[140]
Hec. Upon, the comer of the moon
There hangs a vaporous drop profound;
111 catch it ere it come to ground:
And that, distill'd by magic slights,
Shall raise such artificial sprights,
As, by the strength of their illusion.
Shall draw him on to his confusion:
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear.[1]
The description which the Sorceress here gives of a mind abandoned to reprobation, makes it impossible to suppose, that Shakspeare intended Macbeth any longer to feel the slightest fear, or reluctance, to commit the worst crimes his ambition
- ↑ Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 5,
