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Discomfort swell'd. Mark, King of Scotland, mark;
King. Dismay'd not this
King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds :
Enter Roffe and Angus.
Mal. The worthy Thane of Rote.
Len. What hafte looks through his eyes
Rolle. God save the King !
Rojje. From Fife, great King,
I must report they were
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
King. Great happiness !
King. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive
Rolle. I'll see it done.
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
Confronted him with self-comparisons,
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 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,
Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyon cries.
2 Witch. I'll give thee a wind.
i Witch. I my self have all the other,
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,
Posters of the sea and land,
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,
You should be women
Macb. Speak, if you can ; what are you ?
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 greet with present grace, and great prediction
look into the Seeds of time,
1 Witch. Hail !
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)
(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