Saucy and overbold? How did you dare And, which is worse, all you have done Spiteful and wrathful; who, as others do, Meet me i' the morning: thither he Great business must be wrought ere noon: There hangs a vaporous drop profound; Is mortal's chiefest enemy. [Music and song within: Come away, come away, &c. Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see, 1 Witch. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back [Exit. [Exeunt. A Room in the Palace. Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. again. SCENE VI.-FORRES. Enter LENNOX 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 Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd, It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father? damned fact! That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? As, an 't please heaven, he shall not, they should find But, peace!-for from broad words, and 'cause he fail'd His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear, Macduff lives in disgrace. Sir, can you tell Where he bestows himself? Lord. To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward: Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights; Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives; Prepares for some attempt of war. Sent he to Macduff? Lord. He did: and with an absolute, Sir, not I, And hums, as who should say, You'll rue the time And that well might Len. May soon return to this our suffering country Lord. I'll send my prayers with him! [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. A dark Cave. In the middle, a Caldron Boiling. Thunder. Enter the three Witches. 1 Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. 2 Witch. Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin'd. 3 Witch. Harpier cries:-'tis time, 'tis time. 1 Witch. Round about the caldron go; In the poison'd entrails throw.- All. Double, double toil and trouble; Enter HECATE. Hec. O, well done! I commend your pains; SONG. Black spirits and white, red spirits and gray; 2 Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs, Enter MACBETH. [Exit HECATE. 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 lodg'd, and trees blown down; Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure Even till destruction sicken, To what I ask you. -answer me 1 Witch. 2 Witch. 3 Witch. Speak. Demand. We'll answer. 1 Witch. Say, if thoud'st rather hear it from our mouths, Or from our masters? Macb. Call 'em, let me see 'em. 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 naught. 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 harp'd 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. 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 Macb. That will never be: Who can impress the forest; bid the tree [Descends. Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good! Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd Macbeth |