Double, Double toil and trouble: fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble.
Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten her nine farrow; Grease, that's sweaten from the murderer's gibbet, throw into the flame
Come, high or low; thyself, and office, deftly show!
Fit to govern! No, not to live.
O nation miserable, with an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd, when shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, since that the truest issue of thy throne by his own interdiction stands accursed, and does his blaspheme his breed?
My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.
My countryman; but yet I know him not.
Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes, savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner, were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, to add the death of you.
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