First Witch He knows thy thought: Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
What is thy sentence then but speechless death.
Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.
My language! heavens!I am the best of them that speak this speech. Were I but where 'tis spoken.
Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
I can give the loser leave to chide.
Be checked for silence, But never taxed for speech.
His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend. His backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract.
Rude am I in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace.