Thane of Cawdor, Thane of Glamis. Poem

Witches:
"When shall we meet again?
Methinks I shall hear those old chimes!
Fair is foul and foul is fair;
citrus hanging in the crisp autumn air!"

Lady MacBeth
"Noble Thane,
how is thy courage attached?
A flourish trifles the front,
and a crash of thunder from the back!"

The Thane
"Anon, a sconce!"

Lady MacBeth
"Screw it to the sticking place!"

Witches:
"Until the woods come forth from Dunsinane,
Or issues forth a man not born of woman,
does the King Macbeth chance to remain,
nor does throne-ward blood kick forth again!"

Fleance:
(with a flourish)
"I am slain!"
(cue dancers, "(Just Came In To See)What Condition My Condition Was In")

The Thane
"Out! Out! Brief Candle!
Such as is said, he who smelt it dealt it,
guile from the vixen, and murder be of her issue,
Only the fool who was taken in to be complicit
will be allowed to suffer forth and continue!"