O well done! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i' the gains;
And now about the cauldron
Live elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.
Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' &c
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
How now, you secret, black, and midnight 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
Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down;
Though castles topple on their warders' heads;
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.
Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten
From the murderer's gibbet
Into the flame.
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