(..) Then, prophet-like, they hailed him father to a line of kings. Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown and put a barren sceptre in my grip, thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand, no son of mine succeeding. If it be so, for Banquo's issue have I filed my mind. For them (..)

(..) 'Twas a rough night. (SHARP INTAKE OF BREATH) Confusion now hath made his masterpiece. Most sacrilegious murder hath broke open the Lord's anointed temple and stole thence the life of the building. The life? LENNOX: Mean you His Majesty? MACDUFF: Bid me not speak. You see. Speak yourselves. Awake! (..)