As he came over the hills at the back of the stage, accompanied by Banquo, in his Highland tartan, his plumed Scotch cap, his legs bare from the knee to the ankle, his pointed targe on his arm, with his free and commanding air, and his appearance of elastic strength and freshness, he was a picture of vigorous, breezy manhood. His first words were addressed to Banquo in an easy tone, such as one would naturally use in describing the weather:
“So foul and fair a day I have not seen.”
The witches hailing him with new titles and a royal prophecy, he starts,—
“And seems to fear
Things that do sound so fair.”
As they concluded, the manner in which, with subdued breathing eagerness, he said,—
“Stay, you imperfect speakers; tell me more,”—
showed what a deep and prepared chord in his soul their greeting had struck. And when they made themselves vapor and disappeared, he stood rapt in the wonder of it, and replied to the question of Banquo, “Whither have they vanished?” with a dissolving whispering voice, in an attitude of musing suspense and astonishment,—
“Into the air; and what seemed corporal melted
As breath into the wind. Would they had stayed!”