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Who comes here?
The worthy thane of Rosse.
LEN. What a haste looks through his eyes!
So should he look that seems to speak strange things.
DUN. Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane?
Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky,
Norway himself, with terrible numbers,
The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict:
Point against point, rebellious arm 'gainst arm,
The victory fell on us;—
ROSSE. That now
Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
Till he disbursed, at St. Colmes' inch,
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.
DUN. No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest:-Go, pronounce his present death,
And with his former title greet Macbeth.
ROSSE. I'll see it done.
DUN. What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.
SCENE III-A Heath. Thunder.
Enter the three Witches.
1 WITCH. Where hast thou been, sister?
2 WITCH. Killing swine.
3 WITCH. Sister, where thou?
1 WITCH. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd:-"Give me,"
"Aroint thee, witch!" the rump-fed ronyon cries.
Her husband 's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:
2 WITCH. I'll give thee a wind.
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'll drain him dry as hay:
Sleep shall neither night nor day
2 WITCH. Show me, show me.
1 WITCH. Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wrack'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,
Peace!-the charm 's wound up.
Enter MACBETH and BANQUO.
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,
Upon her skinny lips: You should be women,
That you are so.
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
3 WITCH. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king here
BAN. Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not:
And say, which grain will grow, and which will not,
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:
No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence
With such prophetic greeting?-Speak, I charge you.
BAN The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
MACB. Your children shall be kings.
You shall be king.
MACB. And thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?
Enter ROSSE and ANGUS.
ROSSE. The king hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,
Which should be thine, or his: Silenc'd with that,
ROSSE. And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
For it is thine.
What, can the devil speak true? MAC. The thane of Cawdor lives: Why do you dress me In borrow'd robes?
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;
And vantage; or that with both he labour'd
But treasons capital, confess'd, and prov'd,
That, trusted home,
Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 't is strange:
The instruments of darkness tell us truths;
In deepest consequence.—
Cousins, a word, I pray you.
Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen.—
Cannot be ill; cannot be good:-If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
My thought, whose murther yet is but fantastical,
But what is not.
Look, how our partner's rapt.
MACB. If chance will have me king, why, chance may
Without my stir.
New honours come upon him,