Imatges de pÓgina
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ACT I.
SCENE I.-An open Place. Thunder and Lightning.

Enter three Witches.
I Witch. When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain ?

2 Witch. When the hurlyburly 's done, When the battle 's lost and won :

3 Witch. That will be ere the set of sun.
i Witch. Where the place?
2 Witch,

Upon the heath:
3 Witch. There to meet with Macbeth.,
i Witch. I come, Graymalkin! fiky

Cet atelier Pro mori' nior

Jornal All. Paddock calls :- Anon.

averned to the sun Fair is foul, and foul is fair : Umudia'sic Hover through the fog and filthy air.

[Witches vanish. SCENE II.-A camp near Forres. Alarum within. 79.29. Desco Enter King DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENOX, with

Attendants, meeting a bleeding Soldier. Dun. What bloody man is that? He can report,

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As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
The newest state.
Mal.

This is the sergeant,
Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought
'Gainst my captivity :-Hail, brave friend !
Say to the king the knowledge of the broil, ficat
As thou didst leave it.
Sold.

Doubtful it stood ;
med en

As two spent swimmers, that do cling together,

And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald sósent levelepwe (Worthy to be a rebel ; for, to that,

The multiplying villainies of nature
Do swarm upon him,) from the western isles

Of kernes and gallowglasses is supplied ;
liczne

And fortune, on his damned quarry smiling,
Show'd like a rebel's whore : But all's too weak;

For brave Macbeth, (well he deserves that name,)
kiu al

Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,

Which smok'd with bloody execution,
dai

Like valour's minion, carv'd out his passage,
Till he faced the slave;
Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,

Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,
Hirverae. And fix'd his head upon our battlements.

Dun. 0, valiant cousin ! worthy gentleman ! nou 4 cawan

Sold. As whence the sun 'gins his reflection

Shipwracking storms and direful thunders break;
Source So from that spring, whence comfort seem'd to come,

Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark :
No sooner justice had, with valour arm’d,
Compell’d these skipping kernes to trust their heels,
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,
With furbish'd arms, and new supplies of men,
Began a fresh assault.

Dun. Dismay'd not this our captains, Macbeth and Banquo ?
Soli. Yes: As sparrows, eagles; or the hare, the lion.

If I say sooth, I must report they were evi

As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks;
So they doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe :
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
Or memorize another Golgotha,
I cannot tell :
But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.

Dun. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;
They smack of honour both :- Go, get him surgeons.

[Exit Soldier, attendea'.

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Enter Rosse.
Who comes here?
Mal.

The worthy thane of Rosse.
Lin. What a haste looks through his eyes !
So should he look that seems to speak things strange.

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Rosse. God save the king !
Dun. Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane ?

Rosse. From Fife, great king,
Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky,
And fan our people cold.
Norway himself, with terrible numbers,
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict :
Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,
Confronted him with self-comparisons,
Point against point, rebellious arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit : And, to conclude,
The victory fell on us ;-
Dun.

Great nappiness
Rosse. That now
Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition ;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes' inch,
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
Our bosom interest :-Go, pronounce his present death,
And with his former title greet Macbeth.

Rosse. I 'll see it done.
Dun. What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.

Linto a sindi
limo
Cole, steklo
der
da acha
nistanit

[Ereunt.

SCENE III.-A Heath. Thunder.

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Enter the three Witches. i Witch. Where hast thou been, sister? 2 Witch. Killing swine. 3 Witch. Sister, where thou ?

1 Witch. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd : ‘Give me,' quoth I :
'Aroint thee, witch !' the rump-fed ronyon crics.

brin!
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger : old letomne
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. I'll give thee a wind.
1 Witch. Th' 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.

2
I'll 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 nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine :

VOL. III.

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Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd.
Look what I have.

2 Witch. Show me, show me.

i Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wrack'd, as homeward he did come.

[Drum within.
3 Witch. A drum, a drum :
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 Forres ?-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 ;-- 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 ?-l'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.

I W’itch. Hail !
2 Witch. Hail !
3 Witch. Hail :
i 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 thane of Cawdor lives

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