The Thane Of Cawdor Lives, A Prosperous

Thou Shalt Be Free As Mountain Winds: But Then Exactly Do All Points Of My Command.

Good Reasons Must Of Force Give Place To Better.

What's More To Do, Which Would Be Planted Newly With The Time, As Calling Home Our Exiled Friends Abroad That Fled The Snares Of Watchful Tyranny, Producing Forth The Cruel Ministers Of This Dead Butcher And His Fiend-like Queen, Who, As 'tis Thought, By Self And Violent Hands Took Off Her Life; This, And What Needful Else That Calls Upon Us, By The Grace Of Grace We Will Perform In Measure, Time, And Place.

Hang Those That Talk Of Fear.

There's Nothing In This World Can Make Me Joy.