Enter Macbeth. Mach. How now, you fecret, black, and midnight hags! hat is't you do? All. A deed without a name. Macb. I conjure you, by that which you profess, owe'er you come to know it, answer me. hough you untie the winds, and let them fight gainst the churches; though the yefty waves onfound and fwallow navigation up; "hough bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown down; 'hough caftles topple on their warders' heads; hough palaces and pyramids do flope heir heads to their foundations; though the treasure of Nature's germins tumble all together, ven till destruction ficken, answer me To what I ask you. I Witch. Speak. 2 Witch. Demand. 3 Witch. We'll answer. I Witch. Say, if thou'dft rather hear it from our mouths, Or from our masters? Mach. Call 'em. Let me fee 'em. I Witch. Pour in fow's blood, that hath eaten nto the flame. All. Come high or low : Thyfelf and office deftly show. Apparition of an armed Head rifes. Macb. Tell me, thou unknown power. 1 Witch. He knows thy thought. Hear his fpeech, but fay thou nought. " } [Thunder. App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff! Beware the Thane of Fife-difmifs me-enough. [Defcends. Macb. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks. Thou'ft harp'd my fear aright. But one word more 1 Witch. He will not be commanded. Here's another More potent than the first. [Thunder. Appa Apparition of a bloody Child rifes. App. Macbeth! Macbeth!, Macbeth! App. Be bloody, bold, and refolute; laugh to fcorn Shall harm Macbeth. [Defcends. Macb. Then live, Macduff. What need. I fear of thee? But yet I'll make affurance double fure, And take a bond of Fate. Thou shalt not live, That I may tell pale-hearted Fear, it lies; And fleep in fpite of thunder. [Thunder. Apparition of a Child, crowned, with a tree in his hand, rijes. What is this, That rifes like the iffue of a king, And wears upon his baby-brow the round And top of fovereignty? All. Liften, but speak not. App. Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care, Who chafes, who frets, or where confpirers are: Macbeth fhall never vanquish'd be, until Great Birnam-wood to Dunfinane's high hill Shall come against him. Macb. That will never be: Who can imprefs the foreft, bid the tree [Defcends. Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good! Of Birnam rife, and our high-plac'd Macbeth All. Seek to know no more. [The cauldron finks into the ground. Macb. I will be fatisfy'd. Deny me this, And an eternal curfe on you! Let me know, Why finks that cauldron, and what noife is this. 1 Witch. Shew! 2 Witch. Shew! [Hautboys. 3 Witch 3 Witch. Shew. All. Shew his eyes, and grieve his heart. Come like fhadows, fo depart. [Eight Kings appear, and pass over in order; and Banque Mach. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo. Down! Why do you fhew me this ?-A fourth-Start, eye! Come, fifters, cheer we up his fprights, you perform your antic round, That this great king may kindly say, Our duties did his welcome pay. [Mufic. The witches dance and vanih. Mach. Where are they? gone?-Let this pernicious hour Stand ay accurfed in the kalendar. Come in, without there! Enter Lenox, Len. What's your Grace's will? Macb. Came they not by you? Len. No, indeed, my Lord. Macb. Infected be the air whereon they ride, And damn'd all thofe that truft them! I did hear The galloping of horfe. Who was't came by? Len. 'Tis two or three, my Lord, that bring you word Macduff is fled to England. L Macb Mach. Fled to England? Len. Ay, my good Lord. Macb. [Afide.] Time, thou anticipat'ft my dread exploi The flighty purpose never is o'ertook, Unless the deed go with it. From this moment, The firftlings of my hand. And even now To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and dons: Seize upon Fife, give to the edge o' the sword That trace him in his line. No boafting like a fool: But no more fights.-Where are thefe gentlemen? [Ext N°. VII-KING JOHN. Enter Hubert and Executioners. HUBERT. HEAT me thefe irons hot, and look thou ftand Within the arras: when I ftrike my foot Arth. Good-morrow, Hubert. Hub. Good-morrow, little Prince. Arth. As little Prince (having fo great a title Meth Methinks, no body fhould be fad but I; Is it my fault, that I was Geffrey's son ? I were your fon, fo you would love me, Hubert. [Afide. Arth. Are you fick, Hubert? You look pale to-day! How now, foolish rheum, Turning difpiteous torture out of door! my bofom. Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears.- Arth. And will you? Hub. And I will. [Afide. Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but ake, I knit my handkerchief about your brows; (The best I had, a princess wrought it me) And I did never ask it you again; And with my hand at midnight held your head; And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time, Saying, What lack you? and where lies your grief? L 2 And |