Front Page Titles (by Subject) Scene I.—: A Cavern. In the middle, a boiling Cauldron. - Macbeth
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Scene I.—: A Cavern. In the middle, a boiling Cauldron. - William Shakespeare, Macbeth 
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (The Oxford Shakespeare), ed. with a glossary by W.J. Craig M.A. (Oxford University Press, 1916).
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A Cavern. In the middle, a boiling Cauldron.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.
Thrice and once the hedge-pig whin’d.
Harper cries: ’Tis time, ’tis time.
How now, you secret, black, and mid-night hags!
What is ’t you do?
A deed without a name.
I conjure you, by that which you profess,—
Howe’er you come to know it,—answer me:
Though you untie the winds and let them fight
Against the churches; though the yesty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up;
Though bladed corn be lodg’d and trees blown down;
Though castles topple on their warders’ heads;
Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
Of Nature’s germens tumble all together,
Even till destruction sicken; answer me
To what I ask you.
Say if thou’dst rather hear it from our mouths,
Or from our masters’?
Call ’em: let me see ’em.
Thunder. First Apparition of an armed Head.
Tell me, thou unknown power,—
He knows thy thought:
Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;
Beware the Thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.
Whate’er thou art, for thy good caution thanks;
Thou hast harp’d my fear aright. But one word more,—
He will not be commanded: here’s another,
More potent than the first.
Thunder. Second Apparition, a bloody Child.
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!—
Had I three ears, I’d hear thee.
Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn
The power of man, for none of woman born
Shall harm Macbeth.
Thunder. Third Apparition, a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand.
What is this,
That rises like the issue of a king,
And wears upon his baby brow the round
And top of sovereignty?
Listen, but speak not to ’t.
Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care
Who chafes, who frets or where conspirers are:
Macbeth shall never vanquish’d be until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him.
That will never be:
Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
Rebellion’s head, rise never till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac’d Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing: tell me—if your art
Can tell so much,—shall Banquo’s issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?
Seek to know no more.
I will be satisfied: deny me this,
And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.
Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?
Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
Come like shadows, so depart.
A show of Eight Kings; the last with a glass in his hand:Banquo’s Ghost following.
Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down!
Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs: 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.
Horrible sight! Now, I see, ’tis true;
For the blood-bolter’d Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his.
What! is this so?
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 your antick round,
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.
[Music. The Witches dance, and then vanish withHecate.
Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour
Stand aye accursed in the calendar!
Come in, without there!
What’s your Grace’s will?
Saw you the weird sisters?
No, my lord.
Came they not by you?
No indeed, my lord.
Infected be the air whereon they ride,
And damn’d all those that trust them! I did hear
The galloping of horse: who was ’t came by?
’Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word
Macduff is fled to England.
Fled to England!
Ay, my good lord.
Time, thou anticipat’st my dread exploits;
The flighty purpose never is o’ertook
Unless the deed go with it; from this moment
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And even now,
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:
The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
Seize upon Fife; give to the edge of the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;
This deed I’ll do, before this purpose cool:
But no moresights! Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are.