Macb. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution

thanks;

Thou hast harp'd' my fear aright:- But one word

1 Witch. He will not be commanded: Here's

another,

More potent than the first.

Thunder. An Apparition of a bloody Child rises.

App.

Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!

Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee.

App. Be bloody, bold, And resolute: laugh to scorn the power of man, For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth.

[Descends. Mach. Then live, Macduff: What need I fear of

thee?

But yet I'll make assurance double sure,
And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live!
That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lies,
And sleep in spite of thunder.- What is this,

Thunder. An Apparition of a Child crowned, with a Tree in his Hand, rises.

That rises like the issue of a king;

And wears upon his baby brow the round

And top of sovereignty?

All.

Listen, but speak not.

App. Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until

Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him.

[Descends.

That will never be ;

Macb.
Who can impress the forest: bid the tree

1 Touched on a passion as a harper touches a string.

Unfix his earth-bound root? sweet bodements?

good!

Rebellious head, rise never, till the wood

Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time, and mortal custom. Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, (if your art
Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?

All.
Seek to know no more.
Macb. I will be satisfied: deny me this,
And an eternal curse fall on you; Let me know:-
Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?
[Hautboys.
1 Witch. Show! 2 Witch. Show! 3 Witch. Show!
All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
Come like shadows, so depart.

Eight Kings appear, and pass over the stage in order; the last with a Glass in his Hand; BANQUO following.

Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down!

Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls: :- And thy

hair,

Thou other gold-round brow, is like the first :--A third is like the former :- Filthy hags!

Why do you show me this? - A fourth? - Start,

eyes!

What will the line stretch out to the crack of

doom?

Another yet?-A seventh? -I'll see no more:
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
Which shows me many more; and some I see,
That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry:
Horrible sight! Ay, now, I see, 'tis true;

For the blood-bolter'd2 Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his. What, is this so?
1 Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so: But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?

Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights,
And show the best of our delights;
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antique round:
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.

[Music. The Witches dance, and vanish. Macb. Where are they? gone?-Let this pernicious hour

Stand aye accursed in the calendar!

Come in, without there!

Mach. Infected be the air whereon they ride; And damn'd, all those that trust them!-I did hear The galloping of horse: Who was't came by? Len. "Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word,

Macduff is fled to England.

Macb.

Len. Ay, my good lord.

Fled to England?

Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread ex

ploits :

The flighty purpose never is o'ertook,

Unless the deed go with it: From this moment,
The very firstlings of my heart shall be

2 Besmeared with blood.

3. Preventest, by taking away the opportunity.

The firstlings of my hand. And even now

To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and

done;

The castle of Macduff I will surprize;

Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o'the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace his line. No boasting like a fool;
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool:

But no more sights!- Where are these gentlemen ?
Come, bring me where they are.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Fife. A Room in Macduff's Castle.

Enter Lady MACDUFF, her Son, and Rosse.

L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the

land?

Rosse. You must have patience, madam.

L. Macd.

He had none :

His flight was madness: When our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.

Rosse.

You know not,

Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.

L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,

His mansion, and his titles, in a place

From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All is the fear, and nothing is the love;
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason.

Rosse.

My dearest coz',

I pray you, school yourself: But, for your husband, He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows

The fits o'the season. I dare not speak much further:
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,
And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear;
But float upon a wild and violent sea,

Each way, and move.—I take my leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be here again:

Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward

To what they were before. - My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!

L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort:
I take my leave at once.
[Exit RossE.
L. Macd.
Sirrah, your father's dead;
And what will you do now? How will you live?
Son. As birds do, mother.

L. Macd.

What, with worms and flies? Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. L. Macd. Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the net, nor line,

The pit-fall, nor the gin.

Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.

My father is not dead, for all your saying.

L. Macd. Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband? L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.

Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet i'faith,

With wit enough for thee.

Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?
L. Macd. Ay, that he was.

Son. What is a traitor?

L.Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.