Macbeth

Front 1

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,

Back 1

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Front 2

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,

Back 2

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Front 3

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

Back 3

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Front 4

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:

Back 4

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