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SCENE, in the end of the fourth act, lies in England; through the

reft of the play, in Scotland, and chiefly at Macbeth's cafile.


An open place.
Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches.


I Witch.


HEN shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain ?

2 Witch. When the hurly-burly's done, When the battle's loft and won.

3 Witch. That will be ere set of fun.
I Witch. Where the place ?
2 Witch. Upon the heath.

3 Witch. There I go to meet Macbeth.
I Wsch. I come, I come, Grimalkin.-

2 Witch,

† This is supposed to be a true history; taken froni Hector Boetius, and other Scottish chroniclers.

2 Witch. Padocke calls-anon !

All. Fair is foul, and foul is fair ; Hover through the fog and filthy air.

[They rise from the stage, and Ay away.

SCENE II. Changes to the palace at Forres. Enter King, Malcolm, Donald Bane, Lenox, with Atten

dants, meeting a bleeding Captain.
King. What bloody man is that? he can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
The newest state.

Mal. This is the Serjeant,
Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought
'Gainst my captivity. Hail, hail, brave friend !
Say to the King the knowledge of the broil
As thou didit leave it.

Capt. Doubtful long it stood ;
As two spent twimmers that do cling together,
And choke their art: the merciless Macdonel
(Worthy to be a rebel ; for to that
The multiplying villanies of nature
Do swarm upon him) from the western isles
Of kernes and gallow-glaffes was supply'd ;
And Fortune on his damned quarrel Imiling,
Shew'd like a rebel's whore. But all too weak:
For brave Macbeth, (well he deserves that name),
Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish'd iteel,
Which smok'd with bloody execution,
Like Valour's minion carved out his passage,
Till he had fac'd the Nave;
Who ne'er shook hands, nor bid farewel to him,
Till he unseam'd him from the nape to th' chops,
And fix'd his head upon our battlements.

King. Oh, valiant coufin! worthy Gentleman !

Capt. As whence the fun 'gins his reflection,
Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break;
So from that spring whence comfort feem'd to come,
Discomfit well?d. Mark, King of Scotland, mark ;
No fooper justice had with valour arm'd,
Compell’d these skipping kernes to trust their heels ;
But the Norweyan Lord, surveying 'vantage,


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With furbish'd arms, and new supplies of men,
Began a fresh afsault.

King. Dismay'd not this
Our Captains, Macbeth and Banquo ?

Capt. Yes,
As fparrows, eagles; or the bare, the lion.
If I say footh, I must report, they were
As cannons overcharg'd with double * cracks,
So they redoubled strokes upon the foe :
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
Or memorize + another Golgotha,
I cannot tell-
But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.

King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds:
They smack of honour both. Go, get him surgeons.

Enter Rofe and Angus. But who comes here?

Mal. The worthy Thane of Rosse.

Len. What haste looks through his eyes?
So should he look that seems to speak I things strange.

Rose. God save the King !
King: Whence cam'ít thou, worthy Thane?

Rolle. From Fife, great King,
Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky,
And fan our people cold.
Norway, himself with numbers terrible,
Aflifted by that most disloyal traitor
The Thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal condict ;
'Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapt in proof,
Confronted him with self-comparisons II,
Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish fpirit. To conclude,
The victory fell on us.

King. Great happiness!

Roje. Now Sweno, Norway's King, craves compofiNor would we deign him burial of his men,

[tion :

Till * double is here used for great, and not for two. + memorize, for make. \ i.e. that seems as if he would speak. 11 i. e. gave him as good as he bronight, thew'd he was his equal.

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Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmeskil isle *
Ten thousand dollars, to our gen’ral + use.
King. No more that Thane

of Cawdor fhall deceive Our bofom-int’reit I. Go, pronounce his death ; And with his former title greet Macbeth. ! Rolle. I'll see it done. King. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won..


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SCENE III. Changes to the heath..

Thunder. Enter the three Witches..
I Witch. Where haft thou been; fifter?:
2 Witch. Killing swine.
3 Witch. Sifter, where thou?

1 Witch. A sailor's wife had chesnuts in her láp, And mouncht, and mouncht, and mouncht. Give meg,

quoth I.
Aroint thee, witch !-the rump-fed ronyon cries.
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o'th? Tyger..
But in a fieve I'll thither fail,
And like a rat' without a tail,
I'll do-I'll do and I'll do..

2 Witch. I'll give thee a wind.
1 Witch. Thou art kind..
3. Witch. And I another..

i Witch. I'myself have all the other;,
And the very points they blow ;
All the quarters that they know,
l'th' fhip-man's card.
I will drain him dry as hay,
Sleep fall neither night nor day
Hang upon his pent-house lidi
He shall live a man forbid;
Weary fev'n-nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindie, peak and pine.
Though his bark cannot be lost,,
Yet it shall be tempeft-toft.
Look what I have.

* One of the western isles of Scotland, otherwise called funi..
+ general, for public.

bofum-interefl, for trufia.

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2 Witch. Shew me, shew me.'

I Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wreck'd as homeward he did come. [Drum within.

3 Witch. A drum, a drum!
Macbeth doth come!

. The weyward fisters, 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.

Enter Macbeth and Banquo, with Soldiers and other At-

Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Ban. How far is't call'd to Forres ? What are these,
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire,
That look not like th' inhabitants o'th' earth,
And yet are on't ? Live you, or are you aught
That man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips.-

You thould be women ;
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.

Macb. 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 shalt be King here.

after. Ban. Good Sir, why do you start, and seem to fear Things that do found so fair? I'th' name of truth, Are ye fantastical t, or that indeed [To the witches, Which outwardly ye shew? My noble partner You greet with present grace, and great prediction Of noble having, and of royal hope, That he seems rapt;withal; to me you speak not. If you can look into the seeds of time,


furtaftical, for supernatural, Spirituala.

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