« ZurückWeiter »
Our bosom interest :-Go, pronounce his death,
And with his former title greet Macbeth.
Rosse. I'll see it done.
Dun. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won.
[Exeunt. SCENE III. A Heath.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches. 1 Witch. Where hast thou been, sister? 2 Witch. Killing swine. 3 Witch. Sister, where thon?
1 Witch. A sailor's wife had chesnuts in her lap, And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch’d:
Give me, quoth I:
Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyon cries.
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o'the Tiger:
But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
And, like a rat without a tail,
I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.
2 Witch. l'll give thee a wind.
1 Witch. Thou art kind.
3 Witch. And I another.
1 Witch. I myself have all the other;
And the very ports they blow,
All the quarters that they know
I'the shipman's card.
I will drain him dry as hay:
Sleep shall, neither night nor day,
Hang upon his pent-house lid;
He shall live a man forbid :
Weary sev'n nights, nine times nino,
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine;
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd.
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 dram; Macbeth doth come
All. The weird sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land,
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 ?-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 question? You seem to understand me, By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips :—You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so.
Macb. Speak, if you can ;-Wbat are you? 1 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis !
2 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of
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, or that indeed
Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace, and great prediction
Of noble having, and of royal hope,
That he seems rapt withal; 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!
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, I know, I am thane of Glamis!
But how of Cawdor? the tbane 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 heath you stop our way
With such prophetic greeting?-Speak, I charge you,
Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water bas,
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 bave we eaten of the insane root,
That takes the reason prisoner?
Macb. Your children shall be kings.
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,
In viewing o'er the rest o'the self-same day,
He finds thee in the stoat Norweyan ranks,
Nothing aseard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as tale,
Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
And pour'd them down before bim.
We are sent,
To give thee, from our royal master, thanks ;
To herald thee into bis sight, not pay thee.
Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
He bade mne, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor :
In which addition hail, most worthy thane !
For it is tbine.
Ban. What, can the devil speak true?
Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives; Why do you dress 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 Norway; 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: Bnt treasons capital, confess’d, and provid, Have overthrown him. Macb.
Glamis, the thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behind.-Thanks for your pains.-
Do you not bope your children shall
When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no less to them?
That, trusted home,
Might yet enkindle you 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.
Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen.--
This supernatural soliciting
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 suggestion
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings :
My thought, whose murder yel is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man, that function
Is smother'd in surmise; and nothing is,
But what is not.
Look, how our partner's rapt.
Macb. If chance will have me king, why, chance
Without my stir.
(may crown me, Вап. .
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.
Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay, upon your leisure. Macb. Give me your favour :--my dall brain was
wrought With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains Are register'd where every day I turn The leaf to read them.—Let us toward the king.-Think upon what hath chanc'd : and, at more time, The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other. 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
Those in commission yet return’d?
They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die: 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,
To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,
As 'twere a careless trifle.
There's no art,