Macb. Can fuch things be,

And overcome us like a fummer's cloud,

Without our special wonder? You make me ftrange
Even to the difpofition that I owe,

When now I think you can behold fuch fights,
And keep the natural ruby of your cheek,
When mine is blanch'd with fear.

Roffe. What fights, my lord?

Lady. I pray you, fpeak not t; he grows worfe

and worse?

Queftion enrages him; at once, good night :-
Stand not upon the order of your going,
But go at once.

Len. Good night, and better health
Attend his majesty!

Lady. A kind good night to all! [Exeunt Lords. Mach. It will have blood; they fay, blood will

have blood:

Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak;
Augurs, and understood relations, have

By magot pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth
The fecret'ft man of blood.-What is the night?
Lady. Almoft at odds with morning, which is which.
Mach. How fay'ft thou, that Macduff denies his
At our great bidding?
[perfon,

Lady. Did you fend to him, fir?

Mach. I hear it by the way; but I will fend: There's not a one of them, but in his house

I keep a fervant fee'd.

I will to-morrow

(And betimes I will), unto the weird fifters:

More fhall they fpeak; for now I am bent to know, By the worst means, the worst; for mine own good, All caufes fhall give way; I am in blood

Stept in fo far, that, fhould I wade no more,

Returning

Returning were as tedious as go o'er :

Strange things I have in head, that will to hand; Which must be acted, ere they may be scann'd. Lady. You lack the feafon of all natures, fleep. Mach. Come we'll to fleep: My ftrange and felfIsthe initiate fear, that wants hard use:

We are yet but young in deed.

SCENE V. Thunder.

[abufe [Exeunt.

Enter the three Witches, meeting HECATE. 1Witch. Why,how now, Hecate? you look angerly. Hec. Have I not reafon, beldams, as you are, Saucy, and overbold? How did you dare

To trade and traffic with Macbeth,

In riddles and affairs of death:

And I, the mistress of your charms,

The clofe contriver of all harms,
Was never call'd to bear my part,
Or fhew the glory of our art?

And, which is worfe, all you have done
Hath been but for a wayward fon,

Spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do,
Loves for his own ends, not for you.
But make amends now: Get you gone,
And at the pit of Acheron,

Meet me i' the morning: thither he
Will come to know his defliny.
Your veffels, and your fpells, provide,
Your charms, and ev'ry thing beside :
I am for the air; this night I'll spend
Unto a difmal and a fatal end.
Great bufinefs must be wrought ere noon :
Upon the corner of the moon

There

There hangs a vaporous drop profound;
I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
And that, distill'd by magic flights,
Shall raife fuch artificial fprights,
As, by the ftrength of their illufion,
Shall draw him on to his confufion :
He fhall fpurn fate, scorn death, and bear
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear :
And you all know, fecurity

Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

[Mufic and a Song.

Hark, I am call'd; my little spirit see,

Sits in a foggy cloud, and ftays for me.

[Sing within. Come away, come away, &c, 1 Witch. Come, let's make hafte, fhe'll foon be [Exeunt.

back again.

SCENE VI.

Enter LENOX, and another Lord."

Len. My former fpeeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret further: only, I fay,

Things have been ftrangely born: The gracious
Duncan

Was pitied of Macbeth :-marry, he was dead :—
And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too late;
Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleance kill'd,
For Fleance fled. Men muft not walk too late.
Who cannot want the thought, how monftrous
It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain,
To kill their gracious father? damned fact !
How did it grieve Macbeth! did he not straight,
In pious rage, the two delinquents tear,

That were the flaves of drink, and thralls of fleep?
Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wifely too;

For

For, 'twould have anger'd any heart alive,
To hear the men deny it. So that, I fay,
He has borne all things well: and I do think,
That, had he Duncan's fons under his key

(As, an't please heaven, he shall not), they should find
What 'twere to kill a father; fo thould Fleance.
But, peace!-for from broad words, and 'cause he fail'd
His prefence at the tyrant's feast, I hear,

Macduff lives in difgrace: Sir, can you tell
Where he beftows himfelf?

Lord. The fon of Duncan,

From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
Lives in the English court; and is receiv'd
Of the most pious Edward, with fuch grace,
That the malevolence of fortune nothing
Takes from his high refpect. Thither Macduff is
To pray the holy king, upon his aid

[gone
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward:
That, by the help of thefe (with him above
To ratify the work), we may again

Give to our tables meat, fleep to our nights;
Free from our feafts and banquets bloody knives
Do faithful homage, and receive free honours;
All which we pine for now: And this report
Hath fo exafperate the king, that he
Prepares for fome attempt of war.

Len. Sent he to Macduff?

Lord. He did and with an abfolute, Sir, not I, The cloudy meffenger turns me his back,

And hums; as who fhould fay, You'll rue the time Thut clogs me with this answer.

Len. And that well might

Advife him to a caution, to hold what distance
His wifdom can provide. Some holy angel

1:

E

FU

50

Fly to the court of England, and unfold

His meffage, ere he come; that a fwift blessing
May foon return to this our fuffering country,
Under a hand accurs'd!

Lord. I'll fend my prayers with him. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Thunder.

Enter the three Witches.

I Witch.

THRICE the brinded cat hath mew'd.

2 Witch. Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin'd. 3 Witch. Harper cries:-'tis time, 'tis time. I Witch. Round about the cauldron go; In the poifon'd entrails throw.

Toad, that under the cold ftone,
Days and nights haft thirty-one,
Swelter'd venom, fleeping, got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot!
All. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble.
I Witch. Fillet of a fenny fnake,
In the cauldron boil and bake:
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing,
For a charm of pow'rful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

All.