Thou art too like the spirit of banquo. down! thy crown does sear mine eyeballs. and thy hair, thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. a third is like the former.—filthy hags! why do you show me this? —a fourth? start, eyes! what, will the line stretch out to th' crack of doom? another yet? a seventh? i'll see no more. and yet the eighth appears who bears a glass which shows me many more, and some i see that two-fold balls and treble scepters carry. horrible sight! now i see 'tis true, for the blood-boltered banquo smiles upon me, and points at them for his.