Page 2133 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

You lack the season of all natures, sleep. [140]

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 IT

Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecat.

FIRST WITCH
Why, how now, Hecat? You look angerly.

HECAT
Have I not reason, beldams, as you are

Saucy and over-bold? 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 called to bear my part,
Or show the glory of our art?
And, which is worse, all you have done [10]

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 [20]
Unto a dismal and a fatal end.
Great business must be wrought ere noon