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SCENE III.—A Heath. Thunder.
Enter the three Witches. 1st Witch. Where hast thou been, sister ? 2nd Witch. Killing swine. 3rd Witch. Sister, where thou ?
1st Witch. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
2nd Witch. I'll give thee a wind.
1st Witch. I myself have all the other:
2nd Witch. Show me, show me.
1st Witch. Here I have a pilot's thum, Wreck'd as homeward he did come.
[Drum within 3rd Witch. A drum, a drum : Macbeth doth come.
All. The weird sisters, hand in hand,
Enter MACBETH and BANQUO.
Ban. How far is't call'd to Fores?_What are these,
By each at once her choppy finger laying
Macb. Speak, if you can ;-What are you?
Ban. Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
1st Witch. Hail ! 2nd Witch. Hail ! 3rd Witch. Hail ! 1st Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. 2nd Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier. * 3rd Witch. Thy children shall be kings, though thou be none: So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
1st Witch. Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail !
Macb. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more :
[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
Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak about ?
You shall be king.
Enter Rossa and Angus.
We are sent,
Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honor,
Ban. What, can the devil speak true ?
Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives; Why do you dress me In borrowed robes ? - Ang.
Who was the thane, lives yet;
Glamis, and thane of Cawdor: .
That, trusted home
Two truths are told,
Cannot be ill; cannot ve good :-If ill,
Look, how our partner's rapt. .
New honors come upon him
Come what come may;
Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
Macb. Give me your favor :-my dull brain was wrought
[Ewcuni. Macbeth goes to Fores to pay his duty to King Duncan, who confirms him in his title of Thane of Cawdor, and as a farther proof of the royal favor, the King announces his intention of visiting Macbeth at his Castle in Inverness. Macbeth leaves the King to be the "harbinger" of the monarch's proposed visit.
The Scene changes to the Castle of Macbeth, and Lady Macbeth enters, reading a Letter she has just received from her husband.
Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter. . Lady M. They met me in the day of success; and I have learned by the perfectest report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves-air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who all-hailed me, Thane of Cawdor; by which title, before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of time, with, Hail, king that shalt be! This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of my greatness ; that thou mightest not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell. Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promis'd :-Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness, To catch the nearest way. Thou would'st be great; Art not without ambition ; but without The illness should attend it. What thou would'st highly, That would'st thou holily; would'st not play false, And yet would'st wrongly win : thou’dst have, great Glamis,. That which cries, Thus thou must do, if thou have it ; And that which rather thou dost fear to do, Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; And chastise with the valor of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal. What is your tidings ?
Enter an Attendant. Atten. The king comes here to-night. Lady M.
Thou’rt mad to say it:
Atten. So please you, it is true; our thane is coming :
Give him tending.
[Exit Attendant That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here; And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse; That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect, and it! Come, you murd'ring ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, Hold, hold ! Great Glamis ! worthy Čawdor!