Norway, himself with numbers terrible, (3) The Thane of Cawdor, 'gan a difmal conflict; Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm, Roffe. Now Saveno, Norway's King, craves compo- Nor would we deign him burial of his men, 'Till he disburfed, at Saint Colmes-kill-ifle, Ten thousand dollars, to our gen'ral ufe. King. No more that Thane of Cawdor fhall deceive Our bofom int'reft. Go, pronounce his death; And with his former Title greet Macbeth. Roffe. I'll fee it done. King. What he hath loft, noble Macbeth hath won. [Exeunt. Cannons overcharg'd; why? because they redoubled Strokes on the Foe with twice the Fury, and Impetuofity, as before. (3) Norway himself, with Numbers terrible, Affifted by that, &c.] Norway himfelf affifted, &c. is a Read ing we owe to the Editors, not to the Poet. That Energy and Contraft of Expreffion are loft, which my Pointing restores. The Senfe is, Norway, who was in himself terrible by his own Numbers, when affifted by Cawdor, became yet more terrible, (4) Till that Bellona's Bridegroom, lapt in Proof, Confronted him with felf-Comparisons, Point against point, rebellious arm 'gainst arm, Curbing his lavish Spirit.] Here again We are to quarrel with the Transposition of an innocent Comma; which however becomes dangerous to Senfe, when in the Hands either of a careJefs or ignorant Editor. Let us fee who is it, that brings this rebellious Arm? Why, it is Bellona's Bridegroom; and who is He, but Macbeth. We can never believe, our Author meant any thing like This. My Regulation of the Pointing restores the true Meaning; that the loyal Macbeth confronted the disloyal Cawdor, arm to arm. SCENT 1 Witch. SCENE changes to the Heath. WHE HERE haft thou been, sister ? 3 Witch. Sifter, where thou? I Witch. A failor's wife had chefnuts in her lap, And mouncht, and mouncht, and mouncht. Give me, quoth I. Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyon cries. And like a rat without a tail, I'll do I'll do and I'll do. z Witch. I'll give thee a wind. I Witch. Thou art kind. 3 Witch. And I another. 1 Witch. I my self have all the other, I will drain him dry as hay; Look, what I have. 2 Witch. Shew me, fhew me. Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wreckt as homeward he did come. 3 Witch. A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come ! [Drum within. All. The Weird fifters, hand in hand, (5) Posters (5) The weyward Sifters, band in hand,] The Witches are here Speaking of themselves, and it is worth an Enquiry why they M 5 fhould Posters of the fea and land, Thus do go about, about, Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, Peace! the Charm's wound up. Enter Macbeth and Banquo, with Soldiers and other attendants. Mac. So foul and fair a day I have not seen. That look not like th' inhabitants o'th' earth, You fhould be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret, 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! Witch. All-hail, Macbeth! that fhalt be King hereafter. Ban. Good Sir, why do you ftart, and feem to fear Things that do found fo fair? I'th' name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or That indeed [To the Witches. Which outwardly ye fhew? my noble Partner fhould file themselves the wayward, or wayward Sifters. This Word in its general Acceptation fignifies, perverse, froward, moody, obftinate, untractable, &c. and is every where so used by our Shakespeare. It is improbable, the Witches would adopt this Epithet to themfelves, in any of thefe Senfes; and therefore we are to look a little farther for the Poet's Word and Meaning. Wierd, in the Scotch Language, fignifies a Witch, or Wizard: and therefore, in every Paffage, where there is any Relation to thefe Witches or Wizards, my Emendation must be embraced, and we muft read Wierd, or Weird. You You greet with prefent grace, and great prediction That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not. And fay, which Grain will grow and which will not; 1 Witch. Hail! 2 Witch. Hail! 3 Witch. Hail! Witch. Leffer than Macbeth, and greater. 2 Witch. Net fo happy, yet much happier. 3 Witch. Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none: So, all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! 1 Witch. Banquo and Macheth, all-hail !. Macb. Stay, you imperfect Speakers, tell me more; No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence you. With fuch prophetick Greeting? - fpeak, I charge 'Would they had staid! Ban. Were fuch things here, as we do speak about? (6) (6) Were fuch Things here, as we do speak about ? Or bave we eaten of the infane Root, That takes the Reason prisoner?] Or Hector Boethius, who gives us an Account of Sueno's Army being intoxicated by a Preparation put upon them by their fubtle Enemy, informs us; that there is a Plant, which grows in great Quantity in Scotland, call'd Solatrum Amentiale; that its Berries are purple, or rather black, when full ripe; and have a Quality Or have we eaten of the infane root, Mach. Your children fhall be Kings. Ban. You fhall be King. Mach. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not fo? Roffe. The King hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth, To give thee, from our royal Master, Not pay thee. thanks Roffe. And for an earneft 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 Cardor lives; Why do you drefs me in his borrow'd robes? Quality of laying to Sleep; or of driving into Madness, if a more than ordinary Quantity of them be taken. This Paffage of Boethius, I dare fay, our Poet had an Eye to : and, I think, it fairly accounts for his Mention of the infane Root. Combin'd |