Cathnefs, Fleance, Son to Banquo. Siward, General of the English Forces. Young Siward, his Son. Seyton, an Officer attending on Macbeth. Son to Macduff. Doctor. Lady Macbeth. Gentlewomen, attending on Lady Macbeth, Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers and Attendants. The Ghoft of Banquo, and several other Apparitions. SCENE, in the End of the fourth Act, lyes in England; through the rest of the Play, in Scotland; and, chiefly, at Macbeth's Caftle. МАСВЕТН. H. A C T I. SCENE, an open Place. Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches. W 1 WITC H. HEN fhall we three meet again? When the Battle's loft and won. 3 Witch. That will be ere Set of Sun. Witch. Where the place? 2 Witch. Upon the heath. 3 Witch. There I go to meet Macbeth. All. Fair is foul, and foul is fair, Hover through the fog and filthy air. [They rife from the flage, and fly away. SCENE changes to the Palace at Foris. Buter King, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, with attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain. King. As feemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state. Mal. This is the Serjeant, Who like a good and hardy foldier fought Cap. Doubtful long it stood : As two fpent fwimmers that do cling together, Who ne'er fhook hands nor bid farewel to him, King. Oh, valiant Coufin! worthy Gentleman! Dif (1) So from that Spring, whence Comfort feem'd to come, Difcomfort fwell'd.] I have not disturb'd the Text here, as the Senfe does not abfolutely require it; tho' Dr. Thirlby prescribes a very ingenious and easy Correction, Discomfort fwell'd. Mark, King of Scotland, mark; King. Difmay'd not this Our Captains, Macbeth and Banquo ? As fparrows, eagles; or the hare, the lion. As cannons overcharg'd; with double cracks, (2) I cannot tell But I am faint, my gafhes cry for help. King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds : They Imack of honour both. Go, get him furgeons. Enter Roffe and Angus. But who comes here ? Mal. The worthy Thane of Roffe. Len. What hafte looks through his eyes? So fhould he look, that feems to speak things ftrange. Roffe. God fave the King! King. Whence cam'ft thou, worthy Thane ? Roffe. From Fife, great King, Where the Norweyan Banners flout the sky, And fan our people cold. So from that Spring, whence Comfort feem'd to come, Difcomforts well'd. Norway, i. e. ftream'd, flow'd forth: a Word that peculiarly agrees with the Metaphor of a Spring. The Original is Anglo-Saxon peallian, fcaturire; which very well expreffes the Diffusion and Scattering of Water from its Head. (2) I must report they were As Cannons overcharg'd with double cracks.] Cannons overcharg'd with Cracks I have no Idea of: My Pointing, I think, gives the easy and natural Senfe. Macbeth and Banquo were like M 4 Cannons |