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, me, By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips.-You should be women, Macb. Speak, if you can :—what are you? 1 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis ! 2 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor! 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,1 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, 1 Creatures of fantasy or imagination. 2 Fortune. That he seems rapt1 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 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; No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting ?-Speak, I charge [Witches vanish. you. Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd? 1 Abstracted. 2 Sinel was the father of Macbeth. Macb. Into the air; and what seem'd corporal, melted As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd! Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak about, Or have we eaten of the insane root, That takes the reason prisoner? 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. Silenced with that, Rosse. The king hath happily received, 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. 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 tale,1 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; As fast as they could be counted. Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee. Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honor, 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 com bined With those of Norway; or did line 1 the rebel 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, Promised no less to them? Ban. That, trusted home,2 Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, Strengthen. 2 Intirely relied on. |