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ACT I.

SCENE.-An open place.

Thunder and lightning.-Enter three Witches

TRIO.

TUNE." And a begging we will go."

1. Witch.

Oh! when, o'er mountains leaping,

Shall we three meet again,

The plains with beesom (1) sweeping,
In thunder, lightning, rain?

And a sweeping we will go-will go,
And a sweeping we will go.

2. Witch.

Yon heath, the place of meeting,
Ere setting of the san

Macbeth we'll there be greeting-
No sooner said than done!

And a greeting we will go, &c.

3. Witch.

Grimalkin (2) calls-she's chiding!
Fair's foul, and foul is faire-
Our broom sticks now bestriding,

Thus ride we thro' the air.

And a riding we will go, &c.

All

Grimalkin calls, &c.

[They ride off.

SCENE-The Palace at Foris. 19

Enter King, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain.

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No doubt, of the revolt, the newest state;
That every circumstance he truly knows,
Is manifested by his bloody nose.

Malcolm.

The sergeant this-who, like' a hearty cock, (3) In my behalf braved many a desp'rate knock: How do you do, good fellow !-prithee say, Before the king your knowledge of th' affray.

Captain.

Long time in doubt the contest, I must own, Like two spent curs that's struggling for a bone. The villainous Macdonel-for you know

His acts have prov'd the villain long ago;

E

Was so assisted by the ragamuffins

Of Kernes, and all the gallow-glasses ruffians,
That o'er his numbers fortune for awhile
Appear'd, like a capricious jilt, to smile,
Till brave Macbeth, (for that's his epithet),
Now face to face the saucy rebel met
Who never bade good-morrow or good-bye,
For brandishing his glittering steel on high,
He dealt a blow with such unerring strength,
As laid the vile Macdonel at full length;
Then, with another, left the villain dead,
And soon the battlements displayed his head.

King.

This is the news for which so long we've wish'd;
Macbeth has won the day-Macdonel dish'd! (4)
Get brandy and brown paper, and with those,
Quick clap a plaister on the Captain's nose-
He's faint with loss of blood-but, on my oath,
His words and nose do smack of honour both.

Enter Rosse and Angus.

Ho! who comes here? ›

Malcolm.

The worthy Thane of Rosse.

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