Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:
But in a sieve I'll thither sail^{4 note}

And, like a rat without a tail^{5 note}

2 Witch.
I'll give thee a wind^{7 note}

1 Witch.
Thou art kind.

3 Witch.
And I another.

1 Witch.
I myself have all the other;
And the very ports they blow^{8 note}

I' the shipman's card^{9 note}

Weary sev'n-nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle^{4 note}

Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd^{5 note}
.
Look what I have.

2 Witch.
Show me, show me.

1 Witch.
Here I have a pilot's thumb,
Wreck'd, as homeward he did come. [Drum within.

3 Witch.
A drum, a drum;
Macbeth doth come.

All.
The weird sisters, hand in hand^{6 note}

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.

Macb.
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Ban.
How far is't call'd to Fores^{7 note}

Macb.
Speak, if you can;—What are you?

1 Witch.
All hail, Macbeth^{2 note}

2 Witch.
All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor^{4 note}!

3 Witch.
All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.

Ban.
Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair?—I' the name of truth,
Are ye fantastical^{5 note}

Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace, and great prediction
Of noble having^{6 note}

1 Witch.
Hail!

2 Witch.
Hail!

3 Witch.
Hail!

1 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!

1 Witch.
Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail!

Macb.
Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
By Sinel's death^{8 note}

Ban.
The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
And these are of them:—Whither are they vanish'd?

Macb.
Into the air; and what seem'd corporal, melted
As breath into the wind.—'Would they had staid!

Ban.
Were such things here, as we do speak about?

Or have we eaten of the insane root^{1 note}

Macb.
Your children shall be kings.

Ban.
You shall be king.

Macb.
And thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?

Ban.
To the self-same tune, and words. Who's here? Enter Rosse and Angus.

Rosse.
The king hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,
The news of thy success: and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine, or his: Silenc'd with that^{2 note}

Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
And pour'd them down before him.

Ang.
We are sent,
To give thee, from our royal master, thanks;
Only to herald thee^{4 note} into his sight,
Not pay thee.

Rosse.
And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:
In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
For it is thine.

Ban.
What, can the devil speak true?

Macb.
The thane of Cawdor lives; Why do you dress me
In borrow'd robes?

Ang.
Who was the thane, lives yet;

But under heavy judgment bears that life
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin'd
With those of Norway^{5 note}

Macb.
Glamis, and thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behind.—Thanks for your pains.—
Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no less to them?

Ban.
That, trusted home^{6 note}

Might yet enkindle you^{7 note}

Macb.
Two truths are told^{8 note}

As happy prologues to the swelling act^{9 note}


Of the imperial theme.—I thank you, gentlemen.—

This supernatural soliciting^{1 note}

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man^{5 note}

Ban.
Look, how our partner's rapt.

Macb.
If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
Without my stir.

Ban.
New honours come upon him
Like our strange garments; cleave not to their mould,
But with the aid of use.

Macb.
Come what come may;
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day^{7 note}

Ban.
Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure^{8 note}.

Macb.
Give me your favour^{9 note}:—my dull brain was wrought
With things forgotten^{1 note}

Ban.
Very gladly.

Macb.
Till then, enough.—Come, friends. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Fores. A Room in the Palace. Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, and Attendants.

Dun.
Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not^{4 note}
Those in commission yet return'd?

Mal.
My liege,
They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die^{5 note}: who did report,
That very frankly he confess'd his treasons;
Implor'd your highness' pardon; and set forth
A deep repentance: nothing in his life
Became him, like the leaving it; he died
As one that had been studied in his death^{6 note}

Dun.

There's no art,
To find the mind's construction in the face^{7 note}

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.
The sin of my ingratitude even now
Was heavy on me: Thou art so far before,
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
To overtake thee. 'Would thou hadst less deserv'd;
That the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
More is thy due than more than all can pay^{8 note}

Macb.
The service and the loyalty I owe,
In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
Is to receive our duties: and our duties
Are to your throne and state, children, and servants;
Which do but what they should, by doing every thing^{9 note}

Safe toward your love and honour^{1 note}

Dun.
Welcome hither:
I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing^{2 note}
.—Noble Banquo,
That hast no less deserv'd, nor must be known
No less to have done so, let me infold thee,
And hold thee to my heart.

Ban.
There if I grow,
The harvest is your own.

Dun.
My plenteous joys,
Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
In drops of sorrow^{3 note}

And you whose places are the nearest, know,
We will establish our estate upon
Our eldest, Malcolm; whom we name hereafter,
The prince of Cumberland: which honour must
Not, unaccompanied, invest him only,
But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
On all deservers.—From hence to Inverness^{4 note}

Macb.
The rest is labour, which is not us'd for you:
I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful
The hearing of my wife with your approach;
So, humbly take my leave.

Dun.
My worthy Cawdor!

Macb.
The prince of Cumberland^{5 note}

On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap, [Aside.
For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires!
Let not light see my black and deep desires:

The eye wink at the hand! yet let that be,
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. [Exit.

Dun.
True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant^{6 note};
And in his commendations I am fed;
It is a banquet to me. Let us after him,
Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:
It is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE V. Inverness. A Room in Macbeth's Castle. Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter.

Lady M.

They met me in the day of success; and I have learned by the perfectest report^{7 note}, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves—air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the king^{8 note}
, who all-hailed me, Thane of Cawdor; by which title, before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of time, with, Hail, king that shalt be! This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness; that thou mightest not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell.

That which cries, Thus thou must do, if thou have it;
And that which rather thou dost fear to do^{1 note}

Enter an Attendant.

Atten.
The king comes here to-night.

Lady M.
Thou'rt mad to say it:
Is not thy master with him? who, wer't so,
Would have inform'd for preparation.

Atten.
So please you, it is true; our thane is coming:
One of my fellows had the speed of him;
Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
Than would make up his message.

Lady M.
Give him tending,
He brings great news. The raven himself is hoarse^{3 note}

And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse^{6 note}

And take my milk for gall^{8 note}, you murd'ring ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature's mischief^{9 note}! Come, thick night^{1 note}





,

And pall thee^{2 note}

To cry, Hold, hold^{5 note}

Enter Macbeth.
Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!
Thy letters have transported me beyond
This ignorant present^{7 note}

Macb.
My dearest love,
Duncan comes here to-night.

Lady M.
And when goes hence?

Macb.
To-morrow,—as he purposes.

Lady M.
O, never
Shall sun that morrow see!
Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men
May read strange matters^{8 note}

Macb.
We will speak further.

Lady M.
Only look up clear;
To alter favour ever is to fear^{2 note}