“Tell me, if your art can tell so much,” he begged the witches, “shall Banquo’s issue ever reign in this kingdom?”
“Seek to know no more,” came the solemn warning.
‘What is this that rises like the issue of a King?’
”I will be satisfied. Deny me this, and an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know! Why does that cauldron sink, and what noise is that?” For there was the sound of trumpets.
”Show!... Show!... Show!... Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, so depart!”
Then in the dusk of the cavern shone a strange luminous glow, and slowly in procession passed a line of eight Kings; the last carried a mirror in his hand, and was followed by Banquo’s ghost.
Horrible sight! Then, after all, the witches had spoken truly, and it was Banquo’s children who should fill the throne of Scotland for untold generations. For in the mirror held by the eighth King were reflected many more, and some of them carried twofold orbs and treble sceptres.