Puslapio vaizdai

By Sinel's death, I know I am Thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor lives,
A profperous gentleman; and, to be king,
Stands not within the profpect of belief,

No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this strange intelligence, or why
Upon this blafted heath you ftop our way,

With fuch 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?
Mac. Into the air; and what seem'd corporal
Melted, as breath, into the wind.-

Would they had staid!

Ban. Were fuch things here, as we do speak about? Or have we eaten f of the infane root,

That takes the Reafon prifoner?

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Mac. Your children shall be kings.

Ban. You fhall be king,

Mac. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not fo?

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Ban. To th' felf-fame tune, and words. Who's here?

e The father of Macbeth. P. i The 3 first fo's, on for of

8 H. reads, but who is bere? for who's

bert F



Enter Roffe and Angus.

Roffe. The king hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth, The news of thy fuccefs; and when he reads

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Thy perfonal venture in the rebels' fight,

His wonders and his praifes do contend,

Which should be thine, or his. Silenc'd with that,
In viewing o'er the rest o' th' felf-fame day,
He finds thee in the ftout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing i afeard of what thyfelf didft make
Strange images of death.
As thick as hail,
Came poft on poft, and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence;
And pour'd them down before him.
Ang. We are fent,

To give thee, from our royal master, thanks;
Only to herald thee into his fight,

Not pay thee.

Roffe. And for an earneft of a greater honour,
He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:
In which addition, hail, most worthy Thane!
For it is thine.

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Ban. What, can the devil speak true!
Mac. The Thane of Cawdor lives;

Why do

you drefs me in his borrow'd robes? Ang. Who was the Thane, lives yet;

But under heavy judgment bears that life,

Which he deferves to lofe. Whether he was combin'd

With those of Norway, or did line the rebel

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With hidden help and 'vantage; or that with both

He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
But treafons capital, confefs'd, and prov'd,

Have overthrown him.


Mac. Glamis and Thane of Cawdor!


The greatest is behind-Thanks for your pains. [To Angus. Do you not hope your children fhall be kings? [To Banquo. When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me,

Promis'd no lefs to them?

Ban. That trufted home,

Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,

Befides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis ftrange;

And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,

The inftruments of darkness tell us truths,


Win us with honeft trifles, to betray us

In deepest confequence.-Coufins, a word, I pray you.

Mac. Two truths are told,

As happy prologues to the fwelling act

[To Roffe and Angus,


Of the imperial theme. -I thank you, gentlemen

m The 1ft f. and C. omit bis.

n So all before P; he and all after omit shofe of.

• P. and H. omit that.

P The fo's and R‚'s octavo, betray's

for betray us.

This fupernatural folliciting

Cannot be ill; cannot be good-If ill,

Why hath it given me earnest of fuccess,
Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor.
If good, why do I yield to that fuggeftion,
Whose horrid image doth 9 unfix my hair,

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And make my feated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears

Are lefs than horrible imaginings.


My thought, whofe murther yet is but fantaftical,
Shakes fo my fingle state of man, that function

Is fmother'd in furmife; and nothing is,

But what is not.

Ban. Look how our partner's rapt.

Mac. If chance will have me king, why, chance may

crown me,

Without my ftir.

Ban. New honours, come upon him,


Like our ftrange garments, cleave not to their mould

But with the aid of use.

Mac. Come what come may,


"Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we ftay upon your leisure.


Mac. Give me your favour. My dull brain was wrought With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains... [To Roffe and Angus.

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* Are registred 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, [To Ban. The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak

Qur free hearts each to other.

Ban. Very gladly.

Mac. 'Till then enough. Come, friends.



2 The Palace.

Flourish. Enter King, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, and


King. Is execution done on Cawdor? a

Are not those in commiffion yet return'd?
Mal. My liege,

They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that faw him die; who did report,

That very frankly he confefs'd his treafons,
Implor'd your Highness' pardon, and set forth
A deep repentance; nothing in his. life

* De me autem, quantas debeo grá- the 4th Scene. tias paternæ benignitati veftræ, scriben

do non fufficio reddere. Sed eas in ebartâ cordis mei fcriptas lego assiduè. Anfelm, Pafchali Pontif, ap. Ead. p. 93.

y In the fo's, R. and C. this is made

z R. first describes the scene.

a After Cawdor P. adds yet, followed by all but C.

b The 1ft f. T. W, and J. Or for

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