Witches vanish.

Banq. 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

Banq. 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

Macb. 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 Thy 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, Nothing 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

Ang. 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, He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor: In which addition, haile most worthy Thane, For it is thine

Banq. What, can the Deuill speake true? Macb. The Thane of Cawdor liues: Why doe you dresse me in borrowed Robes? Ang. Who was the Thane, liues yet, But vnder heauie Iudgement beares that Life, Which he deserues to loose. Whether he was combin'd with those of Norway, Or did lyne the Rebell with hidden helpe, And vantage; or that with both he labour'd In his Countreyes wracke, I know not: But Treasons Capitall, confess'd, and prou'd, Haue ouerthrowne him

Macb. Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor: The greatest is behinde. Thankes for your paines. Doe you not hope your Children shall be Kings, When those that gaue the Thane of Cawdor to me, Promis'd no lesse to them

Banq. That trusted home, Might yet enkindle you vnto the Crowne, Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange: And oftentimes, to winne vs to our harme, The Instruments of Darknesse tell vs Truths, Winne vs with honest Trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence. Cousins, a word, I pray you

Macb. Two Truths are told, As happy Prologues to the swelling Act Of the Imperiall Theame. I thanke you Gentlemen: This supernaturall solliciting Cannot be ill; cannot be good. If ill? why hath it giuen me earnest of successe, Commencing in a Truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. If good? why doe I yeeld to that suggestion, Whose horrid Image doth vnfixe my Heire, And make my seated Heart knock at my Ribbes, Against the vse of Nature? Present Feares Are lesse then horrible Imaginings: My Thought, whose Murther yet is but fantasticall, Shakes so my single state of Man, That Function is smother'd in surmise, And nothing is, but what is not

Banq. Looke how our Partner's rapt

Macb. If Chance will haue me King, Why Chance may Crowne me, Without my stirre

Banq. New Honors come vpon him Like our strange Garments, cleaue not to their mould, But with the aid of vse

Macb. Come what come may, Time, and the Houre, runs through the roughest Day

Banq. Worthy Macbeth, wee stay vpon your leysure

Macb. Giue me your fauour: My dull Braine was wrought with things forgotten. Kinde Gentlemen, your paines are registred, Where euery day I turne the Leafe, To reade them. Let vs toward the King: thinke vpon What hath chanc'd: and at more time, The Interim hauing weigh'd it, let vs speake Our free Hearts each to other

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

All Pages of This Book
A Yorkshire Tragedy
The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet
The Lamentable Tragedy of Locrine
The Tragedie of Anthonie and Cleopatra
The Tragedie of Coriolanus
The Tragedie of Cymbeline
The Tragedie of Hamlet
The Tragedie of Julius Caesar
The Tragedie of King Lear
The Tragedie of Macbeth
The Tragedie of Othello
The Tragedie of Richard the Third
The Tragedie of Titus Andronicus