Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits: The flighty purpose never is o’ertook Unless the deed go with it: from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done: The castle of Macduff I will surprise; Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o’ the sword His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool; This deed I’ll do before this purpose cool. But no more sights!⁠—Where are these gentlemen? Come, bring me where they are. Exeunt.