Macbeth (Including The Biography of the Infamous Author) - William Shakespeare

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so should Fleance.

       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?

       LORD.

       The son of Duncan,

       From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,

       Lives in the English court and is receiv’d

       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.

       LENNOX.

       Sent he to Macduff?

       LORD.

       He did: and with an absolute “Sir, not I,”

       The cloudy messenger turns me his back,

       And hums, as who should say, “You’ll rue the time

       That clogs me with this answer.”

       LENNOX.

       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 accurs’d!

       LORD.

       I’ll send my prayers with him.

       [Exeunt.]

       Table of Contents

      SCENE I. A dark Cave. In the middle, a Caldron Boiling.

       [Thunder. Enter the three Witches.]

       FIRST WITCH.

       Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.

       SECOND WITCH.

       Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin’d.

       THIRD WITCH.

       Harpier cries:—“tis time, ‘tis time.

       FIRST WITCH.

       Round about the caldron 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 caldron, bubble.

       SECOND WITCH.

       Fillet of a fenny snake,

       In the caldron 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 caldron, bubble.

       THIRD WITCH.

       Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,

       Witch’s 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-strangl’d babe

       Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,—

       Make the gruel thick and slab:

       Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,

       For the ingredients of our caldron.

       ALL.

       Double, double, toil and trouble;

       Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.

       SECOND WITCH.

       Cool it with a baboon’s blood,

       Then the charm is firm and good.

       [Enter Hecate.]

       HECATE.

       O, well done! I commend your pains;

       And everyone shall share i’ the gains.

       And now about the cauldron sing,

       Like elves and fairies in a ring,

       Enchanting all that you put in.

       Song.

       Black spirits and white, red spirits and gray;

       Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may.

       [Exit Hecate.]

       SECOND WITCH.

       By the pricking of my thumbs,

       Something wicked this way comes:—

       Open, locks, whoever knocks!

       [Enter Macbeth.]

       MACBETH.

       How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!

       What is’t you do?

       ALL.

       A deed without a name.

       MACBETH.

       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 corn be lodg’d, and trees blown down;

       Though castles topple on their warders’ heads;

       Though palaces and pyramids do slope

       Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure

       Of nature’s germins tumble all together,

       Even till destruction sicken,—answer me

       To what I ask you.

       FIRST WITCH.

       Speak.

       SECOND WITCH.

       Demand.

      

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