Macbeth (Dover Thrift Editions: Plays)

by William Shakespeare

FIRST WITCH. When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

THIRD WITCH. All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king hereafter!

And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s In deepest consequence.

Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires:

look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under’t.

Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes: Open, locks,

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.