SCENE II.-A Camp near Fores. Alarum within. Enter KING DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Soldier.

Dun. What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state.

Mal.

This is the sergeant,

Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought
'Gainst my captivity :-Hail, brave friend!
Say to the King the knowledge of the broil,
As thou didst leave it.

Sold.

Doubtful it stood;

As two spent swimmers, that do cling together,
And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald
(Worthy to be a rebel; for to that
The multiplying villanies of nature
Do swarm upon him) from the western isles
Of kernes and gallowglasses is supplied;
And Fortune, on his damnéd quarrel smiling,
Shewed like a rebel's whore. But all 's too weak;
For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name),
Disdaining fortune, with his brandished steel,
Which smoked with bloody execution,
Like valour's minion, carved out his passage,
Till he faced the slave;

Mal.

The worthy thane of Rosse.

Len. What haste looks through his eyes! So
should he look

That seems to speak things strange.
Rosse. God save the King!

Dun. Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane?
Rosse. From Fife, great king,
Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky,
And fan our people cold.

Norway himself, with terrible numbers,
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor

The thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict;
Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapped in proof,
Confronted him with self-comparisons,
Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,
The victory fell on us.-

Dun. Great happiness!
Rosse. That now

Sweno, the Norways' king craves composition;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
Till he disburséd, at Saint Colmés' inch,
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive

Our bosom interest.-Go, pronounce his present death,

And with his former title greet Macbeth.
Rosse. I'll see it done.

Dun. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath [Exeunt.

won.

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 chesnuts in her

lap,

And mounched, and mounched, and mounched:"Give me," quoth I:

"Aroint thee, witch!" the rump-fed ronyon cries. Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:

But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
And, like a rat without a tail,

I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.

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

1st Witch. Thou art kind.

3rd Witch. And I another.

Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear,
Your favours nor your hate.

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. Thou shalt get 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!

By Sinel's death, I know I am thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
A prosperous 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 blasted 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 vanished?
Macb. Into the air; and what seemed corporal,
melted

As breath into the wind. 'Would they had stayed. Ban. Were such things here as we do speak about?

Or have we eaten of the insane root,
That takes the reason prisoner?
Macb. Your children shall be kings.
Ban. You shall be king.

Macb. And thane of Cawdor too; went it not so? Ban. To the self-same tune, and words. Who's here?

Enter Rosse and ANGUS.

Rosse. The King hath happily received, Macbeth,

The news of thy success: and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine or his: silenced with that,
In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as hail,
Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
And poured them down before him.

We are sent

Ang.

To give thee, from our royal master, thanks;
Only to herald thee into his sight,
Not pay
thee.

Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honour, He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:

In deepest consequence.—

Cousins, a word, I pray you.
Macb. Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme.-I thank you, gentlemen.-
This supernatural soliciting

Cannot be ill cannot be good. If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings:
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man, that function
Is smothered 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, Without my stir.

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; Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. Macb. Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought

With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains

Are registered where every day I turn

The leaf to read them. Let us toward the King.
Think upon what hath chanced; and at more time,
The interim having weighed it, let us speak
Our free hearts each to other.
Very gladly.

Ban.

Macb. Till then enough.-Come, friends. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Fores. A Room in the Palace.

Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENOX, and Attendants.

Dun. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet returned?

Mal.

My liege,

They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die: who did report
That very frankly he confessed his treasons;
Implored your highness' pardon; and set forth
A deep repentance. Nothing in his life
Became him like the leaving it: he died
As one that had been studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
As 't were a careless trifle.

Dun.

There's no art

To find the mind's construction in the face:
He was a gentleman on whom I built
An absolute trust.-O worthiest cousin!

Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, ROSSE, and ANGUS. The sin of my ingratitude even now Was heavy on me: Thou art so far before, That swiftest wing of recompense is slow To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved; That the proportion both of thanks and payment Might have been mine! only I have left to say, More is thy due than more than all can pay. Macb. The service and the loyalty I owe, In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part Is to receive our duties and our duties Are, to your throne and state, children and

Dun.

My plenteous joys,

Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
In drops of sorrow.-Sons, kinsmen, thanes,
And you whose places are the nearest, know,
We will establish our estate upon

Our eldest, Malcolm; whom we name hereafter,
The Prince of Cumberland: which honour must
Not, unaccompanied, invest him only,
But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
On all deservers. From hence to Inverness,
And bind us further to you.

Macb. The rest is labour which is not used for you:

I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful
The hearing of my wife with your approach;
So, humbly take my leave.

Dun.
My worthy Cawdor!
Macb. The Prince of Cumberland!
a step
On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap,

That is

[Aside.

For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires! Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand! yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.

[Exit.

Dun. True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant, And in his commendations I am fed;

It is a banquet to me. Let us after him, Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome : It is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Inverness. A Room in MACBETH'S Castle.

Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a letter.

"

"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 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 promised.
Yet do I fear thy

nature;

It is too full o' the milk of human kindness,
To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great;

Art not without ambition; but without

The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly,

That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
And yet wouldst 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 valour of my tongue
All that impedes thee from the golden round
Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem
To have thee crowned withal.-What is your
tidings?

Enter an Attendant.

Atten. The King comes here to-night.
Lady M.
Thou'rt mad to say

it:

Is not thy master with him? who, wer't so,
Would have informed, for preparation,

Atten. So please you, it is true: our thane is coming:

One of my fellows had the speed of him ;
Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
Than would make up his message.
Give him tending;

Lady M.

He brings great news. The raven himself is hoarse
[Exit Attendant.
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here;
And fill me, from the crown to the toe, topfull
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 to my woman's breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murdering mi-
nisters,