This Tyrant, Whose Sole Name Blisters Our

O, How Full Of Briers Is This Working-day World!

The Thane Of Cawdor Lives, A Prosperous Gentleman; And To Be King Stands Not Within The Prospect Of Belief, No More Than To Be Cawdor.

Though Inclination Be As Sharp As Will, My Stronger Guilt Defeats My Strong Intent, And, Like A Man To Double Business Bound, I Stand In Pause Where I Shall First Begin, And Both Neglect.

That Which Hath Made Them Drunk Hath Made Me Bold; What Hath Quenched Them Hath Given Me Fire.

Now The Fair Goddess, Fortune, Fall Deep In Love With Thee, And Her Great Charms Misguide Thy Opposers' Swords!