First Witch He knows thy thought: Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

Sleep knits up the raveled sleeve of care.

I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.

But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool.

Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

And I will make it felony to drink small beer.

He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat.