Something Wicked This Way Comes

Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed.
Thrice, and once the hedge-pig whined.
Harpier cries. –’Tis time, ’tis time!
Round about the cauldron go;  
In the poison’d entrails throw.  
Toad, that under cold stone   
Days and nights hast thirty-one
Swelt’red venom, sleeping got,  
Boil thou first i’ th’ charmed pot.  
Double, double, toil and trouble;
     Fire burn and cauldron bubble.  
Fillet of a fenny snake,  
In the cauldron boil and bake;  
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,  
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,  
Adder’s fork, and blindworm’s sting,  
Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing–  
For a charm of pow’rful trouble
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.  

     Double, double, toil and trouble, 
     Fire burn and cauldron bubble. 

Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witch’s mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravined salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digged i’ th’ dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Slivered in the moon’s eclipse,
Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips,
Finger of birh-strangled babe
Ditch-delivered by a drab
Make the gruel thick and slab.
And thereto a tiger’s chaudron.
For th’ ingredience of our cauldron.
Double, double, toil and trouble,
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Cool it with a baboon’s blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.
Act IV, Scene i
William Shakespeare

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