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Discomfort swell'd. Mark, King of Scotland, mark;
No sooner Justice had, with valour arm’d,
Compelld these skipping Kernes to trust their heels;
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,
With furbisht arms and new supplies of men
Began a fresh afsault.

King. Dismay'd not this
Our Captains, Macbeth and Banque

Cap. Yes,
As sparrows, eagles ; or the hare, the lion.
If I say sooth, I must report, they were
As cannons overcharg'ds with double cracks, (2)
So they redoubled ftroaks upon the foe:
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
Or memorize another Golgotha,
I cannot tell
But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.

King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds :
They Imack of honour both. Go, get him surgeons.

Enter Roffe and Angus.
But who comes here?

Mal. The worthy Thane of Rote.

Len. What hafte looks through his eyes
So should he look, that seems to speak things ftrange.

Rolle. God save the King !
King. Whence cam'ft thou, worthy Thane ?

Rojje. From Fife, great King,
Where the Norweyan Banners Hout the sky,
And fan our people cold.
Norway, himself with numbers terrible, (3)

Aflifted
So from that Spring, whence Comfort feem'd to come,

Discomforts well'd.
i. e. freain'd, Aow'd forth: a Word that peculiarly agrees
with the Metaphor of a Spring. The Original is Anglo-Saxon
peallian, fcaturire 3 which very well expresses the Diffulon and
Scattering of Water from its Head.

I must report they were
As Cannons overcharg'd with double cracks.) Cannons over.

charg'd

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Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
The Thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict.
'Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapt in proof, (4)
Confronted him with self-comparisons,
Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit. To conclude,
The victory fell on us.

King. Great happiness !
Roje. Now Sweno, Norway's King, craves compo-

sition :
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
'Till he disbursed, at Saint Golmes-kill-ise,
Ten thousand dollars, to our gen'ral use.

King. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive
Our bosom int’rest. Go, pronounce his death ;
And with his former Title greet Macbeth.

Rolle. I'll see it done.
King. What he hath loft, noble Macbeth hath won.

[Exeunt.

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charg'd with Cracks I have no idea of: My Pointing, I think, gives the easie and natural Sense. Macbeth and Banquo were like Cannons overcharg'd ; why? because they redoubled Strokes on the Foe with twice the Fury, and Impecuosity, as before.

(3) Norway himself, with Numbers terrible,

Allisted by that, &c.} Norway himself aslifted, &c. is a Reade
ing we owe to the Editors, not to the Poct. That Energy and
Contrast of Expression are lof, which my Pointing restores,
The Sense is, Norway, who was in himself terrible by his own
Numbers, when affifted by Cawdor, became yet more terrible.
(1) Till that Bellona's Bridegroom, lapt in Proof,

Confronted him with self-comparisons,
Point against point, rebellious arm 'gainst arm,

Curbing his lavish Spirit. ] Here again We are to quarrel with the Transposition of an innocent Comma; which however becomes dangerous to Sense, when in the Hands either of a careless or ignorant Editor. Let us see who is it, that brings this rebellious Arm? Why, it is Bellona's Bridegroom: and who is He, but Macbeth. We can never believe, our Author meant any thing like this. My Regulation of the Pointing restores the true Meaning ; that the loyal Macbeth confronted the disloyal Cawdor, arm to arm.

SCENE

SCENE changes to the Heath.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches. i Witch.

HERE hast thou been, fister?

2 Witch, Killing swine. 3 Witch. Sifter, where thou?

i Witch. A failor's wife had chesnuts in her lap, And mouncht, and mouncht, and mouncht. Give me,

WHE

quoth 1.

Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyon cries.
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o'th' Tyger :
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.
i Witch. Thou art kind.
3 Witch. And I another..

i Witch. I my self have all the other,
And the very points they blow;
All the quarters that they know,
I'th' fhip-man'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 fev'n-nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak and pine :
Though his bark cannot be loft,
Yet it shall be tempest-toft.
Look, what I have.

2 Witch, Shew me, shew me.

i Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wreckt as homeward he did come. (Drum within,

3 Witch. A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come ! AN. The Weird fifters, hand in hand, (5)

Posters (s) The weyward Sisters, hand in hand, ) The Witches are here fpeaking of themselves, and it is worth an Enquiry why they,

Mould

MS

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, with Soldiers and other

attendants. Mac. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Ban, How far is't call'd to Foris? - What are these,
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire,
That look not like th' inhabitants o'th' 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,
That you are so.

Macb. Speak, if you can ; what are you ?
I 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 I that shalt be King here

after. Ban. Good Sir, why do you start, and seem to fear Things that do found fo fair? I'th' name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or That indeed [To the Witches. Which outwardly ye shew? my noble Partner

thould file themselves the weyward, or wayward Sikers. This Word in its general Acceptation fignifies, perverse, froward, moody, obftinate, untra&table, &c. and is cvery where fo used by our Shakespeare. It is improbable, the Witches would adopc this Epithet to themselves, in any of these Seoses; and therefore we are to look a little farther for the Poct's Word and Meaning. Wierd, in the Scotch Language, lignifies a Witch, or Wizard : and therefore, in every Passage, where there is any Relation to these Witches or Wizards, my Emendation muft be embraced, and we mat xad Wäerd, os Weirdo

You

can

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

look into the Seeds of time,
And say, which Grain will grow and which will not ;
Speak then tò mé, who neither beg, nor fear,
Your favours, nor yeur hate.

1 Witch. Hail !
2 Witch. Hail !
3 Witch. Hail!
i 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 !

I Witch. Banquo and Macbeth, all-hail !

Macb. Stay, you imperfect Speakers, tell me more ; By Sinel's death, I know, I'm Thane of Glamis ; But how, of Cawdor ? the Thane of Cawdor lives. A profp'rous 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 blafted heath you ftop our way, With such prophetick Greeting? --- speak, I charge you.

Witches vanish, Ban, The earth hath bubbles, as the water has ; And these are of them : whither are they vanith'd ?

Macb. Into the air : and what seem'd corporal Melted, as breath, into the wind. ?Would they had ttaid ! Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak about? (6)

Or

(6) Were Such Things here, as we do speak about a Or have we eaten of the insane Root, That takes the Reason prisoner ? )

He&tor Boethius, who gives as an Account of Sueno's Army being intoxicared by a Preparation pur upon them by cheis fubtle Enerny, informs us ; thar there is a Plant, which grows in great Quantity in Scotland, callid Solatrum Amentiale ; that its Berries are pusple, or rathes black, when full ripes

and

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