Hark! I am call'd: my little spirit, see,
Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.

[Exit.

1 Witch. Come, let's make haste: she'll soon be back again.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. Fores. A Room in the Palace.

Enter LENOx and another Lord.

Len. My former speeches. have but hit your

thoughts,

Which can interpret further: only, I say,
Things have been strangely borne.

Duncan

The gracious

Was pitied of Macbeth; marry, he was dead;
And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;
Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd,
For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late.
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous
It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain,
To kill their gracious father? damned fact!
How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight,
In pious rage, the two delinquents tear,

That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep!
Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too;

Hec. [Going up.] Now I go, now I fly,

Malkin my sweet spirit and I.

O, what a dainty pleasure 'tis
To ride in the air

When the moon shines fair,

And sing and dance, and toy and kiss!
Over woods, high rocks, and mountains,
Over seas, our mistress' fountains,
Over steeples, towers, and turrets,

We fly by night, 'mongst troops of spirits:
No ring of bells to our ears sounds,
No howls of wolves, no yelps of hounds;
No, not the noise of water's breach,
Or cannon's throat, our height can reach

Voices above. No ring of bells." &c.

For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive,
To hear the men deny't. So that, I say,
He has borne all things well: and I do think,
That, had he Duncan's sons under his key,

(As, an't please Heaven, he shall not,) they should find What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. But, peace! -for from broad words, and 'cause he

fail'd

His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear,

Macduff lives in disgrace.

Where he bestows himself?

Lord.

Sir, can you tell

The son of Duncan,

From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
Lives in the English court; and is receiv'd
Of the most pious Edward with such grace,
That the malevolence of fortune nothing
Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduff
Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward;
That by the help of these (with Him above
To ratify the work) we may again

Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights,
Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives,
Do faithful homage, and receive free honours,
All which we pine for now: And this report
Hath so exasperate the king, that he

Prepares for some attempt of war.

Len.

:

Sent he to Macduff?

Lord. He did and with an absolute, "Sir, not I," The cloudy messenger turns me his back,

And hums, as who should say, "You'll rue the time That clogs me with this answer."

Len.

And that well might

Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance

The construction is: "Free our feasts and banquets from bloody knives."

His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel
Fly to the court of England, and unfold
His message ere he come; that a swift blessing
May soon return to this our suffering country
Under a hand accurs'd!

Lord. I'll send my prayers with him! [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. A dark Cave.

In the middle, a Cauldron.

Thunder.

Enter the three Witches.

1 Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. 2 Witch. Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin'd 3 Witch. Harper cries, "Tis time, 'tis time. 1 Witch. Round about the cauldron go;

In the poison'd entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone,'
Days and nights has thirty-one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i'the charmed pot.
All. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

2 Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake,

1 So in the original. Pope would read, "under the cold stone;" Steevens, "under coldest stone;" the latter of which is commonly followed. There seems, indeed, no call for any discord here, such as comes by omitting a syllable from the verse, and perhaps something dropped out in the printing. Yet to our ear the extending of cold to the time of two syllables feels right enough. At all events, we stick to the original.

H.

In the cauldron boil and bake:

Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
All. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
3 Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf;
Witch's mummy; maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark; 2
Root of hemlock, digged i'the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;

Gall of goat, and slips of yew,
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe,
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,

Make the gruel thick and slab :
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,"
For the ingredients of our cauldron.

2 We have repeatedly seen that Shakespeare often uses the active and passive forms of certain words indiscriminately. So here, ravin'd for ravening or ravenous. which swallows or gulps down any thing.

Gulf is throat; that

H.

That is, a tiger's entrails. In sorting the materials wherewith the Weird Sisters celebrate their infernal orgies, and com

pound their " hell-broth," Shakespeare gathered and condensed the popular belief of his time. Ben Jonson, whose mind dwelt more in the circumstantial, and who spun his poetry much more out of the local and particular, made a grand showing from the same source in his Mask of Queens. But his powers did not permit, nor did his purpose require, him to select and dispose his materials so as to cause any thing like such an impression of ter ror. Shakespeare so weaves his incantations as to cast a spell upon the mind, and force its acquiescence in what he represents : explode as we may the witchcraft he describes, there is no exploding the witchcraft of his description; the effect springing not so much from what he borrows as from his own ordering thereof. H.

All. Double, double toil and trouble:

Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

2 Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood;
Then the charm is firm and good.

Enter HECATE and other three Witches.
Hec. O, well done! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i'the gains.
And now about the cauldron sing,
Like elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.
Music and a Song. "Black spirits," &c.*
2 Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes: —
Open, locks, whoever knocks.

Enter МАСВЕТН.

Macb. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!

What is't you do?

All.

A deed without a name.

5

Macb. I conjure you, by that which you profess, (Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me : Though you untie the winds, and let them fight Against the churches; though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up; Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown down; Though castles topple on their warders' heads;

4 This song also, like the former, was not given in the printed copy of the play, and has been supplied from Middleton's Witch, the manuscript of which was discovered towards the close of the last century. We give it here, not feeling authorized to print it in the text:

"Black spirits and white, red spirits and gray; Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may." Probably both songs were taken from "the traditional wizard poetry of the drama."

• That is, foaming, frothy.

H