?—What are these,
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire;
That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught
That man may question8note? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips:—You should be women9note,
And yet your beards1note
2 Witch.
All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor4note!
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 fantastical5note
, or that indeed
-- 40 --
Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace, and great prediction
Of noble having6note
, and of royal hope,
That he seems rapt withal7note
; to me you speak not:
If you can look into the seeds of time,
And say, which grain will grow, and which will not;
Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear,
Your favours, nor your hate.
1 Witch.
Hail!
2 Witch.
Hail!
3 Witch.
Hail!
-- 41 --
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 death8note
, I know, I am thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
A prosperous 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 blasted heath9note
you stop 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 vanish'd?
Macb.
Into the air; and what seem'd corporal, melted
As breath into the wind.—'Would they had staid!
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 that2note
,
In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as tale3note
,
-- 44 --
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 thee4note 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;
-- 45 --
But under heavy judgment bears that life
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin'd
With those of Norway5note
; or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage; or that with both
He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
But treasons capital, confess'd, and prov'd,
Have overthrown him.
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?
unto the crown,
Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths;
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us
In deepest consequence.—
Cousins, a word, I pray you.
Cannot be ill; cannot be good:—If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion2note
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair3note
heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings5note
:
-- 49 --
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man5note
, that function
Is smother'd in surmise; and nothing is,
But what is not6note
.
-- 50 --
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 day7note
.
-- 51 --
Ban.
Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure8note.
Macb.
Give me your favour9note:—my dull brain was wrought
With things forgotten1note
. Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are register'd where every day I turn
The leaf to read them2note
.—Let us toward the king.—
Think upon what hath chanc'd; and, at more time,
The interim having weigh'd it3note
