Sold.

Yes;

As fparrows, eagles; or the hare, the lion.
If I fay footh, I must report they were
As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks ;
So they

Doubly redoubled ftrokes upon the foe :
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
Or memorize another Golgotha,

I cannot tell :

But I am faint, my gafhes cry for help.

Dun. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds; They smack of honour both :-Go, get him furgeons. [Exit Soldier, attended.

Enter ROSSE.

Who comes here?

Mal.

The worthy thane of Roffe.

Len. What a hafte looks through his eyes! So fhould

he look,

That feems to speak things ftrange.

Roffe.

God fave the king!

From Fife, great king,

Dun. Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane ?
Roffe.

Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky,
And fan our people cold.

Norway himself, with terrible numbers,
Affifted by that most disloyal traitor

The thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict
Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapt in proof,
Confronted him with self-comparisons,
Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish fpirit: And, to conclude,
The victory fell on us;-

Dun.

Great happiness!

B 2

Roffe.

Roffe. That now

Sweno, the Norways' king, craves compofition;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,

Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes' inch,
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor fhall deceive

Our bofom interest:-Go, pronounce his death,
And with his former title greet Macbeth.

Roffe. I'll fee it done.

Dun. What he hath loft, noble Macbeth hath won.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Heath.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1. Witch. Where haft thou been, fifter?

2. Witch. Killing fwine.

3. Witch. Sifter, where thou?

1.Witch. A failor's wife had chefnuts in her lap, And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd :Give me, quoth I:

Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyon cries.

Her husband's to Aleppo gone, mafter o' the Tiger:

But in a fieve I'll thither fail,

And, like a rat without a tail,
I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.

2. Witch. I'll give thee a wind.
1. Witch. Thou art kind.

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

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 fifters, 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.

[Drum within.

Enter MACBETH and BANQUO.

Mac. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Ban. How far is't call'd to Fores-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 choppy finger laying

Upon her skinny lips :-You should be women,

And yet your beards forbid me to interpret

1. Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of

Glamis !

12. Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!

3. Witch. All hail, Macbeth! that fhalt be king hereafter Ban. Good fir, why do you ftart; and feem to fear Things that do found fo fair ?--I' the name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed

Which outwardly ye fhow? My noble partner
You greet with prefent grace, and great prediction
Of noble having, and of royal hope,

That he feems rapt withal; to me you speak not:
If you can look into the feeds of time,

And fay, 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. Leffer than Macbeth, and greater. 2. Witch. Not fo happy, yet much happier.

3. Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none: So, all hail, Macbeth, and Banquo!

I. Witch. Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail!

Macb. Stay, you imperfect fpeakers, tell me more:
By Sinel's death, I know, I am thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
A profperous gentleman; and, to be king,
Stands not within the profpect of belief,

No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence
You owe this ftrange intelligence? or why

Upon this blafted heath you ftop our way

With fuch prophetick greeting ?-Speak, I charge you.

[Witches vanish.

Ban.