A Heath.
 Thunder. Enter the three WITCHES.

1st Witch	Where hast thou been, sister?

2nd Witch	Killing swine.

3rd Witch					Sister, where thou?

1st Witch	A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
	And munched, and munched, and munched. 'Give me' quoth I.
	'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries.
	Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o'th' 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.

2nd Witch	I'll give thee a wind.

1st Witch	Thou'rt kind.

3rd Witch	And I another.

1st Witch	I myself have all the other,
	And the very ports they blow,
	All the quarters that they know
	I'th' shipman's card.
	I'll drain him dry as hay;
	Sleep shall neither night nor day
	Hang upon his penthouse lid.
	He shall live a man forbid.
	Weary sennights nine times nine
	Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine.
	Though his bark cannot be lost,
	Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
	Look what I have.

2nd Witch						Show me, show me.

1st Witch	Here I have a pilot's thumb,
	Wracked as homeward he did come.
												[Drum within.
3rd Witch	A drum! A drum!
	Macbeth doth come.

All Witches	The Weird sisters, hand in hand,
	Posters of the sea and land,
	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.

                        Enter MACBETH and BANQUO.

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

Banquo	How far is't called to Forres? What are these,
	So withered and so wild in their attire,
	That look not like th' inhabitants o'th' 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 choppy finger laying
	Upon her skinny lips. You should be women,
	And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
	That you are so.

Macbeth						Speak, if you can. What are you?

1st Witch	All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!

2nd Witch	All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!

3rd 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?
	[To the WITCHES.]			I'th' 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 favours nor your hate.

1st Witch	Hail!

2nd Witch	Hail!

3rd Witch	Hail!

1st Witch	Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.

2nd Witch	Not so happy, yet much happier.

3rd Witch	Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none.
	So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!

1st 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 vanished?

Macbeth	Into the air, and what seemed corporal
	Melted as breath into the wind. Would they had stayed.

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 th' selfsame tune and words. Who's here?

                          Enter ROSS and ANGUS.

Ross	The king hath happily received, 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. Silenced with that,
	In viewing o'er the rest o'th' selfsame day
	He finds thee in the stout Norwegian 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 defence,
	And poured 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 honour,
	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 borrowed robes?

Angus						Who was the thane lives yet;
	But under heavy judgement bears that life
	Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined
	With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
	With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
	He laboured in his country's wrack, I know not;
	But treasons capital, confessed and proved,
	Have overthrown him.

Macbeth	[Aside.]				Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor!
	The greatest is behind.
	[To ROSS and ANGUS.]	Thanks for your pains.
	[To BANQUO.] Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
	When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me
	Promised no less to them?

Banquo								That, trusted home,
	Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
	Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange;
	And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
	The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
	Win us with honest trifles, to betray's
	In deepest consequence.
	Cousins, a word, I pray you.

Macbeth	[Aside.]						Two truths are told
	As happy prologues to the swelling act
	Of the imperial theme. [Aloud.] I thank you, gentlemen.
	[Aside.] This supernatural soliciting
	Cannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill,
	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
	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 fantastical,
	Shakes so my single state of man
	That function is smothered in surmise,
	And nothing is but what is not.

Banquo	Look how our partner's rapt.

Macbeth	[Aside.]
	If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me
	Without my stir.

Banquo						New honours come upon him,
	Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
	But with the aid of use.

Macbeth	[Aside.]					Come what come may,
	Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

Banquo	Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

Macbeth	Give me your favour; my dull brain was wrought
	With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
	Are registered where every day I turn
	The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.
	[To BANQUO.]
	Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time,
	The interim having weighed it, let us speak
	Our free hearts each to other.

Banquo										Very gladly.

Macbeth	Till then, enough. Come, friends.
												[Exeunt.
