Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, Messala: · I thank thee, Brutus, And no man else hath honour by his death. Oct. All that serv'd Brutus, I will entertain them. Mes. How died my master, Strato? Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it. Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest service to my master. Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all: Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar; Oct. According to his virtue let us use him, Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, Attendants, and Messengers. Hecate. Three Witches. SCENE in the end of the fourth act in England; through the rest of the play in Scotland. ACT I. SCENE I. An open place. Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches. First Witch. When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain? Sec. Witch. When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won. Third Witch. That will be ere the set of sun. First Witch. Where the place? Sec. Witch. Upon the heath. There to meet with Macbeth. Third Witch. First Witch. I come, Graymalkin! Sec. Witch. Paddock calls: - anon! All. Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air. SCENE II. A camp near Forres. [Exeunt. Alarums within. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant. Dun. What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought As two spent swimmers, that do cling together The multiplying villanies of nature Do swarm upon him from the western isles Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; And fortune, on his damnèd quarrel smiling, For brave Macbeth, well he deserves that name, Carv'd out his passage till he fac'd the slave; And ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, Dun. O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels, Dun. Dismay'd not this Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? Serg. Yes; As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion. If I say sooth, I must report they were Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe: Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, I cannot tell: But I am faint, my gashes cry for help. Dun. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds; They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons. Who comes here? Mal. [Exit Sergeant, attended The worthy thane of Ross. Len. What haste looks through his eyes! So should he look That seems to speak things strange. |