I cannot tell But I am faint, my Gafhes cry for help King. So well thy Words become thee, as thy Wounds, They fmack of Honour both: Go, get him Surgeons. Enter Roffe and Angus. Who comes here? Mal. The worthy Thane of Roffe. Len. What hafte looks through his Eyes? So fhould he look, that feems to fpeak things ftrange. King. Whence cam'ft thou, worthy Thane? · Where the Norweyan Banners flout the Sky, Norway himself, with terrible Numbers, Point against Point, rebellious Arm 'gainst Arm, King. Great Happiness, Roffe. That now Swene, the Norway's King, Craves Compofition: Nor would we deign him burial of his Men, 'Till he disburfed, at St. Colmes-hill, Ten thoufand Dollars, to our general use. King. No more that Thane of Cawdor fhall deceive Our bofom Intereft. Go, pronounce his prefent Death, And with his former Title, greet Macbeth. Roffe. I'll fee it done. King. What he hath loft, noble Macbeth hath won. SCENE III. The Heath. Thunder. Enter the three Witches. I Witch. Where haft thou been, Sifter? 2 Witch. Killing Swine. [Exeunt. Q 4 3 Witch. 3 Witch. Sifter, where thou? 1 Witch. A Sailor's Wife had Cheftnuts in her Lap, And mouncht, and mouncht, and mouncht; Give me, quoth I. Aroint thee, Witch, the Rump-fed Ronyon cries. And like a Rat without a Tail, 2 Witch. I'll give thee a Wind, 3 Witch. And I another. and I'll do. 1 Witch. I my felf have all the other, I'll drain him dry as Hay; 2 Witch. Shew me, fhew me. I Witch. Here, I have a Pilot's Thumb, Wrackt as homeward he did come. 3 Witch. A Drum, a Drum. Macbeth doth come. All. The weyward Sifters, 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. [Drum within. Enter Macbeth and Banquo, with Soldiers and other Attendants. Macb. So foul and fair a Day I have not feen. Ban. How far is't call'd to Soris? What are thefe ? So wither'd, and fo wild in their attire, That look not like th' Inhabitants o'th' Earth, And And yet are on't? Live you, or are you ought Upon her skinny Lips. You fhould be Women, And yet your Beards forbid me to interpret Macb. Speak if you can; what are you? I 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 feem to fear Things that do found fo fair? i'th' name of Truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed [To the Witches. That he feems wrapt withal; to me you speak not. And fay, which Grain will grow, and which will not, I Witch. Hail! 2 Witch, Hail! 3 Witch. Hail! í Witch. Leffer than Macbeth, and greater. 2 Witch. Not fo happy, yet much happier. 3 Witch. Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none; So all hail! Macbeth and Banquo. I Witch. Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! Macb. Stay, you imperfe& Speakers, tell me more; Speak, I charge you. [Witches vanifb. Ban. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water ha ; And these are of them: Whither are they vanish'd? Mach. Macb. Into the Air: and what feem'd corporal, Melted, as breath into the Wind. Would they had ftaid. Ban. Were fuch things here, as we do fpeak about? Or have we eaten of the infane Root, That takes the Reafon Prisoner? Macb. Your Children fhall be Kings. Ban. You fhall be King. Mack. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not fo? Roffe. The King hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth, Ang. We are fent, To give thee, from our Royal Mafter, Thanks, Not pay thee. Reffe. And for an earnest of a greater Honour, Ban. What, can the Devil speak true? But under heavy Judgment bears that Life, Whether he was combin'd with thofe of Norway, But But Treafors Capital, confefs'd, and prov'd, Have overthrown him. Macb. Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor! [Afide The greateft 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 Cawder to me, Promis'd no lefs to them? Ban. That trusted home, Might yet enkindle you into the Crown, The Inftruments of darknefs tell us Truths, Win us with honest Trifles, to betray's In deepest Consequence, Coufins, a word, I pray you. Mach. Two Truths are told, [To Roffe and Angus. [Afide. As happy Prologues to the fwelling A& Of the imperial Theam. I thank you, Gentlemen This fupernatural folliciting Cannot be ill; cannot be good Why hath it given me earnest of fuccefs, If ill? Commencing in a Truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. Are less than horrible imaginings: My thought, whofe murther yet is but fantastical, That Function is fmother'd in furmife, And nothing is, but what is not. Ban. Look how our Partner's rapt. Macb. 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, Macb. Come what come may, Time and the Hour runs thro' the rougheft Day. Ban. |