All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!THIRD WITCH.
All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter!
BANQUO.
Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair?— I’ the name of truth,
Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace and 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
Your favors nor your hate.
FIRST WITCH.
Hail!
SECOND WITCH.
Hail!
THIRD WITCH.
Hail!
FIRST WITCH.
Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
SECOND WITCH.
Not so happy, yet much happier.
THIRD WITCH.
Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:
So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
FIRST WITCH.
Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
MACBETH.
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 king
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.]
BANQUO.
The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
And these are of them:—whither are they vanish’d?
MACBETH.
Into the air; and what seem’d corporal melted
As breath into the wind.—Would they had stay’d!
BANQUO.
Were such things here as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten on the insane root
That takes the reason prisoner?
MACBETH.
Your children shall be kings.
BANQUO.
You shall be king.
MACBETH.
And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?
BANQUO.
To the selfsame tune and words. Who’s here?
[Enter Ross and Angus.]
ROSS.
The king hath happily receiv’d, Macbeth,
The news of thy success: and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels’ fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend
Which should be thine or his: silenc’d with that,
In viewing o’er the rest o’ the selfsame day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as hail
Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom’s great defense,
And pour’d them down before him.
ANGUS.
We are sent
To give thee, from our royal master, thanks;
Only to herald thee into his sight,
Not pay thee.
ROSS.
And, for an earnest of a greater honor,
He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:
In which addition, hail, most worthy thane,
For it is thine.
BANQUO.
What, can the devil speak true?
MACBETH.
The Thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
In borrow’d robes?
ANGUS.
Who was the Thane lives yet;
But under heavy judgement bears that life
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin’d
With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
He labour’d in his country’s wreck, I know not;
But treasons capital, confess’d and proved,
Have overthrown him.
MACBETH.
[Aside.] Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behind.—Thanks for your pains.—
Do you not
