| Creeps in this petty pace from day to day | Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow |
| To the last syllable of recorded time | Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day |
| And all our yesterdays have lighted fools | Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time |
| The way to dusty death out out brief candle | Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools |
| Life’s but a walking shadow a poor player | Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death out out brief candle |
| That struts and frets his our upon the stage | Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death out out brief candle life’s but a walking shadow a poor player |
| And then is heard no more | Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty face from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death out out brief candle life’s but a walking shadow a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage |
| It is a tale | Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty face from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death out out brief candle life’s but a walking shadow a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more |
| Told by an idiot | Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death out out brief candle life’s but a walking shadow a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more it is a tale |
| Full of sound and fury | Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death out out brief candle life’s but a walking shadow a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more it is a tale told by an idiot |
| Signifying nothing | Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death out out brief candle life’s but a walking shadow a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more it is a tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury |
Macbeth soliloquy
October 6, 2019