First Witch.
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.

Sec. Witch.
Thrice and ^note once the hedge-pig ^note whined.

Third Witch.
Harpier ^note cries ‘'Tis ^note time, 'tis time.’

First Witch.
Round about the cauldron go: ^note
In the poison'd entrails ^note throw.
Toad, that ^note under cold ^note stone
Days and nights has ^note thirty one ^note
Swelter'd venom sleeping ^note got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

All.
Double, double ^note toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Sec. Witch. ^note
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,

Adder's fork and blind-worm's ^note sting,
Lizard's leg and howlet's ^note wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

All.
Double, double ^note toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Third Witch.
Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches' ^note mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd ^note salt-sea shark ^note,
Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat and slips of yew
Sliver'd ^note in the moon's eclipse,
Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron ^note,
For the ingredients ^note of our cauldron ^note.

All.
Double, double ^note toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Sec. Witch.
Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good. Enter ^note Hecate to the other three Witches.

Hec.
O ^note, well done! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i' the gains:
  And now about the cauldron sing,

Like elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in. [Music and a song: ‘Black spirits,’ &c. ^note [Hecate retires. ^note

Sec. Witch.
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes:

  Open, locks,
  Whoever knocks! ^{note note}Enter Macbeth.

Macb.
How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!
What is't you do?

All.
A deed without a name.

Macb.
I conjure you, by that which you profess,
Howe'er you come to know it, answer me:
Though you untie the winds, and let them fight
Against the churches; though the yesty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up;
Though bladed ^note corn be lodged and trees blown down;
Though castles topple on ^note their warders' heads;
Though palaces and pyramids do slope ^note
Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
Of nature's germins ^note tumble all together ^note,
Even till destruction sicken; answer me
To what I ask you.

First Witch.
Speak.

Sec. Witch.
Demand.

Third Witch.
We'll answer.

First Witch.
Say, if thou'dst ^note rather hear it from our mouths,
Or from our masters? ^note

Macb.
Call 'em, let me see 'em ^note.

First Witch.
Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
Her nine farrow; grease ^note that's sweaten
From the murderer's gibbet throw
Into the flame.

All.
Come, high or low;
Thyself and office deftly show! Thunder. First Apparition ^note: an armed Head.

Macb.
Tell me, thou unknown power,— ^note

First Witch.
He knows thy thought:
Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

First App.
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff ^note;
Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me: enough. [Descends. ^note

Macb.
Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution thanks;
Thou hast ^note harp'd ^note my fear aright: but one word more,— ^note

First Witch.
He will not be commanded: here's another,
More potent than the first. Thunder. Second Apparition ^note: a bloody Child.

Sec. App.
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!

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

Sec. App.
Be bloody, bold and resolute; laugh to scorn ^note
The power of man, for none of woman born
Shall harm Macbeth. ^note [Descends.

Macb.
Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee?
But yet I'll make assurance double ^note 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. Thunder. Third ^note Apparition: a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand.
What is this,
That rises like the issue of a king, ^note
And wears upon his baby-brow the round
And top ^note of sovereignty?

All.
Listen, but speak not to 't.

Third App.
Be lion-mettled ^note, proud, and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
Great Birnam ^note wood to high Dunsinane ^note hill
Shall come against him. [Descends. ^note

Macb.
That will never be:
Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
Rebellion's head ^note, rise never, till the wood
Of Birnam ^note rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart ^note
Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art ^note
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, ^note
And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know:
Why ^note sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this? [Hautboys. ^note

First Witch.
Show!

Sec. Witch.
Show!

Third Witch.
Show!

All.
Show his eyes, and grieve his heart ^note;
Come like shadows, so depart! A show ^note of eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand; Banquo's Ghost following.

Macb.
Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down!
Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair ^note, ^note
Thou other gold-bound brow, is ^note like the first.
A third is like the former. Filthy hags!
Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes ^note!
What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?
Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more:
And yet the eighth ^note appears, who bears a glass
Which shows me many more; and some I see
That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry:
Horrible sight! Now ^note I see 'tis true;
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his. What, is ^note this so?

First Witch. ^note
Ay, sir, all this is so: but why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites ^note,
And show the best of our delights:
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antic ^note round,
That this great king may kindly say
Our duties did his welcome pay. ^note [Music. The Witches dance, and then vanish, with Hecate. ^note

Macb.
Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour ^note
Stand aye accursed in the calendar!
Come in, without there! Enter Lennox.

Len.
What's your grace's will?

Macb.
Saw you the weird ^note sisters ^note?

Len.
No, my lord.

Macb.
Came they not by you?

Len.
No indeed, my lord.

Macb.
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.
Fled to England!

Len.
Ay, my good lord.

Macb. [Aside ^note]
Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits:
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook
Unless the deed go with it: from this moment
The very firstlings ^note of my heart shall be

The firstlings ^note of my hand. And even now,
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it ^note thought and done:
The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate ^note souls
That trace him in ^note his line. No boasting like a fool; ^note
This deed I'll do before this purpose ^note cool:
But no more sights ^note!—Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are. [Exeunt. ^note Scene II. [Footnote: Fife. Macduff's castle. ^note Enter Lady Macduff ^note, her Son, and Ross.

L. Macd. ^note
What had he done, to make him fly the land?

Ross.
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.

Ross.
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 ^note 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.

Ross.
My dearest coz ^note,
I pray you, school yourself: but, for your husband,
He is ^note noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
The fits o' ^note the season ^note. I dare not speak much further:
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors
And do not know ^note ourselves; when we hold rumour
From what we ^note fear, yet ^note know not what we fear,
But float upon ^note a wild and violent sea
Each way and move. ^note I take my leave of you:
Shall ^note 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. ^note

Ross.
I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace and your discomfort: ^note
I take my leave at once. [Exit. ^note

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 ^note worms and flies?

Son.
With ^note what I get, I mean ^note; and so do they.

L. Macd.
Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime ^note, ^note

The pitfall nor the gin.

Son.
Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. ^note
My father is ^note not dead, for all your saying.

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

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 ^note 'em to sell again.

L. Macd.
Thou speak'st with all ^note thy wit, and yet, i' faith,
With wit enough for thee. ^{note note}

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.

Son.

And be all traitors that do so? ^note

L. Macd.

Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hang'd. ^note

Son.

And must they all be hang'd that swear and lie?

L. Macd.

Every one.

Son.

Who must hang them?

L. Macd.

Why, the ^note honest men.

Son.

Then the liars and swearers are fools; for there are liars and swearers enow ^note to beat the honest men and hang up them.

L. Macd.

Now ^note, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father? ^note

Son.

If he were dead, you'ld weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.

L. Macd. ^note
Poor prattler, how thou talk'st! Enter a Messenger.

Mess.
Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
I doubt some danger does approach you nearly:
If you will take a homely man's advice,
Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
To fright you thus, ^note methinks I am too savage;
To do worse to you ^note were fell cruelty,
Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!
I dare abide no longer. [Exit. ^note

L. Macd.
Whither ^note should I fly?
I have ^note done no harm. But I remember now
I am ^note in this earthly world, where to do harm
Is often laudable, to do good sometime
Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas,
Do I put up that womanly defence,
To say I have ^note done no harm?—What are these faces? ^note Enter Murderers.

First Mur. ^note
Where is your husband?

L. Macd.
I hope, in no place so unsanctified
Where such as thou mayst find him.

First Mur.
He's a traitor.

Son.
Thou liest, thou shag-ear'd ^note villain!

First Mur.
What, you egg! [Stabbing him. ^note
Young fry of treachery!

Son.
He has ^note kill'd me, mother:
Run away, I pray ^note you! [Dies. ^note [Exit ^note Lady Macduff, crying ‘Murder!’ Exeunt murderers, following her. ^note Scene III. [Footnote: England. Before ^note the King's palace. Enter Malcolm and Macduff.

Mal.
Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
Weep our sad bosoms empty.

Macd.
Let us rather
Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men
Bestride our down-fall'n ^note birthdom ^note: each new morn
New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out
Like syllable ^note of dolour.

Mal.
What I believe, I'll wail;
What know, believe; and what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you have loved him well;
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am ^note young; but something
You may deserve ^note of him ^note through me; and wisdom ^note
To offer ^note up a weak, poor, innocent lamb

To appease an angry god.

Macd.
I am not treacherous.

Mal.
But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil
In an imperial charge. But I shall crave ^note your pardon;
That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose:
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell:
Though all things foul would wear ^note the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look ^note so.

Macd.
I have ^note lost my hopes.

Mal.
Perchance even there where I did find my doubts. ^note
Why in that rawness left you wife and child ^note,
Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,
Without ^note leave-taking? I pray you ^note,
Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just,
Whatever I shall think.

Macd.
Bleed, bleed, poor country:
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dare ^note not check thee: wear thou thy wrongs;
The ^note title is affeer'd ^note. Fare ^note thee well, lord:
I would not be the villain that thou think'st ^note
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp
And the rich East to boot.

Mal.
Be not offended:
I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;
It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds: I think withal

There would be hands uplifted in my right;
And here from gracious England have I offer
Of ^note goodly thousands: but ^note for all this,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before,
More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed.

Macd.
What should he be?

Mal.
It is myself I mean: in whom I know
All the particulars of vice so grafted
That, when they shall be open'd ^note, black Macbeth
Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state
Esteem him as a lamb, being compared
With my confineless harms.

Macd.
Not in the legions
Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd
In evils ^note to top Macbeth.

Mal. ^note
I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious, smacking ^note of every ^note sin
That has a name: but there's no bottom, none,
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up
The cistern ^note of my lust, and my desire
All continent impediments would o'erbear,
That did oppose my will: better Macbeth
Than such an ^note one to reign.

Macd.
Boundless ^note intemperance
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
The untimely emptying of the happy throne,
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours: you may

Convey ^note your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink: ^note
We have ^note willing dames enough; there cannot be
That vulture in you, to devour so many
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so inclined.

Mal.
With this there grows
In my most ill-composed affection such
A stanchless avarice that, were I king,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands,
Desire his jewels and this other's house:
And my more-having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more, that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal ^note,
Destroying them for wealth.

Macd.
This avarice
Sticks ^note deeper, grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeming ^note lust, and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foisons ^note to fill up your will
Of your mere own: all these are portable ^note,
With other graces weigh'd.

Mal.
But I have none: the king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them, but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell ^note,

Uproar ^note the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.

Macd.
O Scotland, Scotland!

Mal.
If such a one be fit to govern, speak:
I am as I have spoken.

Macd.
Fit to govern!
No, not to live. O nation miserable! ^note
With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accursed ^note,
And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee,
Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,
Died every day she lived ^note. Fare ^note thee well!
These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself
Have ^note banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,
Thy hope ends here!

Mal.
Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts
To thy ^note good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
By many of these trains hath sought to win me
Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous haste. but God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now
I put myself to thy direction, and
Unspeak mine own detraction ^note; here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman ^note, never was forsworn ^note,
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,

At no time broke my faith, would not betray
The devil to his fellow, and delight
No less in truth than life: my first false speaking
Was this upon myself: what I am truly,
Is thine and my poor country's to command:
Whither ^note indeed, before thy ^note here-approach ^note,
Old Siward ^note, with ten thousand warlike men,
Already ^note at a point ^note, was setting forth. ^note
Now we'll together, and the chance of goodness ^note
Be like ^note our warranted ^note quarrel! Why are you silent?

Macd.
Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
'Tis hard to reconcile. ^noteEnter a Doctor.

Mal.
Well, more anon. Comes the king forth, I pray you? ^note

Doct.
Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls
That stay his cure: their malady convinces ^note
The great assay of art; but at his touch,
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand,
They presently amend.

Mal.
I thank you, doctor. [Exit Doctor. ^note

Macd.
What's the disease he means?

Mal.
'Tis call'd the evil:
A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which often, since my here-remain ^note in England,

I have ^note seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited ^note people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction. With this strange virtue
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,
And sundry blessings hang about his throne
That speak him full of grace. ^noteEnter Ross.

Macd.
See, who comes here?

Mal.
My countryman; but yet I know him not.

Macd.
My ever gentle cousin, welcome hither.

Mal.
I know him now: good God, betimes ^note remove
The means ^note that makes ^note us strangers!

Ross.
Sir, amen.

Macd.
Stands Scotland where it did?

Ross.
Alas, poor country!
Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where nothing ^note,
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend ^note the air,
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
A modern ecstasy: the dead man's ^note knell
Is there scarce ask'd for who; ^note and good men's lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps,
Dying ^note or ere ^note they sicken.

Macd.
O, relation ^note

Too nice, and yet too true ^note! ^note

Mal.
What's ^note the newest ^note grief?

Ross.
That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker;
Each minute teems a new one.

Macd.
How does my wife?

Ross.
Why, well.

Macd.
And all my children?

Ross.
Well too.

Macd.
The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?

Ross.
No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.

Macd.
Be not a niggard of your speech: how goes 't ^note?

Ross.
When I came hither to transport the tidings,
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
Of many worthy fellows that were out;
Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot:
Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
Would create soldiers, make our women ^note fight,
To doff their dire distresses.

Mal.
Be't their comfort
We are ^note coming thither: gracious England hath
Lent us good Siward ^note and ten thousand men;
An older and a better soldier none
That Christendom gives out.

Ross.
Would I could answer
This comfort with the like! But I have words
That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
Where hearing should not latch ^note them.

Macd.
What concern they?
The general cause? ^note or is it a fee-grief

Due to some single breast?

Ross.
No mind that's honest
But in it shares some woe, though the main part
Pertains to you alone.

Macd.
If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

Ross.
Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
That ever yet they heard.

Macd.
Hum ^note! I guess at it.

Ross.
Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes
Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,
Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
To add the death of you.

Mal.
Merciful heaven!
What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.

Macd.
My children too?

Ross.
Wife, children, servants, all
That could be found.

Macd.
And I must be from thence!
My wife kill'd too? ^note

Ross.
I have ^note said.

Mal.
Be comforted:
Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.

Macd.
He has ^note no children. All ^note my pretty ones?
Did you say all? ^note O hell-kite! ^note All? ^note
What, all my pretty chickens and their dam
At one fell swoop? ^note

Mal.
Dispute ^note it like a man.

Macd.
I shall do so ^note;
But I must also feel it as a man:
I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,
And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
They were all struck ^note for thee! naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls: heaven rest them now!

Mal.
Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
Convert to anger ^note; blunt not the heart, enrage it.

Macd.
O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens ^note,
Cut short all intermission; front to front
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; ^note
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Heaven ^note forgive him too!

Mal.
This tune ^note goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may;
The night is long that never finds the day. [Exeunt.

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