can find him.
Where is your husband?
I’m talking about myself. I know I have so many vices that when people see all of them exposed, evil Macbeth will seem as pure as snow in comparison, and poor Scotland will call him a sweet lamb when they compare him to me and my infinite evils.
Even in hell you couldn’t find a devil worse than Macbeth.
Fit to be king? You're not fit to live! I hold no hope for Scotland!
I''m only testing. I had to know where your morals lie, Macduff.