Macbeth

Musicke and a Song. Blacke Spirits, &c. 2 By the pricking of my Thumbes, Something wicked this way comes: Open Lockes, who euer knockes. Enter Macbeth. Macb. How now you secret, black, & midnight Hags? What is't you do? All. A deed without a name Macb. I coniure you, by that which you Professe, (How ere you come to know it) answer me: Though you vntye the Windes, and let them fight Against the Churches: Though the yesty Waues Confound and swallow Nauigation vp: Though bladed Corne be lodg'd, & Trees blown downe, Though Castles topple on their Warders heads: Though Pallaces, and Pyramids do slope Their heads to their Foundations: Though the treasure Of Natures Germaine, tumble altogether, Euen till destruction sicken: Answer me To what I aske you 1 Speake 2 Demand 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 Bloody Childe. 2 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth Macb. Had I three eares, Il'd heare thee Appar. Be bloody, 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 assurance: 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 glasse 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 glasse, 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