3 Wee'l answer

1 Say, if th'hadst rather heare it from our mouthes, Or from our Masters

Macb. Call 'em: let me see 'em

1 Powre in Sowes blood, that hath eaten Her nine Farrow: Greaze that's sweaten From the Murderers Gibbet, throw Into the Flame All. Come high or low: Thy Selfe and Office deaftly show.

Thunder. 1. Apparation, an Armed Head.

Macb. Tell me, thou vnknowne power

1 He knowes thy thought: Heare his speech, but say thou nought

1 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth: Beware Macduffe, Beware the Thane of Fife: dismisse me. Enough.

He Descends.

Macb. What ere thou art, for thy good caution, thanks Thou hast harp'd my feare aright. But one word more 1 He will not be commanded: heere's another More potent then the first.

Thunder. 2 Apparition, a b.l.o.o.d.y Childe.

2 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth

Macb. Had I three eares, Il'd heare thee

Appar. Be b.l.o.o.d.y, bold, & resolute: Laugh to scorne The powre of man: For none of woman borne Shall harme Macbeth.

Descends.

Mac. Then liue Macduffe: what need I feare of thee?

But yet Ile make a.s.surance: double sure, And take a Bond of Fate: thou shalt not liue, That I may tell pale-hearted Feare, it lies; And sleepe in spight of Thunder.

Thunder 3 Apparation, a Childe Crowned, with a Tree in his hand.

What is this, that rises like the issue of a King, And weares vpon his Baby-brow, the round And top of Soueraignty?

All. Listen, but speake not too't 3 Appar. Be Lyon metled, proud, and take no care: Who chafes, who frets, or where Conspirers are: Macbeth shall neuer vanquish'd be, vntill Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunsmane Hill Shall come against him.

Descend.

Macb. That will neuer bee: Who can impresse the Forrest, bid the Tree Vnfixe his earth-bound Root? Sweet boadments, good: Rebellious dead, rise neuer till the Wood Of Byrnan rise, and our high plac'd Macbeth Shall liue the Lease of Nature, pay his breath To time, and mortall Custome. Yet my Hart Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, if your Art Can tell so much: Shall Banquo's issue euer Reigne in this Kingdome?

All. Seeke to know no more Macb. I will be satisfied. Deny me this, And an eternall Curse fall on you: Let me know.

Why sinkes that Caldron? & what noise is this?

Hoboyes

1 Shew

2 Shew

3 Shew

All. Shew his Eyes, and greeue his Hart, Come like shadowes, so depart.

A shew of eight Kings, and Banquo last, with a gla.s.se in his hand.

Macb. Thou art too like the Spirit of Banquo: Down: Thy Crowne do's seare mine Eye-bals. And thy haire Thou other Gold-bound-brow, is like the first: A third, is like the former. Filthy Hagges, Why do you shew me this? - A fourth? Start eyes!

What will the Line stretch out to'th' cracke of Doome?

Another yet? A seauenth? Ile see no more: And yet the eighth appeares, who beares a gla.s.se, Which shewes me many more: and some I see, That two-fold Balles, and trebble Scepters carry.

Horrible sight: Now I see 'tis true, For the Blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles vpon me, And points at them for his. What? is this so?

1 I Sir, all this is so. But why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?

Come Sisters, cheere we vp his sprights, And shew the best of our delights.

Ile Charme the Ayre to giue a sound, While you performe your Antique round: That this great King may kindly say, Our duties, did his welcome pay.

Musicke. The Witches Dance, and vanish.

Macb. Where are they? Gone?

Let this pernitious houre, Stand aye accursed in the Kalender.

Come in, without there.

Enter Lenox.

Lenox. What's your Graces will

Macb. Saw you the Weyard Sisters?

Lenox. No my Lord Macb. Came they not by you?

Lenox. No indeed my Lord Macb. Infected be the Ayre whereon they ride, And d.a.m.n'd all those that trust them. I did heare The gallopping of Horse. Who was't came by?

Len. 'Tis two or three my Lord, that bring you word: Macduff is fled to England Macb. Fled to England?

Len. I, my good Lord Macb. Time, thou antic.i.p.at'st my dread exploits: The flighty purpose neuer is o're-tooke Vnlesse the deed go with it. From this moment, The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And euen now To Crown my thoughts with Acts: be it thoght & done: The Castle of Macduff, I will surprize.

Seize vpon Fife; giue to th' edge o'th' Sword His Wife, his Babes, and all vnfortunate Soules That trace him in his Line. No boasting like a Foole, This deed Ile do, before this purpose coole, But no more sights. Where are these Gentlemen?

Come bring me where they are.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Rosse.

Wife. What had he done, to make him fly the Land?

Rosse. You must haue patience Madam Wife. He had none: His flight was madnesse: when our Actions do not, Our feares do make vs Traitors Rosse. You know not Whether it was his wisedome, or his feare Wife. Wisedom? to leaue his wife, to leaue his Babes, His Mansion, and his t.i.tles, in a place From whence himselfe do's flye? He loues vs not, He wants the naturall touch. For the poore Wren (The most diminitiue of Birds) will fight, Her yong ones in her Nest, against the Owle: All is the Feare, and nothing is the Loue; As little is the Wisedome, where the flight So runnes against all reason Rosse. My deerest Cooz, I pray you schoole your selfe. But for your Husband, He is n.o.ble, Wise, Iudicious, and best knowes The fits o'th' Season. I dare not speake much further, But cruell are the times, when we are Traitors And do not know our selues: when we hold Rumor From what we feare, yet know not what we feare, But floate vpon a wilde and violent Sea Each way, and moue. I take my leaue of you: Shall not be long but Ile be heere againe: Things at the worst will cease, or else climbe vpward, To what they were before. My pretty Cosine, Blessing vpon you Wife. Father'd he is, And yet hee's Father-lesse Rosse. I am so much a Foole, should I stay longer It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort.

I take my leaue at once.

Exit Rosse.

Wife. Sirra, your Fathers dead, And what will you do now? How will you liue?

Son. As Birds do Mother Wife. What with Wormes, and Flyes?

Son. With what I get I meane, and so do they Wife. Poore Bird, Thou'dst neuer Feare the Net, nor Lime, The Pitfall, nor the Gin Son. Why should I Mother?

Poore Birds they are not set for: My Father is not dead for all your saying Wife. Yes, he is dead: How wilt thou do for a Father?

Son. Nay how will you do for a Husband?

Wife. Why I can buy me twenty at any Market Son. Then you'l by 'em to sell againe

Wife. Thou speak'st withall thy wit, And yet I'faith with wit enough for thee Son. Was my Father a Traitor, Mother?

Wife. I, that he was Son. What is a Traitor?

Wife. Why one that sweares, and lyes Son. And be all Traitors, that do so

Wife. Euery one that do's so, is a Traitor, And must be hang'd Son. And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lye?

Wife. Euery one Son. Who must hang them?

Wife. Why, the honest men Son. Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there are Lyars and Swearers enow, to beate the honest men, and hang vp them

Wife. Now G.o.d helpe thee, poore Monkie: But how wilt thou do for a Father? Son. If he were dead, youl'd weepe for him: if you would not, it were a good signe, that I should quickely haue a new Father

Wife. Poore pratler, how thou talk'st?

Enter a Messenger.