A Scottish Nobleman


‘We are sent, To give thee from our royal master thanks’

 ‘Who was the thane lives yet;, But under heavy judgment bears that life, Which he deserves to lose.

 ‘Near Birnam wood, Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.’

 ‘Now does he [Macbeth] feel, His secret murders sticking on his hands;’

 ‘Those he[Macbeth] commands move only in command, Nothing in love’

 ‘His[Macbeth] title, Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe, Upon a dwarfish thief.’

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