SECOND WITCH.
Show me, show me.
FIRST WITCH.
Here I have a pilot's thumb,
Wreck'd as homeward he did come.
[Drum within.]
THIRD WITCH.
A drum, a drum!
Macbeth doth come.
ALL.
The weird sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land,
Thus do go about, about:
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again, to make up nine: —
Peace! — the charm's wound up.
[Enter Macbeth and Banquo.]
MACBETH.
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
BANQUO.
How far is't call'd to Forres? — What are these
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire,
That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are on't? — Live you? or are you aught
That man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her chappy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips: — you should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.
MACBETH.
Speak, if you can; — what are you?
FIRST WITCH.
All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!
SECOND WITCH.
All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!
