The Rain, It Raineth Every Day.

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.

Oh, God! I Have An Ill-divining Soul!

Think'st Thou It Honourable For A Noble Man Still To Remember Wrongs?

A Substitute Shines Brightly As A King Until A King Be By, And Then His State Empties Itself, As Dot An Inland Brook Into The Main Of Waters.

The Will Is Deaf And Hears No Heedful Friends.