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MACBETH She
should have died hereafter.
There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
20Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
25That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
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MACBETH She would have died later anyway. That news was bound to come
someday. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. The days creep slowly
along until the end of time. And every day that’s already
happened has taken fools that much closer to their deaths. Out, out,
brief candle. Life is nothing more than an illusion. It’s
like a poor actor who struts and worries for his hour on the stage
and then is never heard from again. Life is a story told by an
idiot, full of noise and emotional disturbance but devoid of
meaning.
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Enter a MESSENGER
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A MESSENGER
enters.
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Thou
comest to use
Thy tongue; thy story quickly.
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You’ve come to tell me something. Tell me quickly.
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MESSENGER Gracious
my lord,
30I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do ’t.
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MESSENGER My gracious lord, I should tell you what I saw, but I
don’t know how to say it.
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MACBETH Well,
say, sir.
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MACBETH Just say it.
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MESSENGER As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I looked toward Birnam, and anon methought
The wood began to move.
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MESSENGER As I was standing watch on the hill, I looked toward Birnam, and I
thought I saw the forest begin to move.
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MACBETH Liar
and slave!
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MACBETH Liar and slave!
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MESSENGER
35Let me endure your wrath, if ’t be not so.
Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.
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MESSENGER Punish me if it’s not true. Three miles from here you can
see it coming, a moving forest.
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