2 Witch. Demand,

3 Witch. We'll answer.

1 Witch. Say, if th' hadft rather hear it from our mouths, Or from our mafters ?

Macb. Call 'em : let me fee 'em.

1 Witch. Pour in fow's blood, that hath eaten Her nine farrow: grease that's sweaten

From the murd❜rer's gibbet, throw

Into the flame.

All. Come high or low:

Thy felf and office deftly fhow.

Apparition of an armed Head rifes.

Macb. Tell me, thou unknown power1 Witch. He knows thy thought:

Hear his fpeech, but fay thou nought.

[Thunders.

App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff!Beware the Tbane of Fife-difmifs me-enough-[Defcends. Macb. What-e'er thou art, for thy good caution thanks. Thou'ft harp'd my fear aright. But one word more1 Witch. He will not be commanded; here's another More potent than the first. [Thunder,

Apparition of a bloody Child rifes.

App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!
Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee.

App. Be bloody, bold, and refolute; laugh to fcorn The pow'r of man; for none of woman born

Shall harm Macbeth.

[Defcends. Mach. Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee? But yet I'll make affurance double fure,

And take a bond of fate; thou fshalt not live,

That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lies;

And fleep in fpight of thunder.

[Thunder

Apparition of a Child crowned, with a tree in his band, rifes.

What is this,

That rifes like the iffue of a King,

And wears upon his baby-brow the round

And top of fovereignty ?

All. Liften, but speak not.

App. Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care, Who chafes, who frets, or where confpirers are:

Macbeth

Macbeth fhall never vanquish'd be, untill
Great Birnam wood to Dunfinane's high hill
Shall come against him.

Macb. That will never be:

Who can imprefs the foreft, bid the tree

[Defcends,

Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet boadments! good!
Rebellion's head, rife never, 'till the wood

Of Birnam rife; and our high-plac'd Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time and mortal cuftom. Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing; Tell me, (if your art
Can tell fo much) fhall Banquo's iffue ever

Reign in this kingdom ?

All. Seek to know no more.

[The cauldron finks into the ground.

Macb. I will be fatisfy'd. Deny me this,

And an eternal curfe fall on you! let me know.

Why finks that cauldron ? and what noife is this? [Hautboys.

1 Witch. Shew!

2 Witch. Shew!

3 Witch. Shew!

All. Shew his eyes, and grieve his heart, Come like fhadows, fo depart.

[Eight Kings appear and pass over in order, the laft bolding a glass in bis band: with Banquo following them, Mach. Thou art too like the fpirit of Banquo; down! Thy crown does fear mine eye-balls.- -And thy hair (Thou other gold-bound brow) is like the firftA third is like the former, filthy hags! Why do you fhew me this?- -A fourth? Start eye! What, will the line stretch out to th' crack of doom? Another yet?- A feventh! I'll fee no moreAnd yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass, Which fhews me many more; and some I fee That twofold balls and treble fcepters carry. Horrible fight! nay, now I fee 'tis true, For the blood-bolter'd Banquo fmiles upon me, And points at them for his: What, is this fo? 1 Witch. Ay, Sir? all this is fo. But why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?

Come,

Come, fifters, chear we up his fprights,
And fhew the best of our delights;
I'll charm the air to give a found,
While you perform your antique round:
That this great King may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.

Macb. Infected be the air whereon they ride, And damn'd all thofe that truft them! I did hear The galloping of horfe. Who was❜t came by ?

[hour

Len. 'Tis two or three, my Lord, that bring you word, Macduff is fled to England.

Macb. Fled to England?

Len. Ay, my good Lord.

Macb. Time, thou anticipat'ft my dread exploits :

The flighty purpose never is o'er-took

Unless the deed go with it. From this moment

The very firftlings of my heart shall be

The firftlings of my hand. And even now

To crown my thoughts with acts, be't thought and done: The caftle of Macduff I will furprise,

Seize upon Fife, give to th' edge o' th' fword

His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate fouls

That trace him in his line. No boafting like a fool,
This deed I'll do before the purpose cool.
But no more fights. Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are.

[Exeunt.
SCENE III. Macduff's Caftle at Fife.
Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Roffe.
L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the land?
Roffe. You must have patience, Madam.
VOL., VII,
L

L. Macd.

L. Macd. He had none;

His flight was madnefs; when our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors.

Roffe. You know not,

Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.

L. Macd. Wifdom? to leave his wife, to leave his babes, His manfion, and his titles, in a place

From whence himself does fly? he loves us not,
He wants the nat'ral touch; for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her neft, against the owl:
All is the fear, and nothing is the love;
As little is the wifdom where the flight
So runs against all reason.

Roffe. Dearest coufin,

I pray you school your felf; but for your husband,
He's noble, wife, judicious, and beft knows

The fits o'th' time. I dare not fpeak much further,
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,
And do not know't ourselves: when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear,
But float upon a wild and violent fea

Each way, and move. I take my leave of you;
"T shall not be long but I'll be here again;
Things at the worft will cease, or elfe climb upward
To what they were before: My pretty coufin,
Bleffing upon you!

L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
Roffe. I am fo much a fool, fhould I ftay longer
It would be my difgrace, and your difcomfort.

I take my leave at once.

[Exit Roffe.

L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead,
And what will you do now? how will you live?
Son. As birds do, mother.

L. Macd. What, on worms and flies?

Son. On what, I get, and fo do they.

L.Macd. Poor bird! thou'dft never fear the net, nor lime,

The pit-fall, nor the gin.

[for,

Son. Why fhould I, mother? poor birds they are not fet My father is not dead, for all your faying.

Macd

L. Macd. Yes, he is dead? how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband?

L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. Son. Then you'll buy 'em to fell again.

L. Macd. Thou speak'ft with all thy wit, and yet With wit enough for thee.

Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?

L. Macd. Ay that he was.

Son. What is a traitor ?

L. Macd. Why, one that fwears and lies.

Son. And be all traitors that do fo?

[i'faith

L. Macd. Every one that does fo is a traitor, and must be hang'd.

Son. And muft they all be hang'd that swear and lie? L. Macd. Every one.

Son. Who must hang them?

L. Macd. Why, honeft men.

Son. Then the liars and fwearers are fools; for there are liars and fwearers enough to beat the honeft men, and hang up them.

L. Macd. God help thee, poor monkey! but how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good fign that I fhould quickly have a new father.

L. Macd. Poor pratler, how thou talk'ft!

Enter a Mejenger.

Mel. Blefs you, fair dame! am not to you known, Though in your ftate of honour I am perfect;

I doubt fome danger does approach you nearly.

If will take a homely man's advice,

you

Be not found here; hence with your little ones.
To fright you thus methinks I am too favage;
To do lefs, to you were fell cruelty,

Which is too nigh your perfon. Heav'n preferve you!
I dare abide no longer.

[Exit Meffenger.

L. Macd. Whither fhould I fly?
I've done no harm. But I remember now
I'm in this earthly world, where to do harm