Page 2143 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

ALL

Show his eyes and grieve his heart;
Come like shadows, so depart. [110]

A show of eight kings, and Banquo; the last king with a glass in his hand.

MACBETH
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 glass
Which shows me many more. And some I see
That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry. [120]

Horrible sight! Now I see ’tis true,
For the blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his. What! Is this so?

FIRST WITCH
Ay, sir, all this is so. But why

Stands 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 you antic round,
That this great king may kindly say [130]
Our duties did his welcome pay.

Music. The Witches dance; and vanish.

MACBETH
Where are they? Gone! Let this pernicious hour

Stand aye accursèd in the calendar.
Come in, without there.