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1 Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wreckt as homeward he did come.
[Drum within 3 Witch. A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come!
All. The weyward fifters, hand in hand,
nine ! Peace! the Charm's wound up.
Mac. S Ban. How far is't call'd to Foris ?
S CE N E IV.
Macb. Speak, if you can ; what are you u? 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
hereafter. 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, or That indeed [To the Witches. Which outwardly ye shew? my noble Partner You greet with present grace, and great predi&tion
Of noble Having, and of royal Hope,
1 Witch. Hail!
none; So, all hail, Macbeth and Banquo ?
1 Witch. Banquo and Macbeth, all-hail ! Macb. Stay, you imperfe&t Speakers, tell me more; By 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 prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence You owe this strange intelligence ? or why Upon this blafted heath you stop our way, With such prophetic Greeting?—speak, I charge you.
[Witches vanish. Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has ; And these are of them: whither are they vanish'd ?
Macb. Into the air: and what seem'd corporal Melted, as breath, into the wind. 'Would they had staid !
Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak about?
Macb. Your children shall be Kings.
Enter Rosse and Angus.
of thy ;
Ang. We are sent,
Rose And for an earnest of a greater honour;
Ban. What, can the Devil speak true ?
Macb. The Thane of Cawdor lives; Why do
dress me in his borrow'd robes ?. Ang. Who was the Thane, lives yet; But under heavy judgment bears that life, Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was Combin'd with Norway, or did line the Rebel With hidden help and 'vantage; or that with both He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not; But treasons capital, confess’d, and prov'd, Have overthrown him. Macb. Glamis and Thane of Cawdor ! [Aside.
The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains.
[To Angus. Do you not hope, your children shall be Kings?
[To Banquo. When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me, Promis'd no less to them?
Ban. That, trusted home, Might yet enkindle you unto the Crown, Belides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange: And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of Darkness tell us truths ; Win us with honeft trifles, to betray us In deepest consequence. Cousins, a word, I pray you. (To Rosse and Angus. Macb. Two truths are told,
[Aside. As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemenThis supernatural Soliciting Cannot be ill; cannot be good.-If ill, Why hath it giv'n me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth? I'm Thane of Cawdor. If good, why do I yield to that suggestion, Whose horrid image doth upfix my hair, And make my feated heart knock at my ribs Against the use of nature ; present feats Are less than horrible imaginings. My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical Shakes fo my single state of man, that Function Is fmother'd'in surmise ; 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,
(Aside. Without my ftir.
Ban. New Honours, come upon him, Like our strange garments cleave not to their mould, But with the aid of use. Macb. Come what come may,
King. Or not those in commission yet return'd?
Time and the hour runs thro' the roughest day.
Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. Macb. 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.
S CE N E VI.
Changes to the Palace.
Mal. My liege,
King. There's no art,