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Great business must be wrought ere noon :
Upon the corner of the moon
There hangs a vaporous drop profound;
I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
And that distill'd by magic sleights
Shall raise such artificial sprites
As by the strength of their illusion
Shall draw him on to his confusion :
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear 30
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear :
And you all know security
Is mortals' chiefest enemy.
[Music and a song within : « Come away,

come away,' &C. Hark! I am call’d; my little spirit, see,

Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Exit. First Witch. Come, let's make haste; she 'll soon be back again.


Scene VI.

Forres. The palace.

Enter Lennox and another Lord.
Len. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,
Which can interpret farther : only I say


Things have been strangely borne. The gracious

Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth : marry, he was dead : And the right-valiant Banquo walk's too late ; Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd, For Fleance Aled : men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father damned fact ! How it did grieve Macbeth ! did he not straight, In pious rage, the two delinquents tear, That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too ; For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive To hear the men deny't. So that, I say, He has borne all things well: and I do think That, had he Duncan's sons under his keyA8, an't please heaven, he shall not-they should

find What 'twere to kill a father ; so should Fleance. 20 But, peace! for from broad words, and 'cause he

fail'd His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear, Macduff lives in disgrace : sir, can you

tell Where he bestows himself?


The son of Duncan,
From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
Lives in the English court, and is received
Of the most pious Edward with such grace
That the malevolence of fortune nothing
Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduff
Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid

To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward :
That by the help of these, with Him above
To ratify the work, we may again
Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights,
Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives,
Do faithful homage and receive free honours :
All which we pine for now: and this report
Hath so exasperate the king that he

Prepares for some attempt of war.

Sent he to Macduff? Lord. He did: and with an absolute • Sir, not I,'

40 The cloudy messenger turns me his back, And hums, as who should


- You'll rue the time That clogs me with this answer.' Len.

And that well might
Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance
His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel
Fly to the court of England and unfold

His message ere he come, that a swift blessing
May soon return to this our suffering country

Under a hand accursed !

I'll send my prayers with him.


Act Fourth.

Scene I.

A cavern.

In the middle, a boiling cauldron.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

First Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
Sec. Witch. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.
Third Witch. Harpier cries • 'Tis time, 'tis time.'
First Witch. Round about the cauldron go:

In the poison'd entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,

Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.
All. Double, double toil and trouble ;

Fire burn and cauldron bubble.



Sec. Witch. 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 sting,
Lizard's leg and howlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
All. Double, double toil and trouble ;

Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Third Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,

Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat and slips of yew
Sliver'd 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,

For the ingredients of our cauldron.
All. Double, double toil and trouble ;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.


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