“Stars, hide your fires! Let not light see my black and deep desires.”

A place where we can find our “deep desires” resides within this tavern, luring us through its bloody and beaten doors to drink from its forbidden poison. Outside a Macabre sign swings and creeks wildly in the wind as the rain pounds the pavement with full force.

Black shadows cower around low, circular tables, like old hags drawn to the warmth of a cauldron. The faint chant “Double double toil and trouble / Fire burn and cauldron bubble,” can be heard beneath the tinny sound of music.

The poison is mixed, its intoxicating smell luring in unsuspecting peasants. “Round and round the cauldron go;/In the poison’d entrails throw.”

For where is King Duncan, Thane of Cawdor? Macbeth will not have his ultimate prize tonight.

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