Samhain Blessings & Wishing You a Wonderful New Year!
The Witches’ Spell
Act IV, Scene 1 from Macbeth (1606) by William Shakespeare
A dark Cave. In the middle, a Caldron boiling. Thunder.
Enter the three Witches.
1 WITCH. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.
2 WITCH. Thrice and once, the hedge-pig whin’d.
3 WITCH. Harpier cries:—’tis time! ’tis time!
1 WITCH. Round about the caldron go;
In the poison’d entrails throw.—
Toad, that under cold stone,
Days and nights has thirty-one;
Swelter’d venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot!
ALL. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
2 WITCH. Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing,—
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
ALL. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
3 WITCH. Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf;
Witches’ mummy; maw and gulf
Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark;
Root of hemlock digg’d i the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,—
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,
For the ingrediants of our caldron.
ALL. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
2 WITCH. Cool it with a baboon’s blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.
The wheel has turned
The seasons spun
The year ends as well as begun
The Ancients spoke
They are revered
We hear their call that much is clear
Between the worlds we go once more
As we walk through the sacred door
The cycles of life, we weave the web
Of things we experience in both soul and head
The Lord and Lady join us too
To celebrate the cycles as we all move
They come to us as Sage and Crone
To share with us things yet unknown
This is the harvest of goals set
The final harvest of three
Did you reap the fruits that you wanted?
Or did you find your harvest in lack?
The growth of desires rest on your shoulders
The job of the grower is yours
While the Lord and the Lady will aid you
The field is not theirs to do.
Be not afraid of the death here
It enfolds in a cold chilly cloak
It comes to bring balance to the cycle
And the promise of life invoke.
