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Macbeth (Folio 1, 1623)

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Anthony Dawson
Not Peer Reviewed
132
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
90King. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceiue
Our Bosome interest: Goe pronounce his present death,
And with his former Title greet Macbeth.
Rosse. Ile see it done.
King. What he hath lost, Noble Macbeth hath wonne.
95
Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.


Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1. Where hast thou beene, Sister?
2. Killing Swine.
1003. Sister, where thou?
1. A Saylors Wife had Chestnuts in her Lappe,
And mouncht, & mouncht, and mouncht:
Giue me, quoth I.
Aroynt thee, Witch, the rumpe-fed Ronyon cryes.
105Her Husband's to Aleppo gone, Master o'th' Tiger:
But in a Syue Ile thither sayle,
And like a Rat without a tayle,
Ile doe, Ile doe, and Ile doe.
2. Ile giue thee a Winde.
1101. Th'art kinde.
3. And I another.
1. I my selfe haue all the other,
And the very Ports they blow,
All the Quarters that they know,
115I'th' Ship-mans Card.
Ile dreyne him drie as Hay:
Sleepe shall neyther Night nor Day
Hang vpon his Pent-house Lid:
He shall liue a man forbid:
120Wearie Seu'nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peake, and pine:
Though his Barke cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be Tempest-tost.
Looke what I haue.
1252. Shew me, shew me.
1. Here I haue a Pilots Thumbe,
Wrackt, as homeward he did come.
Drum within.
3. A Drumme, a Drumme:
Macbeth doth come.
130All. The weyward Sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the Sea and Land,
Thus doe goe, about, about,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice againe, to make vp nine.
135Peace, the Charme's wound vp.
Enter Macbeth and Banquo.
Macb. So foule and faire a day I haue not seene.
Banquo. How farre is't call'd to Soris? What are these,
So wither'd, and so wilde in their attyre,
140That looke not like th' Inhabitants o'th' Earth,
And yet are on't? Liue you, or are you aught
That man may question? you seeme to vnderstand me,
By each at once her choppie finger laying
Vpon her skinnie Lips: you should be Women,
145And yet your Beards forbid me to interprete
That you are so.
Mac. Speake if you can: what are you?
1. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Glamis.
2. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Cawdor.
1503. All haile Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter.
Banq. Good Sir, why doe you start, and seeme to feare
Things that doe sound so faire? i'th' name of truth
Are ye fantasticall, or that indeed
Which outwardly ye shew? My Noble Partner
155You greet with present Grace, and great prediction
Of Noble hauing, and of Royall hope,
That he seemes wrapt withall: to me you speake not.
If you can looke into the Seedes of Time,
And say, which Graine will grow, and which will not,
160Speake then to me, who neyther begge, nor feare
Your fauors, nor your hate.
1. Hayle.
2. Hayle.
3. Hayle.
1651. Lesser then Macbeth, and greater.
2. Not so happy, yet much happyer.
3. Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none:
So all haile Macbeth, and Banquo.
1. Banquo, and Macbeth, all haile.
170Macb. Stay you imperfect Speakers, tell me more:
By Sinells death, I know I am Thane of Glamis,
But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor liues
A prosperous Gentleman: And to be King,
Stands not within the prospect of beleefe,
175No more then to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this strange Intelligence, or why
Vpon this blasted Heath you stop our way
With such Prophetique greeting?
Speake, I charge you.
Witches vanish.
180Banq. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water ha's,
And these are of them: whither are they vanish'd?
Macb. Into the Ayre: and what seem'd corporall,
Melted, as breath into the Winde.
Would they had stay'd.
185Banq. Were such things here, as we doe speake about?
Or haue we eaten on the insane Root,
That takes the Reason Prisoner?
Macb. Your Children shall be Kings.
Banq. You shall be King.
190Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?
Banq. Toth' selfe-same tune and words: who's here?

Enter Rosse and Angus.

Rosse. The King hath happily receiu'd, Macbeth,
The newes of thy successe: and when he reades
195Thy personall Venture in the Rebels sight,
His Wonders and his Prayses doe contend,
Which should be thine, or his: silenc'd with that,
In viewing o're the rest o'th' selfe-same day,
He findes thee in the stout Norweyan Rankes,
200Nothing afeard of what thy selfe didst make
Strange Images of death, as thick as Tale
Can post with post, and euery one did beare
Thy prayses in his Kingdomes great defence,
And powr'd them downe before him.
205Ang. Wee are sent,
To giue thee from our Royall Master thanks,
Onely to harrold thee into his sight,
Not pay thee.
Rosse. And for an earnest of a greater Honor,
210He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:
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