[Above.]-Here:

And Hoppo too, and Hellwain too :
We lack but you; we lack but you:
Come away, make up the count.

Hec. I will but 'noint, and then I mount.

(A Spirit like a Cat descends.)

[Above.]-There's one come down to fetch his dues ;

A kiss, a coll, a sip of blood:

And why thou stay'st so long, I muse, I muse,

Since the air's so sweet and good.

Hec. Oh art thou come?

What news, what news?

Spirit. All goes still to our delight:

Either come, or else

Refuse, refuse.

Hec. Now I am furnish'd for the flight.

Fire. Hark, hark, the Cat sings a brave treble in her

own language.

Hec. [Going up.] Now I go, now I fly,

Malkin my sweet Spirit and I.

Oh what a dainty pleasure 'tis
To ride in the air

When the moon shines fair,

And sing, and dance, and toy, and kiss:
Over woods, high rocks, and mountains,
Over seas (our mistress' fountains)
Over steep towers and turrets,

We fly by night 'mongst troops of Spirits.
No ring of bells to our ears sounds,
No howls of wolves, no yelps of hounds;
No, not the noise of water's-breach,

Or cannon's throat, our height can reach.
[Above.] No ring of bells, &c.

Fire. Well, mother, I thank your kindness; you

must be

Gamboling in the air, and leave me to walk here like a

A Duchess consults the Witch about inflicting a sudden Death.
DUCHESS. HECATE. FIRESTONE.

Hec. What death is 't you desire for Almachildes?
Duch. A sudden and a subtle.

Hec. Then I've fitted you.

Here lie the gifts of both; sudden and subtle :
His picture made in wax, and gently molten
By a blue fire, kindled with dead men's eyes,
Will waste him by degrees.

Duch. In what time prithee?

Hec. Perhaps in a moon's progress.
Duch. What, a month?

Out upon pictures, if they be so tedious:

Give me things with some life.

Hec. Then seek no farther.

Duch. This must be done with speed, dispatch'd this night,

If it be possible.

Hec. I have it for you:

Here's that will do 't: stay but perfection's time,

And that's not five hours hence.

Duch. Canst thou do this?

Hec. Can I?

Duch. I mean, so closely ?

Hec. So closely do you mean too?

Duch. So artfully, so cunningly?

Hec. Worse and worse.

Doubts and incredulities,

They make me mad. Let scrupulous creatures know:
Cum volui, ripis ipsis mirantibus, amnes
In fontes rediere suos; concussaque sisto,
Stantia concutio cantu freta; nubila pello,
Nubilaque induco: ventos abigoque, vocoque.

Vipereas rumpo verbis et carmine fauces;
Et sylvas moveo, jubeoque tremiscere montes,
Et mugiere solum, manesque exire sepulchris.
Te quoque, Luna, traho.

Can you doubt me then, daughter;

That can make mountains tremble, miles of woods walk : Whole earth's foundation bellow, and the spirits

Of the entomb'd to burst out from their marbles;

Nay, draw yon Moon to my involv'd designs?

Fire. I know as well as can be when my mother's mad, and our

Great cat angry; for one spits French then, and the other spits Latin.

Duch. I did not doubt you,

Hec. No! what, did you?

mother.

My power's so firm, it is not to be question'd.

Duch. Forgive what's past; and now I know th' offen

siveness

That vexes art, I'll shun the occasion ever.

Hec. Leave all to me and my five sisters, daughter. It shall be convey'd in at howlet-time.

Take you no care. My spirits know their moments:
Raven or screech-owl never fly by the door

But they call in (I thank 'em) and they lose not by't.
I give 'em barley soak'd in infant's blood:

They shall have semina cum sanguine,

Their gorge cramm'd full, if they come once to our house: We are no niggard.

Fre. They fare but too well when they come hither: they ate up as much the other night as would have made me a good conscionable pudding. Hec. Give me some lizard's brain, quickly, Firestone. Where's grannam Stadlin, and all the rest of the sisters ? Fire. All at hand, forsooth.

(The other Witches appear.)

Hec. Give me Marmaritin; some Bear-breech: when?

Fire. Here's Bear-breech and lizard's-brain, forsooth. Hec. Into the vessel;

And fetch three ounces of the red-hair'd girl

I kill'd last midnight.

Fire. Whereabout, sweet mother?

Hec. Hip; hip, or flank. Where's the Acopus ?
Fire. You shall have Acopus, forsooth.

Hec. Stir, stir, about; whilst I begin the charm.

A Charm Song about a Vessel.

Hec. Black spirits and white, red spirits and grey;
Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may.
Titty, Tiffin, keep it stiff in;

Fire-drake, Puckey, make it lucky;

Liard, Robin, you must bob in.

Round, around, around, about, about;

All Ill come running in, all Good keep out.
First Witch. Here's the blood of a bat.
Hec. Put in that, oh, put in that.

Sec. Witch. Here's libbard's-bane.

Hec. Put in again.

First Witch. The juice of toad; the oil of adder. Sec. Witch. Those will make the younker madder. Hec. Put in, there's all, and rid the stench.

Fire. Nay, here's three ounces of the red-hair'd wench. All. Round, around, around, &c.

Hec. So, so, enough into the vessel with it.

There; 't hath the true perfection: I am so light*

At any mischief, there's no villainy

But is a tune methinks.

Fire. A tune! 'tis to the tune of damnation then, I

warrant you,

And that song hath a villainous burthen.

• Light-hearted.

Hec. Come my sweet sisters, let the air strike our

tune;

Whilst we show reverence to yon peeping moon.

[The Witches dance, et Exeunt.

[Though some resemblance may be traced between the Charms in Macbeth, and the Incantations in this Play, which is supposed to have preceded it, this coincidence will not detract much from the originality of Shakspeare. His Witches are distinguished from the Witches of Middleton by essential differences. These are creatures to whom man or woman plotting some dire mischief might resort for occasional consultation. Those originate deeds of blood, and begin bad impulses to men. From the moment that their eyes first meet with Macbeth's, he is spell-bound. That meeting sways his destiny. He can never break the fascination. These Witches can hurt the body; those have power over the soul.-Hecate in Middleton has a Son, a low buffoon: the hags of Shakspeare have neither child of their own, nor seem to be descended from any parent. They are foul Anomalies, of whom we know not whence they are sprung, nor whether they have beginning or ending. As they are without human passions, so they seem to be without human relations. They come with thunder and lightning, and vanish to airy music. This is all we know of them. Except Hecate, they have no names; which heightens their mysteriousness. Their names, and some of the properties, which Middleton has given to his Hags, excite smiles. The Weird Sisters are serious things. Their presence cannot co-exist with mirth. But, in a lesser degree, the Witches of Middleton are fine creations. Their power too is, in some measure, over the mind. They raise jars, jealousies, strifes, like a thick scurf o'er life.]