Hecate I am for th' air: this night I'll spend Unto a dismal and a fatal end; Great business must be wrought ere noon. Read more about popup_note_index_item 1989
Hecate 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, The close contriver of all harms, Was never called 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, 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'th' morning; thither he Read more about popup_note_index_item 1988
