1st Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed. 2nd Witch. Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whined. 3rd Witch. Harper cries:-'Tis time, 'tis time. 1st Witch. Round about the cauldron go;
In the poisoned entrails throw.- Toad, that under the cold stone, Days and nights hast thirty-one Sweltered venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i'the charméd pot! Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. 2nd Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake: Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. 3rd Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf; Witch's mummy; maw and gulf Of the ravined salt-sea shark; Root of hemlock, digged i'the dark; Liver of blaspheming Jew; Gall of goat, and slips of yew Slivered in the moon's eclipse; Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips; Finger of birth-strangled babe, Ditch-delivered by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a tiger's chawdron, For the ingredients of our cauldron. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. 2nd Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood, Then the charm is firm and good.
Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee. App. 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?
Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down!
Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls:—and thy air, Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first:- A third is like the former :-Filthy hags! Why do you shew 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 shews me many more; and some I see That twofold balls and treble sceptres carry : Horrible sight!-Ay, now I see 't is true; For the blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me, And points at them for his.-What, is this so? 1st Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so: but why Stands Macbeth thus amazédly? Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights, And shew 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 per
Fled to England?
Len. Ay, my good lord.
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
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.
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 rumour 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 up-
To what they were before.-My pretty cousin, Blessing upon you!
L. Macd. Fathered he is, and yet he's father
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. 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, 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?
Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.
L. Macd. Poor prattler? how thou talk'st.
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland, and yelled out Like syllable of dolour.
Mal. What I believe, I'll wail; What know, believe; and what I can redress, As I shall find the time to friend, I will. What you have spoke, it may be so perchance. This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest: you have loved him well;
He hath not touched you yet. I am young; but something
You may deserve of him through me: and wisdom To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb, To appease an angry god.
Macd. I am not treacherous. Mal. But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil,
In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your
I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
I think our country sinks beneath the yoke; It weeps; it bleeds; and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds: I think, withal, There would be hands uplifted in my right; And here, from gracious England, have I offer Of goodly thousands. But, for all this, When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head, Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country Shall have more vices than it had before; More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever, By him that shall succeed.
No, not to live.-O, nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptered,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again; Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accursed, And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal father Was a most sainted king; the queen that bore thee, Oftener upon her knees than on her feet, Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself Have banished me from Scotland.-O, my breast, Thy hope ends here!
Mal. Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth By many of these trains hath sought to win me Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me From over-credulous haste: but God above Deal between thee and me! for even now I put myself to thy direction, and Unspeak mine own detraction; here abjure The taints and blames I laid upon myself, For strangers to my nature. I am yet Unknown to woman; never was forsworn; Scarcely have coveted what was mine own; At no time broke my faith; would not betray
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