Enter Roffe and Angus.

But who comes here ?

Mal. The worthy Thane of Roffe.

Len. What hafte looks through his eyes? fo fhould he look, That seems 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.

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

The Thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict;
'Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapt in proof,
Confronted him with felf-comparisons,
Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish fpirit. To conclude,

The victory fell on us.

King. Great happiness!

Roffe. Now Sweno, Norway's King, craves compofition:

Nor would we deign him burial of his men,

'Till he difburfed, at Saint Colmkil-ifle,

Ten thousand dollars, to our gen'ral use.

King. No more that Thane of Cawdor fhall deceive

Our bofom int'reft. Go, pronounce his death,

And with his former title greet Macbeth.

Roffe. I'll fee it done.

King. What he hath loft, noble Macbeth hath won. [Exe. SCENE III. The Heath.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1 Witch. Where haft thou been, fifter?

2 Witch. Killing swine.

3 Witch. Sifter, where thou?

I Witch. A failor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,

And mouncht, and mouncht, and mouncht. Give me,
Aroint thee, witch, the rump-fed ronyon cries.. [quoth I.
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, mafter o'th' Tiger:
But in a fieve I'll thither fail,

And like a rat without a tail,

* Colmkil is one of the western Iles of Scotland, otherwife call'd Fona.

3

Witch. And I another.

1 Witch. I my felf have all the other,
And the very points they blow,
All the quarters that they know,
I'th' fhip-man's card

I will drain him dry as hay;
Sleep fhall neither night nor day
Hang upon his pent-house lid;
He fhall live a man forbid;
Weary fev'nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:
Though his bark cannot be loft,
Yet it fhall be tempeft-toft.
Look what I have.

2 Witch. Shew me, fhew me.

I Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wreck'd as homeward he did come. 3 Witch. A drum, a drum!

Macbeth doth come!

All. The weird fifters, hand in hand, Pofters of the fea and land,

Thus do go about, about,

Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,

And thrice again to make up nine.

Peace, the charm's wound up.

SCENE IV.

[Drum wirbin

Enter Macbeth and Banquo, with Soldiers and other Attendants.
Mach. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Ban. How far is't call'd to Foris What are thefe,

So wither'd, and fo wild in their attire ?

That look not like inhabitants of earth,

And yet are on't? Live you, or are you aught

That man may queftion? you feem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying

Upon her skinny lips-You fhould be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are fo.

Mack,

Mach. 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 fhalt be King hereafter, Ban. Good Sir, why do you ftart, and feem to fear Things that do found fo fair? I'th' name of truth, Are ye fantaftical, or that indeed

[To the Witches.
Which outwardly ye fhew? my noble partner
You greet with prefent grace, and great prediction
Of noble having, and of royal hope,

That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not.
If you can look into the feeds of time,

And fay which grain will grow and which will not,
Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
Your favours nor your hate.

1 Witch. Hail!

2 Witch. Hail! Witch. Hail!

I Witch. Leffer than Macbeth, and greater. 2 Witch. Not fo happy, yet much happier.

3 Witch. Thou fhalt get Kings, though thou be none; All-hail, Macbeth and Banquo!

1 Witch. Banquo and Macbeth, all-hail!

Mach. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more;
By Sinel's death I know I'm Thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor lives,
A profp'rous gentleman; and to be King
Stands not within the prospect of belief,

No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this ftrange intelligence? or why

Upon this blafted heath you ftop our way

With fuch prophetick greeting ?-speak, I charge you.

[Witches vanifba 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 feem'd corporal, Melted, as breath into the wind

Would they had staid!

The father of Macbeth

Ban

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

That takes the reason prisoner?

Mach. Your children fhall be Kings.
Ban. You fhall be King.

Mach. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not fo?
Ban. To th' felf-fame tune, and words; but who is here?
SCENE V. Enter Roffe and Angus.
Roffe. The King hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,
The news of thy fuccefs; and when he reads
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 reft o'th' felf-fame day,
He finds thee in the ftout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afraid of, what thy felf 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 mafter, 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.

Ban. What, can the devil speak true?
Mach. The Thane of Cardor 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 Norway, or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage; or with both
He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not:
But treafons capital, confefs'd, and prov'd,
Have overthrown him.

Mach

Macb. Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor!

[Afide.

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 less 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

As happy prologues to the fwelling act

[To Roffe and Angus.

[Afide:

Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen

This fupernatural folliciting

Cannot be ill; cannot be good - If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of fuccefs,
Commencing in a truth? I'm Thane of Cawdor,
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion,
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my feated heart knock at my ribs
Against the use of nature? prefent feats
Are less than horrible imaginings.

My Thought, whofe murther's yet but fantasy,
Shakes fo my fingle ftate of man, that Function
Is fmother'd in furmife; 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 ftir.

Ban. New honours come upon him

Like our ftrange garments cleave not to their mould,

But with the aid of use.

Macb. Come what come may,

Time and the hour runs thro' the roughest day.

[Afide.

Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
VOL. VIII.
H

[Afide.

Mach