3

Macduff

                                         Bleed, bleed, poor country.
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure
For goodness dare not check thee. Wear thou thy wrongs,
The title is affeered. Fare thee well, lord.
I would not be the villain that thou think'st
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
And the rich East to boot.

Malcolm

Macduff

Malcolm

Macduff

Malcolm

Macduff

Malcolm

Macduff

Malcolm

Macduff

Malcolm

Macduff

Malcolm

Macduff

[Enter a Doctor]

Malcolm

Doctor

Malcolm

[Exit Doctor]

Macduff

Malcolm

[Enter Ross]

Macduff

Malcolm

Macduff

Malcolm

Ross

Macduff

Ross

Macduff

Malcolm

Ross

Macduff

Ross

Macduff

Ross

Macduff

Ross

Macduff

Ross

Malcolm

Ross

Macduff

Ross

Macduff

Ross

Macduff

Ross

Malcolm

Macduff

Ross

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Ross

Malcolm

Macduff

Malcolm

Macduff

Malcolm

Macduff

Malcolm

[Exit]

Malcolm

                                           This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may;
The night is long that never finds the day.
[Exit]

Porter

Knock, knock, knock. Who's there? Faith, here's an 
English tailor come hither, for stealing out of a French 
hose. Come in, tailor, here you may roast your goose.    

Porter

Therefore, much drink may be said to be an equivocator 
with lechery. It makes him, and it mars him; it sets
him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him;
makes him stand to, and not stand to — in conclusion, equivocates him
in a sleep and, giving him the lie, leaves him.

Ross

In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day,
He finds thee in the stout Norwegian ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as hail

Ross

Strange images of death. As thick as hail
Came post with post, and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defense,
And poured them down before him.

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