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 seven-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. Show me, show 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.

Enter MACBETH and BANQUO.

[Drum within.

Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Ban. How far is 't call'd to Forres?-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 are you aught

That man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her chappy 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?

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?-I' the name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed

Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace and great prediction
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.

1 Witch. Hail!

2 Witch. Hail!

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 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 you.
[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 melted
As breath into the wind.-Would they had stay'd!
Ban. Were such things here as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten on the insane root

That takes the reason prisoner?

You shall be king.

Macb. Your children shall be kings.
Ban.
Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?
Ban. To the self-same tune and words. Who's here?

Enter Ross and ANGUS.

Ross. 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 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 sight,

Not pay thee.

Ross. 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?

Macb. The Thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress

me

In borrow'd 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 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 [aside].-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's

In deepest consequence.

Cousins, a word, I pray you.

Macb.

Two truths are told,

As happy prologues to the swelling act

Of the imperial theme [aside].—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 suggestion

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

[Aside.

Is smother'd in surmise; and nothing is

But what is not.

Ban.

Look, how our partner's rapt. Macb. [aside.] If chance will have me king, why, chance Without my stir. [may crown me, Ban. Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use.

Macb. [aside.]

New honours come upon him,

Come what come may,

Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

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 register'd where every day I turn

The leaf to read them.-Let us toward the king.—
Think upon what hath 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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Forres. A Room in the Palace.

Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN,
LENNOX and Attendants.

Dun. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not
Those in commission yet return'd?

My liege,

Mal.
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,
As 'twere a careless trifle.

Dun.

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 MACBETH, BANQUO, Ross and ANGUS.

O worthiest cousin!

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.
Macb. 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 everything
Safe toward your love and honour.

Dun.

Welcome hither:

I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing.-Noble Banquo,
That hast no less deserv'd, nor must be known
No less to have done so, let me infold thee,
And hold thee to my heart.

Ban.

There if I grow,

The harvest is your own.
Dun.
My plenteous joys,
Wanton in fullness, 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

Our eldest, Malcolm; whom we name hereafter
The Prince of Cumberland: which honour must
Not unaccompanied invest him only,

But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine

On all deservers. From hence to Inverness,

And bind us further to you.

Macb. The rest is labour, which is not us'd for you:

I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful

The hearing of my wife with your approach;

So, humbly take my leave.

Dun.

My worthy Cawdor!

Macb. [aside.] The Prince of Cumberland!-That is a

step,

On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap,
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.

Dun. True, worthy Banquo, he is full so valiant;
And in his commendations I am fed,-
It is a banquet to me. Let us after him,

[Exit.