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[Ghost disappears.]

       Why, so;—being gone,

       I am a man again.—Pray you, sit still.

       LADY MACBETH.

       You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,

       With most admir’d disorder.

       MACBETH.

       Can such things be,

       And overcome us like a summer’s cloud,

       Without our special wonder? You make me strange

       Even to the disposition that I owe,

       When now I think you can behold such sights,

       And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,

       When mine are blanch’d with fear.

       ROSS.

       What sights, my lord?

       LADY MACBETH.

       I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse;

       Question enrages him: at once, goodnight:—

       Stand not upon the order of your going,

       But go at once.

       LENNOX.

       Goodnight; and better health

       Attend his majesty!

       LADY MACBETH.

       A kind goodnight to all!

       [Exeunt all Lords and Atendants.]

       MACBETH.

       It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood:

       Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak;

       Augurs, and understood relations, have

       By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth

       The secret’st man of blood.—What is the night?

       LADY MACBETH.

       Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

       MACBETH.

       How say’st thou, that Macduff denies his person

       At our great bidding?

       LADY MACBETH.

       Did you send to him, sir?

       MACBETH.

       I hear it by the way; but I will send:

       There’s not a one of them but in his house

       I keep a servant fee’d. I will tomorrow,

       (And betimes I will) to the weird sisters:

       More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know,

       By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good,

       All causes shall give way: I am in blood

       Step’t in so far that, should I wade no more,

       Returning were as tedious as go o’er:

       Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;

       Which must be acted ere they may be scann’d.

       LADY MACBETH.

       You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

       MACBETH.

       Come, we’ll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse

       Is the initiate fear that wants hard use:—

       We are yet but young in deed.

       [Exeunt.]

       SCENE V. The heath.

       [Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecate.]

       FIRST WITCH.

       Why, how now, Hecate? you look angerly.

       HECATE.

       Have I not reason, beldams as you are,

       Saucy and overbold? How did you dare

       To trade and traffic with Macbeth

       In riddles and affairs of death;

       And I, the mistress of your charms,

       The close contriver of all harms,

       Was never call’d to bear my part,

       Or show the glory of our art?

       And, which is worse, all you have done

       Hath been but for a wayward son,

       Spiteful and wrathful; who, as others do,

       Loves for his own ends, not for you.

       But make amends now: get you gone,

       And at the pit of Acheron

       Meet me i’ the morning: thither he

       Will come to know his destiny.

       Your vessels and your spells provide,

       Your charms, and everything beside.

       I am for the air; this night I’ll spend

       Unto a dismal and a fatal end.

       Great business must be wrought ere noon:

       Upon the corner of the moon

       There hangs a vaporous drop profound;

       I’ll catch it ere it come to ground:

       And that, distill’d by magic sleights,

       Shall raise such artificial sprites,

       As, by the strength of their illusion,

       Shall draw him on to his confusion:

       He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear

       His hopes ‘bove wisdom, grace, and fear:

       And you all know, security

       Is mortals’ chiefest enemy.

       [Music and song within, “Come away, come away” &c.]

       Hark! I am call’d; my little spirit, see,

       Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me.

       [Exit.]

       FIRST WITCH.

       Come, let’s make haste; she’ll soon be back again.

       [Exeunt.]

       SCENE VI. Forres. A Room in the Palace.

       [Enter Lennox and another Lord.]

       LENNOX.

       My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,

       Which can interpret further: only, I say,

       Thing’s have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan

       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;

       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,

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