I' the shipman's card". I will drain him dry as hay: 2 Witch. Show me, show me. 1 Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wreck'd, as homeward he did come. 3 Witch. A drum, a drum; Macbeth doth come. [Drum within. All. The weird sisters', 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: the charm's wound up. Peace! Enter MACBETH and BANQUO. Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen. these, So wither'd, and so wild in their attire; What are That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, me, By each at once her choppy finger laying 9 Accursed. 1 Prophetick sisters. And yet your beards forbid me to interpret Macb. Speak, if you can; What are you? 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 sound so fair? truth, I'the name of Are ye fantastical', or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner 4 That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not: If you can look into the seeds of time, grow, And say, which grain will and which will not; 1 Witch. Hail! 2 Witch, Hail! 3 Witch. Hail! 1 Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. 2 Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier. 3 Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none: So, all hail, Macbeth, and Banquo! 1 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, 2 Supernatural, spiritual. 4 Abstracted. 3 Estate. Stands not within the prospect of belief, Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetick greeting? - Speak, I charge [Witches vanish. you. 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? Or have we eaten of the insane root, That takes the reason prisoner? Macb. Your children shall be kings. You shall be king. Macb. And thane of Cawdor too; went it not so? Ban. To the self-same tune, and words. here? Enter RossE and ANGUS. Who's Rosse. The king hath happily receiv'd, 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: Silenc'd 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 tales, Came post with post; and every one did bear Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence, And pour'd them down before him. Ang. We are sent, To give thee, from our royal master, thanks; Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honour, He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor: In which addition, hail, most worthy thane ! For it is thine. Ban. What, can the devil speak true? Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives; Why do you dress me In 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: The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains. Do you not hope your children shall be kings, 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, Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange : Macb. Two truths are told, As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentle men. - This supernatural soliciting" If ill, • Encitement. Why hath it given me earnest of success, My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, But what is not. Ban. Look, how our partner's rapt. Macb. If chance will have me king, why, chance But with the aid of use. Mach. Come what come way; Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. Macb. Give me your favour 9: - my dull brain was wrought With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains Are register'd where every day I turn The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.Think upon what hath chanc'd: and, at more time, The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other. Ban. Very gladly. Macb. Till then, enough. Come friends. 7 i. e. Which cleave not. 8 Time and opportunity. [Exeunt. 9 Pardon. |