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And yet are on't? Live you, or are you ought
That Man may.question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy Finger laying
Upon her skinny Lips. You should be Women,
And yet your Beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.
Macb. Speak if you can ; what are you?

Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!
2 Wich. All hail, Macbeth! hailto 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 sourd so fair? i'th' name of Truth,
Are ye fantastical, or that indeed To the Witchese
Which outwardly ye shew? my noble Partner,
You greet with present Grace, and great Prediâion
Of noble having, and of Royal hope,
That he seems wrapt withal; to me you speak not.

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.

i Witch. Hail !
2 Witch. Hail!
3 Witch. Hail !
i Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
2 Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier.

3 Wuch. Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none 3 So all hail! Macbeth and Banquo.

I 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 Prophetick Greeting?
Speak, I charge you.

[Witches vanishi Ban. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water has; And these are of them : Whicher are they vanish'd ?


Macb. Into the Air : and what seem'd corporal,
Melted, as breach into the Wind.
Would they had staid.

Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten of the insane Root,
That takes the Reason Prisoner ?

Macb. Your Children shall be Kings.
Ban. You shall be King. ii
Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too ; went it not fo?
Ban. To th' self-fame tune, and words ; who's here

Enter Rosse and Angus.
Roffe. 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'th' self-fame day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan Ranks,
Nothing afraid, of what thy self didst make,
Strange Images of Death; as thick as Hail
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 light,
Not pay thee.
Rosse. And for an earnest of a greater

He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor;
In which Addition, hail, most worthy Thane !
For it is thine.

Bax. What, can the Devil speak true?

Macb. The Thane of Cawdor lives ;
Why do you dress me in his borrowed Robes?

Ang. Who was the Thane, lives yet,
But under heavy Judgment bears that Life,
Which he deserves to lose.
Whether he was combin'd with those of Norway,
Or else did line the Rebel with hidden help,
And vantage; or that with both he labour'd
In his country's wráck, I know not :

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But Treasons Capital, confess'd, and provid,
Have overthrown him.
Macb. Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor!

The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains. [To Angus.
Do you not hope your Children shall be Kings? [To Banquo.
When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no less to them?

Ban, That trusted home,
Might yet enkindle you into the Crown, ,
Belides 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's
In deepest Consequence.
Cousins, a word, I pray you.

[To Rosse and Angus. Macb. Two Truths are told,

As happy Prologues to the swelling Act
Of the imperial Theam. I thank you, Gentlemen.
This supernatural solliciting
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 Suggestion,
Whofe 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 murther yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my fingle State of Man,
That Fun&ion is smother'd in surmise,
And nothing is, but what is not.

Ban. Look how our Partner's rapt.
Macb. If Chance will haye me King, why chance may

[Aladé. Without my ftir. .

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 thro the roughest Day.


crown me

Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

Macb. Give me your Favour : My dull Brain was wrought with things forgotten. Kind Gentlemen, your Pains are registred, Where every Day I turn the Leaf to read them. Let us toward the King ; think upon [To Banquo. What hach chanc'd, and at more time, The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak Our free Hearts each to other.

Ban. Very gladly.

Macb. 'Till then enough: Come, Friends.


SCENE IV. A Palace.
Flourish. Enter King, Malcolme, Donalbain, Lenox, and

King. Is Execution done on Cawdor ?
Are not those in Commillion yet returnid?

Mal. 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 dy'd,
As one that had been studied in his Death,
To throw away the dearest thing he owd,
As 't were a careless trifle.

King. There's no Art,
To find the Mind's Construction in the Face:
He was a Gentleman on whom I built
An absolute trust.

Enter Mackbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.
O worthiest Coulin!
The Sin of my Ingratitude even now
Was heavy on me. Thou art so far before,
That swifteft Wind of Recompence is flow,
To overtake thee. Would thou hadft less defervid,


That the Proportion both of Thanks aŭd Payment,
Might have been mine : Only I have left to say,
More is thy due, than more than all can pay.

Macb. The Service and the Loyalty I owe,
In doing it, pays it self.
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.

King. Welcome hither :
I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
That haft no less defery'd, and must be known,
No less to have done fo: Let me enfold thie,
And hold thee to my Heart.

Ban. There if I grow,
The Harvest is your own,

King. My plenteous Joys,
anton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
In drops of Sorrow. Sons, Kinsman, Thanes,

whose Places are the nearest, know,
We will establish our Estate upon
Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter,
The Prince of Cumberland: Which Honour must
Not unaccompanied, invest him only.
But Gigns of Nobleness, like Stars shall shine
On all Deservers. From hence to Envernes,
And bind us further to you.

Macb. The rest is labour, which is not us’d for you ;
I'll be my self the Harbinger, and make joyful
The hearing of my Wife with your approach,
So humbly

take my leave. King. My worthy Cawdor!

Macb. The Prince of Cumberland! On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap, [Afide For in my way it lies. Stars hide your Fires, Let not Light see my black and deep desires; The Eye wink at the Hand; yet let that be, Which the Eye fears, when it is done, to see. [Exit,

that is a step,

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