Theatre

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow

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Macbeth, on hearing of his wife’s death:

She should have died hereafter.
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
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 open the stage,
And then is heard no more; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

William SHAKESPEARE, Macbeth, V.v.

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