Duncan: What bloody man is that?

God, these extras!

...


Macbeth: 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, signifying nothing.

Elton John Goodbye English Rose/ May you ever grow in our hearts/ You were the grace that placed itself/ Where lives were torn apart Excuse me ... bleaagh!

...

Macbeth: Thou losest labour: as easy mayst thou the intrenchant air with thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed: Let fall thy blade upon vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life, which must not yield to one of woman born.

Nah, nah, nah nahner!

Macduff Despair thy charm; and let the angel whom thou hast served tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb untimely ripp'd

Oh, shit!