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Norway himself, with terrible numbers,

The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;-tips
Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof, nante
Confronted him with self-comparisons,
Point against point, rebellious arm 'gainst arm ,
Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,
The victory fell on us;

Great happiness!
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.

(Exeunt. SCENE III.

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A Heath.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
1 Witch. Where hast thou been, sister?
2 Witch. Killing.swine.
3 Witch, Sister, where thou?

1 Witch. A sailor's wife had chesnuts in her lap,
And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd:

6 Give me,'
quoth I:
“ Aroint thee, witch!" the rump-fed ronyon cries.
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:
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. Thou art kind.


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3 Wilch. And I another.

1 Witch. I myself have all the other;
And the very ports they blow, Jouffen
All the quarters that they know
l' the shipman's card. Cátea din cancies
I'll drain him dry as hay: Be Anti
Sleep shall, neither night nor day,
Hang upon his pent-house lid; licable at omnes

He shall live a man forbid.
Weary sev'n-nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine : 1526*itetit,
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd. "ballis kish
Look what I have.

2 Witch. Show me, show me.
1 Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb,

Wreck'd as homeward he did come.

[Drum within.
3 Witch. A drum! a drum! leren lains
Macbeth doth come.

All. The weird sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land, osketes
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. Csince hnete

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Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Ban. How far is 't call’d to Fores?- What are these,
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire, dine beny
That look not like th' 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 chappy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips :

You should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.

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Macb. Speak, if you can. What are you?
1 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
2 Witch. All bail, Macbeth! bail 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 tris dan coment

Things that do sound so fair? - I the name of truth,
hinen, der Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
Home Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace ,

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, meintes
Your favours, nor your hate.

1 Witch. Hail!
2 Witch, Hail!
3 Witch, Hail!
1 Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.

2 Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier.
este nence. 3 Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:

So, all bail, 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,
A prosperous gentleman; and to be kingê Teste
Stands not within the prospect of belief,
No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence
You owe this strange intelligence? or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
With such prophetic greeting? — Speak, I charge you.

(Witches vanish.
Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water bas,
And these are of them. - Whither are they vanishd? (are

Macb. Into the air; and what seem'd corporal, melted 1024
As breath into the wind. - 'Would they had stay'd!


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Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak about,
Or have we eaten on the insape root, racine getale
That takes the reason prisoner?

Macb. Your children shall be kings.

You shall be king.
Macb. And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so ?

Ban. To the self-same tune, and words. Who's here?

Enter Rosse and ANGUS.
Rosse. The king hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,

The news of thy success; and when he reads
Tanner Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,

His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine, or his. Silenc'd with that, s'ant
In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Carena che


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theme Nothing aseard of what thyself didst make

Strange images of death. As thick as tale, Yvon
And pour’d them down before him. restreint


.**t er zuer Came post with post; and every one did bear

Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,


We are sent,
To give thee from our royal master thanks;
Only to herald thee into his sight, coure e Ozrensa que he's and
Not pay thee.
Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honour,

He bade me from him call thee thane of Cawdor:
huhe in which addition, hail, most worthy thane,

For it is thine.

Ban. What! can the devil speak true?

Mac). The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
In borrow'd robes?

Who was the thane, lives yet;
But under heavy judgment bears that life
te which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin'd sesi

With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
With hidden help and yantage, or that with both


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He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
But treasons capital, confess'd and prov'd,
Have overthrown him.

Glamis, and thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains.
Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no less to them?

intenives Ban.

That, trusted home, - mettent
Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 't is strange :
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,

The instruments of darkness tell us truths; : Win us with honest trifles, to betray us

In deepest consequence.
Cousins, a word, I pray you.

Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen.
This supernatural soliciting unite
Cannot be ill; cannot be good: - ifill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion is rece
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings.
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastica!,

Shakes so my single state of man, that function
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is,
But what is not.

Look, how our partner's rapt.
Macb. If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown




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Without my stir.


New honours come upon him,

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