First Witch

     Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly.

HECATE

     Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
     Saucy and overbold? How did you dare
     To trade and traffic with Macbeth
     In riddles and affairs of death;
     And I, the mistress of your charms,
     The close contriver of all harms,
     Was never call'd to bear my part,
     Or show the glory of our art?
     And, which is worse, all you have done
     Hath been but for a wayward son,
     Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do,
     Loves for his own ends, not for you.
     But make amends now: get you gone,
     And at the pit of Acheron
     Meet me i' the morning: thither he
     Will come to know his destiny:
     Your vessels and your spells provide,
     Your charms and every thing beside.
     I am for the air; this night I'll spend
     Unto a dismal and a fatal end:
     Great business must be wrought ere noon:
     Upon the corner of the moon
     There hangs a vaporous drop profound;
     I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
     And that distill'd by magic sleights
     Shall raise such artificial sprites
     As by the strength of their illusion
     Shall draw him on to his confusion:
     He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
     He hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear:
     And you all know, security
     Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

     Music and a song within: 'Come away, come away,' &c

     Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see,
     Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.

     Exit

First Witch

     Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.