Act 4, scene 1 Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed.Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.Harpier cries “‘Tis time, ’tis time.”Round about the cauldron go; In the poisoned entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone,Days and nights has thirty-one,Sweltered veno, sleeping got, Boil thou first in the charmed pot.Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf, Of the ravined salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digged in the dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew,Slivered in the moon’s eclipse, Nose of Turk and Tartar’s lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe,Ditch-delivered by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab. Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron, For the ingredients of our cauldron.Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.Cool it with a baboon’s blood, Then the charm is firm and good.By the pricking of my thumbSomething wicked this way comes
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