When shall we three meet again?, The raven himself is hoarse that croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan under my battlements., Come to my woman’s breasts and take my milk for gall,, Look like th’ innocent flower, but be the serpent under ’t., If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well it were done quickly., I dare do all that may become a man. Who dares do more is none., But screw your courage to the sticking place and we’ll not fail., Bring forth men-children only, for thy undaunted mettle should compose nothing but males., Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell that summons thee to heaven or to hell., The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures. ’Tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil.

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