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Second Witch
āBy the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comesā
Malcolm
āThis tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest. You have loved him wellā
Macduff
āBleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dare not check theeā
Malcolm
āMacduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts To thy good truth and honorā
Lady Macbeth
āOut, damned spot! Out, I Say! ā One, two. Why, then, ātis time to doāt. Hell is murky!ā
Lady Macbeth
āAll the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little handā
Macbeth
āBring me no more reports. Let them fly all. Till Birnam Wood remove to Dunsinane I cannot taint with fearā