Discomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark.
No sooner Justice had, with Valour arm'd,
Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heels;
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,

With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men,
Began a fresh assault.

Ďun.

Dismayed not

This our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?
Sold.

Yes;

As sparrows, eagles; or the hare, the lion.
If I say sooth, I must report they were
As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks;

*

*

*

*

*

*

so they

Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe.
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
Or memorize another Golgotha,

I cannot tell.

But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.

Dun. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds; They smack of honour both.-Go, get him surgeons. [Exit Soldier, attended.

Enter Rosse and ANGUS.

Who comes here now?

Mal.

The worthy Thane of Rosse.

Len. What a haste looks through his eyes!

So should he look, that comes 3 to speak things strange. Rosse. God save the King!

Dun.

Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane ? Rosse. From Fife, great King; where the Norweyan banners

Did flout the sky and fan our people cold.
Norway himself, with terrible numbers, there
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor

The Thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict;
Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,
Confronted him with self-comparisons,
Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,

The victory fell on us

Dun.

Rosse.

Great happiness!

That now

Sweno, the Norway's king, craves composition;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes' Inch,
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

Dun. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom-interest.-Go, pronounce his present

death,

And with his former title greet Macbeth.

Rosse. I'll see it done.

Dun. What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Heath.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1 Witch.

HERE hast thou been, sister?

WH

2 Witch. Killing swine.

3 Witch. Sister, where thou?

1 Witch. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap, And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd.-Give me, quoth I.

Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyon cries.
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master of the Tiger:
But in a sieve I'll thither sail,

And, like a rat without a tail,

I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.

2 Witch. I'll give thee a wind. 1 Witch. Thou art kind.

3 Witch. And I another.

1 Witch. I myself have all the other;

And the very ports they blow,

All the quarters that they know

In the shipman's card.

I'll drain him dry as hay;

Sleep shall neither night nor day
Hang upon his pent-house lid;
He shall live a man forbid.

Weary sev'n-nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine;
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd.
Look what I have.

2 Witch. Shew me, shew me.

1 Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb,

Wreck'd, as homeward he did come. [Drum within. 3 Witch. A drum, a drum;

Macbeth doth come.

All. The weyard1 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.
Peace!-the charm's wound up.

Enter MACBETH and BANQUO.

Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen. Ban. How far is't call'd to Fores?-What are these,

So wither'd, and so wild in their attire;

That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are on't?-Live you? or are you aught

That man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying

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

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?-I' the name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed

Which outwardly ye shew? My noble partner
You greet with present 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 seeds of Time,

And say, 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! 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
Stands not within the prospect of belief,

No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence
You owe this strange intelligence; or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way,
With such 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! 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 on the insane root,

That takes the reason prisoner?

Mucb. Your children shall be kings.
Ban.

You shall be King.

Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so? Ban. To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here?

Enter Rosse and ANGUS.

Rosse. The King hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth, The news of thy success; and when he reads Thy personal venture in the rebel's fight, His wonders and his praises do contend, Which should be thine, or his. Silenc'd with that, In viewing o'er the rest of the selfsame day, He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,— Strange images of death. As thick as tale, 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; Only to herald thee into his sight, not pay thee.

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?

[Aside.

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 judgement bears that life

Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin'd

With those of 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, [Aside.]—Thanks for your