SCENE.-Inverness-Court of Macbeth's Castle Hawes Craven.

SCENE 2.-England-a Country Lane...

SCENE 3.—Dunsinane—Ante-room in the Castle{

Enter Three Witches.

Ist Witch.

HEN shall we three meet again

In thunder, lightning, and in rain?
2nd W. When the hurlyburly's done,
When the battle's lost and won.

3rd W. That will be ere set of sun.

Ist W. Where the place?

2nd W.

Upon the heath.

3rd W. There, to meet with Macbeth.

1st W. I come, Graymalkin!

2nd W. Paddock calls.

3rd W.

Anon!

All. Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air.

HAT bloody man is that? He can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt

The newest state.

Mal.
This is the sergeant,
Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought
'Gainst my captivity.-Hail, brave friend!
Say to the king thy knowlege of the broil
As thou didst leave it.

Serg.

Doubtful it stood;

As two spent swimmers, that do cling together

And choke their art. The merciless Macdonnel

From the western isles

Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied;

But all's too weak;

For brave Macbeth-well he deserves that name-
Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,
Which smok'd with bloody execution,

Like valour's minion, carv'd out his passage,
Till he fac'd the slave.

Dun. O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!

Serg. No sooner justice had, with valour arm'd,
Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels,
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,

With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men
Began a fresh assault.

· Dun.

Dismay'd not this

Yes;

Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo ?
Serg.

As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.

But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.

Dun. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;

They smack of honor both. Go get him surgeons.

[Exit Sergeant, attended.

Enter Ross and ANGUS.

Ross. God save the king!

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

From Fife, great king;

Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky
And fan our people cold. Norway himself,
With numbers terrible,

Assisted by that most disloyal traitor

The thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict;
Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,
Confronted him with self-comparisons,
Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,

The victory fell on us ;—

Dun.

Ross.

Great happiness!

That now

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

Till he disbursèd at Saint-Colmè's Inch

Ten thousand dollars to our general use.