Anon, Anon! I pray to you,
You Secret, black and midnight hags!
What’s your grace’s will?
Give sovereign sway and masterdom to me?
Or will God save the king?
Thane of Glamis
Thane of Cawdor
King of Scotland
What art promised: yet I fear thy nature;
Thou wouldst be great: Wrought with the serpent under it
For mine own good, All Causes must give way
In thunder, in lightning and in rain
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
No more sights yet another Galgotha
Anon, Anon! I pray to you.
If chance will have me king,
The power of man hath earnest me of success
with this supernatural soliciting
Amen
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