When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
Fair is foul, and foul is fair.
When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won.
Doubtful it stood, As two spent swimmers that do cling together And choke their art.
No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest . Go pronounce his death And with his former title greet Macbeth.
All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter!
Aside- Two truths are told, As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme.
Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner?
The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, For in my way it lies.
Our eldest Malcolm, whom we name hereafter The Prince of Cumberland; which honor must Not unaccompanied invest him only, But signs nobleness, like, stars, shall shine On all deserves.
Yet do I fear thy nature. It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way.
Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty!
Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valor As thou art desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would," Like the poor cat i' the adage?
We will proceed no further in this business. He hath honored me of late, and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon.
