=2 Witch. I'll give thee a wind.

I Witch. Thou art kind.

3 Witch. And I another.

Witch. I my felf have all the other,
And the very points they blow,
All the quarters that they know,
' th' fhip-man's card-

I will drain him dry as hay;
Sleep fhall neither night nor day
Hang upon his pent-houfe lid;
He fhall live a man forbid;
Weary fev'nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:
Though his bark cannot be loft,
Yet it fhall be tempeft-toft.
Look what I have.

2 Witch. Shew me, fhew me.

I Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wreck'd as homeward he did come. 3 Witch. A drum, a drum!

Macbeth doth come!

All. The 'weird` fifters, hand in hand,

Posters of the sea and land,

Thus do go about, about,

Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again to make up nine.

Peace, the charm's wound up.

S CE NE

[Drum within.

IV.

Enter Macbeth and Banquo, with Soldiers and other
Attendants.

Mach. So foul and fair a day I have not feen.
Ban. How far is't call'd to Foris-What are thefe,
So wither'd, and fo wild in their attire?
That look not like inhabitants of earth,

And yet are on't? Live you, or are you aught

9 weyward... old edit. Theob, emend.

That

That man may question? you feem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying

Upon her skinny lips-You fhould be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are fo.

Mach. Speak if you can; what are you?

1 Witch. All-hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! 2 Witch. All-hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! 3 Witch. All-hail, Macbeth! that fhalt be King hereafter. Ban. Good Sir, why do you ftart, and seem to fear Things that do found fo fair? I' th' name of truth, Are ye fantaftical, or that indeed [To the Witches. Which outwardly ye fhew? my noble partner You greet with prefent grace, and great prediction Of noble having, and of royal hope,

That he feems rapt withal; to me you speak not.
If you can look into the feeds of time,

And fay which grain will grow and which will not,
Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
Your favours nor your hate.

1 Witch. Hail! 2 Witch. Hail! 3 Witch. Hail!

I Witch. Leffer than Macbeth, and greater. 2 Witch. Not fo happy, yet much happier.

3 Witch. Thou fhalt get Kings, though thou be none; All hail, Macbeth and Banquo!

1 Witch. Banquo and Macbeth, all-hail!

Mach Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more;
By a Sinel's death I know I'm Thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor lives,
A profp'rous gentleman; and to be King
Stands not within the profpect of belief,

No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this ftrange intelligence? or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way

With

With fuch prophetick greeting?-fpeak, I charge you.

[Witches vanish. Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them: whither are they vanifh'd? Macb. Into the air: and what seem'd corporal,

Melted, as breath into the wind

Would they had staid!

Ban. Were fuch things here, as we do fpeak about?
Or have we eaten of the infane root
That takes the reafon prisoner?

Mach. Your children fhall be Kings.
Ban. You fhall be King.

Mach. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not fo?
Ban. To th' felf-fame tune, and words; 'but who is
here?

S CE E N E V.

Enter Roffe and Angus.

Roffe. The King hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,
The news of thy fuccefs; and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels fight,
His wonders and his praifes do contend,
Which should be thine or his. Silenc'd with that,
In viewing o'er the reft o' th' felf-fame day,
He finds thee in the ftout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afraid of, what thy felf didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as hail,
Came poft on poft, and every one did bear
Thy praifes in his kingdom's great defence,
And pour'd them down before him.
Ang. We are fent,

To give thee, from our royal mafter, thanks,
Only to herald thee into his fight,

Not pay thee.

Roffe. And for an earnest of a greater honour,

He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:
In which addition, hail, most worthy Thane!

For it is thine.

I who's

Ban.

Ban. What, can the devil speak true?
Macb. The Thane of Cawdor lives;
Why do you drefs me in his borrow'd robes?
Ang. Who was the Thane, lives yet,
But under heavy judgment bears that life,
Which he deferves to lofe. Whether he was
Combin'd with Norway, or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage; or with both
He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not :
But treafons capital, confefs'd, and prov❜d,
Have overthrown him.

Macb. Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor!

[Afide.

The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains, [To Angus. Do you not hope your children fhall be Kings,

[To Banquo. When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me, Promis'd no lefs to them?

Ban. That trufted home,

Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,

Befides the Thane of Cawdor.

But 'tis ftrange:
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The inftruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honeft trifles, to betray us

In deepest confequence.

Coufins, a word I pray you.

Mach. Two truths are told,

[To Roffe and Angus.

[Afide.

As happy prologues to the fwelling act

Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen

This fupernatural folliciting

Cannot be ill; cannot be good

If ill,

Why hath it giv'n me earneft of fuccefs,
Commencing in a truth? I'm Thane of Cawdor.
If good, why do I yield to that fuggeftion,
Whofe horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my feated heart knock at my ribs
Against the use of nature? prefent 'feats
Are less than horrible imaginings.

2 fears ... old edit. Warb, emend.

2

My

My Thought, whofe 'murther's yet but fantafy,
Shakes fo my fingle state of man, that Function
Is fmother'd in furmife; and nothing is,

But what is not.

Ban. Look how our partner's rapt!

Mach. If chance will have me King, why chance may

crown me

Without my ftir.

Ban. New honours come upon him

[Afide.

Like our ftrange garments cleave not to their mould,
But with the aid of ufe.

Mach. Come what come may,

Time and the hour runs thro' the roughest day.

[Afide.

Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we ftay upon your leifure. Mach. Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought With things forgot. Kind gentlemen, your pains Are registred where every day I turn

.

The leaf to read them-let us tow❜rd the King;
Think upon what hath chanc'd, and at more time,

[To Banquo. (The interim having weigh'd it,) let us fpeak Our free hearts each to other.

Ban. Very gladly.

Macb. 'Till then enough: come, friends;

SCENE VI.

The Palace.

[Exeunt:

Flourish. Enter King, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, and Attendants.

King.TS execution done on Cawdor yet?

Are not those in commiffion yet return'd?

Mal. My Liege,

They are not yet come back. But I have spoke

3 murther yet is but fantastical,

With