Enter HECATE and the other three Witches.

Hec. 0, well done! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i' the gains.
And now about the caldron sing,
Like elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.

SONG.

Black spirits and white,
Red spirits and gray;
Mingle, mingle, mingle,

You that mingle may.

2 Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Open, locks, whoever knocks.

Enter МАСВЕТН.

Macb. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? What is't you do?

All.

A deed without a name.

Macb. I conjure you, by that which you profess,
(Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me.
Though you untie the winds, and let them fight
Against the churches; though the yesty waves

Confound and swallow navigation up;

Though bladed corn be lodged, and trees blown down; Though castles totter on their warders' heads;

Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope

Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
Of nature's germins tumble all together,

Even till destruction sicken,- answer me
To what I ask you.

1 Witch.

2 Witch.

3 Witch.

Speak.

Demand.

We'll answer.

1 Witch. Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths, Or from our masters'?

Macb.

Call them; let me see them.

1 Witch. Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten

Her nine farrow; grease, that's sweaten
From the murderer's gibbet, throw

Into the flame.

All.

Come, high, or low;

Thyself and office deftly show.

Thunder. An Apparition of an armed Head rises.

Macb. Tell me, thou unknown power,1 Witch.

He knows thy thought;

Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;
Beware the thane of Fife.- Dismiss me.- Enough.

[Descends. Macb. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks; Thou hast harped my fear aright.-But one word more ;1 Witch. He will not be commanded. Here's another, More potent than the first.

Thunder. An Apparition of a bloody Child rises.
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!—

App.

Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee. App. Be bloody, bold, And resolute; laugh to scorn the power of man, For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth.

[Descends.

Macb. Then live, Macduff; what need I fear of thee?

But yet I'll make assurance double sure,

And take a bond of fate. Thou shalt not live,

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

And sleep in spite of thunder.- What is this,

Thunder. An Apparition of a Child crowned, with a Tree in his Hand, rises.

That rises like the issue of a king;

And wears upon his baby brow the round

And top of sovereignty.

All.

Listen, but speak not to't.

App. Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are;
Macbeth shall never vanquished be, until

Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him.

Macb.

That will never be; Who can impress the forest; bid the tree

[Descends

Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodemen's! good!
Rebellious head, rise never, till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time, and mortal custom.-Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, (if your art
Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?

All.

Seek to know no more.
Macb. I will be satisfied. Deny me this,
And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know:
Why sinks that caldron? and what noise is this?

[Hautboys. 1 Witch. Show! 2 Witch. Show! 3 Witch. Show! All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;

Come like shadows, so depart.

Eight kings appear, and pass over the stage in order; the last with a glass in his hand; BANQUO following.

Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down!
Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs; -and thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.—
A third is like the former.-Filthy hags!

Why do you show me this?-A fourth?-Start, eyes!
What! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?
Another yet?-A seventh? -I'll see no more.—
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
Which shows me many more; and some I see,
That twofold balls and treble sceptres carry ;
Horrible sight!-Now, I see, 'tis true;
For the blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his.-What, is this so?
1 Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so. But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? -
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights,
And show the best of our delights;
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antique round;
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.

[Music. The Witches dance, and vanish. Macb. Where are they? Gone?-Let this pernicious

hour

Stand aye accursed in the calendar!

Come in, without there!

No, indeed, my lord.

Macb. Infected be the air whereon they ride;

And damned all those that trust them!-I did hear
The galloping of horse. Who was't came by?

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

Macb.

Len. Ay, my good lord.

Fled to England?

Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits : The flighty purpose never is o'ertook,

Unless the deed go with it. From this moment

The very firstlings of my heart shall be

The firstlings of my hand. And even now,

To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done. The castle of Macduff I will surprise;

Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword

His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls

That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool:
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool.

But no more sights!-Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Fife. A Room in Macduff's Castle.

Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and RossE.

L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the land? Rosse. You must have patience, madam.

L. Macd.

He had none;

His flight was madness. When our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors.

You know not,

Rosse.
Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.

L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion, and his titles, in a place

From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,

The most diminutive of birds, will fight,

Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All is the fear, and nothing is the love;
As little is the wisdom, where the flight

So runs against all reason.

My dearest coz,

Rosse.
I pray you, school yourself: but, for your husband,

He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows

The fits o' the season. I dare not speak much further:

But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,

And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumor

From what we fear, yet know not what we fear;
But float upon a wild and violent sea,

Each way, and move.-I take my leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be here again;

Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before.-My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!

L. Macd. Fathered he is, and yet he's fatherless.
Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort.
I take my leave at once.

[Exit ROSSE. Sirrah, your father's dead;

L. Macd.
And what will you do now? How will you live?
Son. As birds do, mother.

L. Macd.

What, with worms and flies?

Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
L. Macd. Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the net, nor

lime,

The pit-fall, nor the gin.

Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.

My father is not dead, for all your saying.

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 sell again.

L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet i' faith, 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 swears and lies.

Son. And be all traitors, that do so?

L. Macd. Every one that does so, is a traitor, and must be hanged.

Son. And must they all be hanged, that swear and lie? L. Macd. Every one.

Son. Who must hang them?

L. Macd. Why, the honest men.

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

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