1. Witch. A sailor's wife had chesnuts 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 o'the
Tyger:

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.

3. Witch.

Thou art kind.

And I another.

1. Witch. I myself have all the other; And the very ports they blow,

All the quarters that they know
I' the shipman's card.

I will 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-tost.
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.

3. Witch. A drum, a drum;

Macbeth doth come.

All. The weird 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.

[Drum

within.]

Macb.

Enter MACBETH and BANQUO.

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

aught

That man may question?

stand me.

are you

You seem to under

By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips: You should be wo

men,

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? T'the name of

truth,

Are ye fantastical, or that indeed

Which outwardly ye shew? My noble partner You greet with present grace, and great predic

tion

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.

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 Gla

mis ;

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 prophetick greeting

Speak, I charge you. [Witches vanish.] Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water

has,

And these are of them:- Whither are they va

nish'd?

Macb. Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted

As breath into the wind.

staid!

'Would they had

Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak

about?

Or have we eaten on the insane root,

That takes the reason prisoner?
Macb. Your children shall be kings.

Ban. You shall be king.

Macb. And thane of Cawdor too; went it
not so ?

Ban. To the self-same tune, and words.
Who's here?

Enter ROSSE and ANGUS.

Rosse. The king hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,

The news of thy succefs: and when he reads
Thy personal ventnre in the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine, or his: Silenc'd with

that,

In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same 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 ho

nour,

He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Caw

dor:

In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
For it is thine.

Ban. What, can the devil speak true?

Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives; Why do you dress me

In borrow'd robes ?.

Ang.

Ang. Who was the thane, lives yet;

But under heavy judgement bears that life Which he deserves to lose. Whe'r 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. Thanks for your

pains.

Do you not hope your children shall be kings, When those that gave the thane of Cawdor

to me,

Promis'd no less to them?

Ban. That, trusted home,

Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths;
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us
In deepest consequence.

pray you.

Cousins, a word I

Macb. Two truths are told,

As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentle-

men.

This supernatural soliciting

Cannot be ill; cannot be good: — If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Caw.

dor:

If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
Whose horrid image dothunfix my hair,