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SCENE I. An open place.

An English Doctor. A Scotch Doctor. A Soldier. A Porter. An old Man.

Lady Macbeth.

Lady Macduff.

Gentlewoman attending on lady Macbeth. Hecate, and three Witches.

Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, Attendants, and Messengers.

The Ghost of Banquo, and several other Appari

tions.

Scene, in the end of the fourth act, lies in England; through the rest of the play, in Scotland, and, chiefly, at Macbeth's castle.

Do swarm upon him,) from the western isles Of Kernes and Gallowglasses is supplied;" Thunder and Light- And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,

ning. Enter three Witches.

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Show'd like a rebel's whore: But all's too weak:
For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name,)
Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,
Which smok'd with bloody execution,
Like valour's minion,

Carv'd out his passage, till he fac'd the slave;
And ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,
And fix'd his head upon our battlements.

Dun. O, valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! Sold. As whence the sun 'gins his reflexion Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break; So from that spring, whence comfort seem'd to come, Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark: No sooner justice had, with valour arm'd, Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heels: But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, With furbish'd arms, and new supplies of men, Began a fresh assault.

Dun.

Dismay'd not this

Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?

Sold.

Yes;

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(6) Make another Golgotha as memorable as the Arst

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1 Witch. A sailor's wife had chesnuts in her lap, Your favours, nor your hate.

2 Witch. Killing swine.

And say, which grain will grow, and which will not,

3 Witch. Sister, where thou?

Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear,

And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd:

1 Witch. Hail!

Give me, quoth I:

2 Witch. Hail!

Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyons cries.

3 Witch. Hail!

But in a sieve I'll thither sail,

Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o'the Tiger:

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. Thou art kind.

3 Witch. 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-toss'd.
Look what I have.

2 Witch. Show me, show me.
1 Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb,

Wreck'd, as homeward he did come.

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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 Glamis;
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 prophetic greeting?-Speak, I charge
[Witches vanish.
Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
And these are of them:-Whither are they vanish'd?
Macb. Into the air; and what seem'd corporal,

you.

melted

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[Drum within. Or have we eaten of the insane root, 12

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That takes the reason prisoner?

Macb. Your children shall be kings. Ban.

(8) Prophetic sisters.

You shall be king.

(9) Supernatural, spiritual. (10) Estate.

(11) Rapturously affected.

(12) The root which makes insane.

Mach. And thane of Cawdor too; went it not so? Without my stir.
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 success: and when he reads Thy personal venture 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,1 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; To herald thee into his sight, not pay thee.

Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honour, He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor: In which addition, hail, most worthy thane! For it is thine.

Ban.

What, can the devil speak true?

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

In borrow'd robes?

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Two truths are told,

As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen.-
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 Cawdor:
If good, why do I yield to that suggestions
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,

And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears

Are less than horrible imaginings:

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man, that function
Is smother'd in surmise;" and nothing is,
But what is not.

Ban.

Look, how our partner's rapt. Macb. If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,

Ban. New honours come upon him Like our strange garments; cleave not to their mould, But with the aid of use. Macb. Come what come may; Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your lei

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My liege, They are not yet come back. But I have spoke With one that saw him die: who did report, That very frankly he confess'd his treasons; Implor'd your highness' pardon; and set forth A deep repentance: nothing in his life Became him, like the leaving it: he died As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd, 10 As 'twere a careless trifle.

Dun.

There's no art,

To find the mind's construction in the face: 11

He was a gentleman on whom I built

An absolute trust.-0 worthiest cousin!

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.

The sin of my ingratitude even now
Was heavy on me: Thou art so far before,
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
To overtake thee. 'Would thou hadst less deserv'd;
That the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
More is thy due than more than all can pay.
Mach. The service and the loyalty I owe,
In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
Is to receive our duties: and our duties

Are to your throne and state, children, and servants; Which do but what they should, by doing every thing

Safe toward your love and honour.
Dun.

Welcome hither:

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The harvest is your own. Dun.

There if I grow,

My plenteous joys, Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves In drops of sorrow. -Sons, kinsmen, thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know, We will establish our estate upon

(1) As fast as they could be counted. (2) Title. (8) Time and opportunity.

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(7) The powers of action are oppressed by con- mind by the lineaments of the face.

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