“By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks!” The door swung open by itself, and Macbeth entered. In spite of his curiosity, he stood almost appalled at the weird scene before him. The darkness of the cavern was fitfully lighted by the leaping flames of the fire, and the evil faces that peered back at him from the shadowy gloom might well bring discomfort to a guilty soul. “How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? What is it you do?” he demanded. “A deed without a name,” answered the witches in chorus. “I conjure you, by that which you profess, however you come to know it, answer me to what I ask you.” “Speak!” “Demand!” “We’ll answer,” said the witches. “Say if you would rather hear it from our mouths or from our masters?” “Call them; let me see them.” The first witch flung some additional horrible charms into the cauldron, and then the three chanted together: “Come, high or low; Thyself and office deftly show!” There was a flash of light, a roll of thunder, and in the midst of a cloud of blue steam there rose from the cauldron the Apparition of an armed Head. “Tell me, thou unknown power----” began Macbeth. “He knows thy thought,” said the first witch; “hear his speech, but say thou nought.” “Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff; Beware the Thane of Fife! Dismiss me. Enough.” “Whate’er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks,” said Macbeth, as the Apparition sank from view. “Thou hast spoken my fear aright; but one word more----” “He will not be commanded,” said the witch. “Here is another, more potent than the first.” There was another roll of thunder, and a second Apparition arose from the cauldron, a blood-stained Child. “Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!” “Had I three ears, I’d hear thee.” “Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn The power of man, for none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth.” “Then live, Macduff; what need I fear of thee?” cried Macbeth. “But yet I’ll make assurance double sure; thou shalt not live; that I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, and sleep in spite of thunder.” There was a third roll of thunder, and a third Apparition rose--a Child crowned, with a tree in its hand. “What is this that rises like the issue of a King, and wears upon his baby brow the round of sovereignty?” “Listen, but do not speak to it,” commanded the witches; and the Apparition spoke on: “Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: Macbeth shall never vanquished be until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him.”