Scene I

Round about the cauldron go;In the poison’d entrails throw.Toad, that under cold stoneDays and nights has thirty-oneSwelter’d venom sleeping got,Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.

Double, double toil and trouble;Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Fillet of a fenny snake,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 howlet’s wing,For a charm of powerful trouble,Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

Double, double toil and trouble;Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,Witches’ mummy, maw and gulfOf the ravin’d salt-sea shark,Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark,Liver of blaspheming Jew,Gall of goat, and slips of yewSliver’d in the moon’s eclipse,Nose of Turk and Tartar’s lips,Finger of birth-strangled babeDitch-deliver’d by a drab,Make the gruel thick and slab:Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,For the ingredients of our cauldron.

Double, double toil and trouble;Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Cool it with a baboon’s blood,Then the charm is firm and good.

O well done! I commend your pains;And every one shall share i’ the gains:And now about the cauldron sing,Live elves and fairies in a ring,Enchanting all that you put in. Music and a song: “Black spirits,” etc. Hecate retires.

By the pricking of my thumbs,Something wicked this way comes.

Open, locks,Whoever knocks!

How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!What is’t you do?

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 fightAgainst the churches; though the yesty wavesConfound and swallow navigation up;Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down;Though castles topple on their warders’ heads;Though palaces and pyramids do slopeTheir heads to their foundations; though the treasureOf nature’s germens tumble all together,Even till destruction sicken; answer meTo what I ask you.

Say, if thou’dst rather hear it from our mouths,Or from our masters?

Pour in sow’s blood, that hath eatenHer nine farrow; grease that’s sweatenFrom the murderer’s gibbet throwInto the flame.

Come, high or low;Thyself and office deftly show!

He knows thy thought:Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough. Descends.

Whate’er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;Thou hast harp’d my fear aright: but one word more—

He will not be commanded: here’s another,More potent than the first.

Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scornThe power of man, for none of woman bornShall harm Macbeth. Descends.

Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee?But yet I’ll make assurance double sure,And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,And sleep in spite of thunder.

Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no careWho chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:Macbeth shall never vanquish’d be untilGreat Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hillShall come against him. Descends.

That will never be:Who can impress the forest, bid the treeUnfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!Rebellion’s head, rise never till the woodOf Birnam rise, and our high-placed MacbethShall live the lease of nature, pay his breathTo time and mortal custom. Yet my heartThrobs to know one thing: tell me, if your artCan tell so much: shall Banquo’s issue everReign in this kingdom?

I will be satisfied: deny me this,And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this? Hautboys.

Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;Come like shadows, so depart!

Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down!Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair,Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.A third is like the former. Filthy hags!Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes!What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?Another yet! A seventh! I’ll see no more:And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glassWhich shows me many more; and some I seeThat two-fold balls and treble scepters carry:Horrible sight! Now, I see, ’tis true;For the blood-bolter’d Banquo smiles upon me,And points at them for his. Apparitions vanish. What, is this so?

Ay, sir, all this is so: but whyStands Macbeth thus amazedly?Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,And show the best of our delights:I’ll charm the air to give a sound,While you perform your antic round;That this great king may kindly say,Our duties did his welcome pay. Music. The Witches dance, and then vanish, with Hecate.

Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hourStand aye accursed in the calendar!Come in, without there!

Infected be the air whereon they ride;And damn’d all those that trust them! I did hearThe galloping of horse: who was’t came by?

’Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you wordMacduff is fled to England.

Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits:The flighty purpose never is o’ertookUnless the deed go with it: from this momentThe very firstlings of my heart shall beThe firstlings of my hand. And even now,To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:The castle of Macduff I will surprise;Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o’ the swordHis wife, his babes, and all unfortunate soulsThat trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;This deed I’ll do before this purpose cool.But no more sights!—Where are these gentlemen?Come, bring me where they are. Exeunt.