Part 16

Musicke and a Song. Blacke Spirits, &c.

2 By the pricking of my Thumbes, Something wicked this way comes: Open Lockes, who euer knockes. Enter Macbeth.

Macb. How now you secret, black, & midnight Hags? What is't you do? All. A deed without a name

Macb. I coniure you, by that which you Professe, (How ere you come to know it) answer me: Though you vntye the Windes, and let them fight Against the Churches: Though the yesty Waues Confound and swallow Nauigation vp: Though bladed Corne be lodg'd, & Trees blown downe, Though Castles topple on their Warders heads: Though Pallaces, and Pyramids do slope Their heads to their Foundations: Though the treasure Of Natures Germaine, tumble altogether, Euen till destruction sicken: Answer me To what I aske you

1 Speake

2 Demand

3 Wee'l answer

1 Say, if th'hadst rather heare it from our mouthes, Or from our Masters

Macb. Call 'em: let me see 'em

1 Powre in Sowes blood, that hath eaten Her nine Farrow: Greaze that's sweaten From the Murderers Gibbet, throw Into the Flame

All. Come high or low: Thy Selfe and Office deaftly show. Thunder. 1. Apparation, an Armed Head.

Macb. Tell me, thou vnknowne power

1 He knowes thy thought: Heare his speech, but say thou nought

1 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth: Beware Macduffe, Beware the Thane of Fife: dismisse me. Enough.

He Descends.

Macb. What ere thou art, for thy good caution, thanks Thou hast harp'd my feare aright. But one word more

1 He will not be commanded: heere's another More potent then the first.

Thunder. 2 Apparition, a Bloody Childe.

2 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth

Macb. Had I three eares, Il'd heare thee

Appar. Be bloody, bold, & resolute: Laugh to scorne The powre of man: For none of woman borne Shall harme Macbeth.

Descends.

Mac. Then liue Macduffe: what need I feare of thee? But yet Ile make assurance: double sure, And take a Bond of Fate: thou shalt not liue, That I may tell pale-hearted Feare, it lies; And sleepe in spight of Thunder.

Thunder 3 Apparation, a Childe Crowned, with a Tree in his hand.

What is this, that rises like the issue of a King, And weares vpon his Baby-brow, the round And top of Soueraignty? All. Listen, but speake not too't

3 Appar. Be Lyon metled, proud, and take no care: Who chafes, who frets, or where Conspirers are: Macbeth shall neuer vanquish'd be, vntill Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunsmane Hill Shall come against him.

Descend.

Macb. That will neuer bee: Who can impresse the Forrest, bid the Tree Vnfixe his earth-bound Root? Sweet boadments, good: Rebellious dead, rise neuer till the Wood Of Byrnan rise, and our high plac'd Macbeth Shall liue the Lease of Nature, pay his breath To time, and mortall Custome. Yet my Hart Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, if your Art Can tell so much: Shall Banquo's issue euer Reigne in this Kingdome? All. Seeke to know no more