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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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That way the noise is.--Tyrant, show thy face!

 Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. 
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above

 Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night, 
South from the mighty power of the king.
 No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm; Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman Shall e'er have power upon thee.--Then fly, false thanes, But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, What does the tyrant? Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror: Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night, If we be conquered, let men conquer us,