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Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Think of this, good peers,
Mac. What man dare, I dare:
the good meeting, With most admir'd disorder. Mac.
Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of
your cheeks, When mine are blanch'd with fear. Rosse.
What sights, my lord? Lady M. I pray you, speak not; he grows worse
Question enrages him: at once, good night:-
Good night, and better health Attend his majesty! Lady M.
A kind good night to all!
[Exeunt Lords, and Attendants. Mac. It will have blood; they say, blood will
have blood: Stones have been known to move, and trees to
speak; Augurs, and understood relations, have By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought
forth The secret’st man of blood.—What is the night? Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which
is which. Mac. How say’st thou, that Macduff denies his
send to him, sir?
Mac. Come, we'll to sleep: My strange and
self-abuse Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use :We are yet but young in deed.
Thunder. Enter Hecate, meeting the three IVitches. 1 Witch. Why, how now, Hecate?
angerly Hec. Have I not reason, beldams, as you are, Saucy, and overbold? How did you dare To trade and traffick with Macbeth, In riddles, and affairs of death; And I, the mistress of your charms, The close contriver of all harms, Was never call’d to bear my part, Or show the glory of our art? And, which is worse, all you have done Hath been but for a wayward son, Spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you. But make amends now: Get you gone, And at the pit of Acheron Meet me i'the morning; thither he Will come to know his destiny. Your vessels, and your spells, provide, Your charms, and every thing beside: I am for the air; this night I'll spend Unto a dismal-fatal end.
Great business must be wrought ere noon:
all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy.
Song. [within.] Come away, Come away, &c. Hark, I am call’d; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Exit. 1 Witch. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.
A ROOM IN THE PALACE.
Enter Lenox, and another Lord. Len. My former speeches have but hit your
thoughts, Which can interpret further: only, I say, Things have been strangely borne: The gracious
Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth:—marry, he was dead: And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late; Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleance kill'd,
For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late.
find What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. But, peace!—for from broad words, and 'cause he
The son of Duncan,