The Tragedy of Macbeth[ Dramatis Persons
¶DoNALBAIN, \ h , S SOnS " A Scotch Doctor.
Lennox,
Menteith,Lady Macduff.Angus,
¶J Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth.
Caithness,
¶FLEANCE, son to Banquo.SIWARD, earl of Northumberland. HECATE.Young SIWARD, his son. Three Witches.SEYTON, an officer attending on Macbeth. Apparitions.
¶Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, Attendants, and Messengers
Scene: Scotland; England]Act ISCENE I. [A heath]Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches
2. Witch. When the hurlyburly's done,
¶When the battle's lost and won.3. Witch. That will be ere the set of sun.1. Witch. Where the place ?2. Witch. Upon the heath.3. Witch. There to meet with Macbeth.1. Witch. I come, Graymalkin! 1[2. Witch.] Paddock 2 calls:—Anon!
p. 322¶All. Fair is foul, and foul is fair;
¶Hover through the fog and filthy air. Exeunt.
¶SCENE II. [A camp near Forres]
¶Alarum within. Enter DUNCAN , MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX,
¶with Attendants, meeting a bleeding CaptainDun. What bloody man is that? He can report,As seemeth by his plight, of the revoltThe newest state.Mai. This is the sergeantWho like a good and hardy soldier fought'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend!Say to the King the knowledge of the broilAs thou didst leave it.Cap. Doubtful it stood,As two spent swimmers that do cling togetherAnd choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald—Worthy to be a rebel, for to that 1The multiplying villainies of natureDo swarm upon him—from the Western IslesOf kerns 2 and gallowglasses 3 is suppli'd;And Fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,Show'd like a rebel's whore. 4 But all's too weak;For brave Macbeth—well he deserves that name—Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish'd steel,Which smok'd with bloody execution,Like Valour's minion 5 carv'd out his passageTill he fac'd the slave;Which 6 ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps, 7And fix'd his head upon our battlements.Dun. O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!Cap. As whence the sun gins his reflectionShipwrecking storms and direful thunders break,[323]So from that spring 8 whence comfort seem'd to comeDiscomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark!No sooner j ustice had, with valour arm'd,Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels,But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, 9With furbish'd arms and new supplies of menBegan a fresh assault.Dun. Dismay'd not thisOur captains, Macbeth and Banquo?Cap. Yes ;As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.If I say sooth, I must report they wereAs cannons overcharg'd with double cracks; so theyDoubly redoubled strokes upon the foe.Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,Or memorize another Golgotha, 1 0I cannot tell.But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.Dun. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons.[Exit Captain, attended.]Enter Ross and ANGUSWho comes here?Mai. The worthy thane of Ross.hen. What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he lookThat seems to speak things strange.Ross. God save the King!Dun. Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane?Ross. From Fife, great king;Where the Norweyan banners flout the skyAnd fan our people cold. Norway himself,With terrible numbers,Assisted by that most disloyal traitor,The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;Till that Bellona's 1 1 bridegroom, lapp'd in proof, 1 2[324]Confronted him with self-comparisons, 1 3Point against point, rebellious arm 'gainst arm,Curbing his lavish 1 4 spirit; and, to conclude,The victory fell on us;—Dun. Great happiness!Ross. That nowSweno, the Norways' king, craves composition; 1 5Nor would we deign him burial of his menTill he disbursed at Saint Colme's inch 1 6Ten thousand dollars to our general use.Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceiveOur bosom interest. 1 7 Go pronounce his present death,And with his former title greet Macbeth.Ross. I'll see it done.Dun. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. Exeunt.
¶Thunder. Enter the three Witches1. Witch. Where hast thou been, sister?2. Witch. Killing swine.3. Witch. Sister, where thou?1. Witch. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd. "Give me!" quoth I."Aroint thee, witch!" the rump-fed ronyon 1 cries.Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger;But in a sieve I'll thither sail,And, like a rat without a tail,I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.2. Witch. I'll give thee a wind.1. Witch. Thou'rt kind.3. Witch. And I another.1. Witch. I myself have all the other,And the very ports they blow,All the quarters that they know[325]I' the shipman's card. 2I'll drain him dry as hay.Sleep shall neither night nor dayHang upon his pent-house 3 lid;He shall live a man forbid. 4Weary sevennights nine times nineShall he dwindle, peak, and pine.Though his bark cannot be lost,Yet it shall be tempest-tost.Look what I have.2. Witch. Show me, show me.i. Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb,Wreck'd as homeward he did come. Drum within.3. Witch. A drum, a drum!Macbeth doth come.All. The weird sisters, hand in hand,Posters of the sea and land,Thus do go about, about;Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,And thrice again, to make up nine.Peace! the charm's wound up.
¶Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.Ban. How far is't call'd to Forres ? What are theseSo wither'd and so wild in their attire,That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aughtThat man may question? You seem to understand me,By each at once her choppy finger layingUpon her skinny lips. You should be women,And yet your beards forbid me to interpretThat you are so.Macb. Speak, if you can. What are you ?1. Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!2. Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor![326]3. Witch. All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter!Ban. Good sir, why do you start, and seem to fearThings that do sound so fair? [To the Witches.] I' the name oftruth,Are ye fantastical, 5 or that indeedWhich outwardly ye show? 6 My noble partnerYou greet with present grace and great predictionOf noble having 7 and of royal hope,That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not.If you can look into the seeds of time,And say which grain will grow and which will not,Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fearYour favours nor your hate.1. Witch. Hail!2. Witch. Hail!3. Witch. Hail!1. Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.2. Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier.3. Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none;So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!1. Witch. Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!Macb. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more.By Sinel's death I know I am thane of Glamis;But how of Cawdor ? The thane of Cawdor lives,A prosperous gentleman; and to be kingStands not within the prospect of beliefNo more than to be Cawdor. Say from whenceYou owe this strange intelligence, or whyUpon this blasted heath you stop our wayWith such prophetic greeting. Speak, I charge you.Witches vanish.Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?Macb. Into the air; and what seem'd corporal meltedAs breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!Ban. Were such things here as we do speak about,[327]Or have we eaten on the insane rootThat takes the reason prisoner?Macb. Your children shall be kings.Ban. You shall be King.Macb. And thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?Ban. To the self-same tune and words. Who's here?
p. 327¶Enter Ross and ANGUSRoss. The King hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,The news of thy success; and when he readsThy personal venture in the rebels' fight,His wonders and his praises do contendWhich should be thine or his. Silenc'd with that,In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day,He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,Strange images of death. As thick as hailCame post with post; and every one did bearThy praises in his kingdom's great defence;And pour'd them down before him.Ang. We are sentTo give thee from our royal master thanks;Only to herald thee into his sight,Not pay thee.Ross. And, for an earnest 8 of a greater honour,He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor;In which addition, 9 hail, most worthy thane!For it is thine.Ban. [Aside.] What, can the devil speak true?Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives; why do you dress meIn borrowed robes?Ang. Who was the thane lives yet;But under heavy judgement bears that lifeWhich he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin'dWith those of Norway, or did line 1 0 the rebel[328]With hidden help and vantage, or that with bothHe labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;But treasons capital, confess'd and prov'd,Have overthrown him.Macb. [Aside.] Glamis, and thane of Cawdor!The greatest is behind. [To Ross and ANGUS.] Thanks forpains.[To BAN.] Do you not hope your children shall be kings,When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to mePromis'd no less to them ?Ban. That trusted home 1 1Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange;And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,The instruments of darkness tell us truths,W in us with honest trifles, to betray'sIn deepest consequence.Cousins, a word, I pray you.Macb. [Aside.] Two truths are told,As happy prologues to the swelling actOf the imperial theme. 1 2—I thank you, gentlemen.[Aside.] This supernatural solicitingCannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill,Why hath it given me earnest of success,Commencing in a truth ? I'm thane of Cawdor.If good, why do I yield to that suggestion 1 3Whose horrid image doth unfix my hairAnd make my seated heart knock at my ribs,Against the use 1 4 of nature ? Present fearsAre less than horrible imaginings.My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, 1 5Shakes so my single state of man 1 6 that function 1 7Is smother'd in surmise, 1 8 and nothing isBut what is not.Ban. Look, how our partner's rapt.[329]Macb. [Aside.] If chance will have me King, why, chance maycrown me,Without my stir.Ban. New honours come upon him,Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mouldBut with the aid of use.Macb. [Aside.] Come what come may,Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. 1 9Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.Macb. Give me your favour; 2 0 my dull brain was wrought 2 1With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your painsAre regist'red where every day I turnThe leaf to read them. Let us toward the King.[To BAN.] Think upon what hath chanc'd, and, at more time,The interim having weigh'd it, let us speakOur free 2 2 hearts each to other.Ban. Very gladly.Macb. Till then, enough. Come, friends. Exeunt.
¶Flourish. Enter DUNCAN , MALCOLM , DONALBAIN, LENNOX , and
¶AttendantsDun. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are notThose in commission 1 yet return'd?Mai. My liege,They are not yet come back. But I have spokeWith one that saw him die; who did reportThat very frankly he confess'd his treasons,Implor'd your Highness' pardon, and set forthA deep repentance. Nothing in his lifeBecame him like the leaving it. He diedAs one that had been studied in his deathTo throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,As 'twere a careless trifle.[330]Dun. There's no artTo find the mind's construction in the face.He was a gentleman on whom I builtAn absolute trust.
¶O worthiest cousin!The sin of my ingratitude even nowWas heavy on me. Thou art so far beforeThat swiftest wing of recompense is slowTo overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserv'd,That the proportion both of thanks and paymentMight have been mine! Only I have left to say,More is thy due than more than all can pay.Macb. The service and the loyalty I owe,In doing it, pays itself. Your Highness' partIs to receive our duties; and our dutiesAre to your throne and state children and servants,Which do but what they should, by doing everythingSafe toward 2 your love.and honour.Dun. Welcome hither!I have begun to plant thee, and will labourTo make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,That hast no less deserv'd, nor must be knownNo less to have done so, let me infold theeAnd hold thee to my heart.Ban. There if I grow,The harvest is your own.Dun. My plenteous joys,Wanton 3 in fulness, seek to hide themselvesIn drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes,And you whose places are the nearest, knowWe will establish our estate uponOur eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafterThe Prince of Cumberland; which honour mustNot unaccompanied invest him only,[331]But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shineOn all deservers. From hence to Inverness,And bind us further to you.Macb. The rest is labour, which is not us'd for you.I'll be myself the harbinger 4 and make joyfulThe hearing of my wife with your approach;So humbly take my leave.Dun. My worthy Cawdor!Macb. [Aside.] The Prince of Cumberland! That is a stepOn which I must fall down, or else o'erleap,For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires;Let not light see my black and deep desires;The eye wink 5 at the hand; yet let that beWhich the eye fears, when it is done, to see. Exit.Dun. True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant,And in his commendations I am fed;It is a banquet to me. Let's after him,Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome.It is a peerless kinsman. Flourish. Exeunt.
¶Enter LADY MACBETH, alone, with a letterLady M. [Reads.] "They met me in the day of success; and I havelearn'd by the perfect'st report, they have more in them than mortalknowledge. When I burn'd in desire to question them further, theymade themselves air, into which they vanish'd. Whiles I stood raptin the wonder of it, came missives from the King, who all-hail'd me'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title, before, these weird sisters 1 salutedme, and referr'd me to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, King thatshalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearestpartner of greatness, that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing,by being ignorant of what greatness is promis'd thee. Lay it to thyheart, and farewell."Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt beWhat thou art promis'd. Yet do I fear thy nature;[332]It is too full o' the milk of human kindnessTo catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great,Art not without ambition, but withoutThe illness 2 should attend it. What thou wouldst highly,That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou 'dst have, great Glamis,That which cries, "Thus thou must do, if thou have it;"And that which rather thou dost fear to doThan wishest should be undone. Hie thee hitherThat I may pour my spirits in thine ear,And chastise with the valour of my tongueAll that impedes thee from the golden round*Which fate and metaphysical 4 aid doth seemTo have thee crown'd withal.
p. 332¶Enter a MessengerWhat is your tidings ?Mess. The King comes here to-night.Lady M. Thou 'rt mad to say it!Is not thy master with him ? who, were't so,Would have inform'd for preparation.Mess. So please you, it is true; our thane is coming.One of my fellows had the speed of him,Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely moreThan would make up his message.Lady M. Give him tending;He brings great news. Exit Messenger.The raven himself is hoarseThat croaks the fatal entrance of DuncanUnder my battlements. Come, you spiritsThat tend on mortal 5 thoughts, unsex me here,And fill me from the crown to the toe top-fullOf direst cruelty! Make thick my blood;Stop up the access and passage to remorse, 6That no compunctious visitings of nature 7[333]Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace betweenThe effect and it! Come to my woman's breastsAnd take 8 my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers,Wherever in your sightless 9 substancesYou wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,And pall 1 0 thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the darkTo cry, "Hold, hold!"
p. 333¶Enter MACBETHGreat Glamis! worthy Cawdor!Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!Thy letters have transported me beyondThis ignorant present, and I feel nowThe future in the instant.Macb. My dearest love,Duncan comes here to-night.Lady M. And when goes hence?Macb. To-morrow, as he purposes.Lady M. O, neverShall sun that morrow see!Your face, my thane, is as a book where menMay read strange matters. To beguile the time, 1 1Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower,But be the serpent under't. He that's comingMust be provided for; and you shall putThis night's great business into my dispatch,Which shall to all our nights and days to comeGive solely sovereign sway and masterdom.Macb. We will speak further.Lady M. Only look up clear;To alter favour 1 2 ever is to fear.Leave all the rest to me. Exeunt.[334]SCENE VI. [Before Macbeth's castle]Hautboys and torches. Enter DUNCAN , MALCOLM, DONALBAIN,
¶Dun. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the airNimbly and sweetly recommends itselfUnto our gentle 1 senses.Ban. This guest of summer,The temple-haunting martlet, 2 does approve,By his loved masonry, that the heaven's breathSmells wooingly here; no jutty, 3 frieze,Buttress, nor coign 4 of vantage, but this birdHath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle.Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'dThe air is delicate.
Enter LADY MACBETH
¶Dun. See, see, our honour'd hostess!The love that follows us sometime is our trouble,Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach youHow you shall bid God 'eild 5 us for your pains,And thank us for your trouble.Lady M. All our serviceIn every point twice done and then done doubleWere poor and single 6 business to contendAgainst those honours deep and broad wherewithYour Majesty loads our house. For those of old,And the late dignities heap'd up to them,We rest your hermits. 7Dun. Where's the thane of Cawdor?We cours'd him at the heels, and had a purposeTo be his purveyor; 8 but he rides well,And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp himTo his home before us. Fair and noble hostess,We are your guest to-night.[335]Lady M. Your servants everHave theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt, 9To make their audit at your Highness' pleasure,Still to return your own.Dun. Give me your hand;Conduct me to mine host. We love him highly,And shall continue our graces towards him.By your leave, hostess. Exeunt.
¶Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers Servants withdishes and service, over the stage. Then enter MACBETH
¶Macb. If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere wellIt were done quickly. If the assassinationCould trammel 1 up the consequence, and catchWith his surcease 2 success; that but this blowMight be the be-all and the end-all here,But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,We'd jump 3 the life to come. But in these casesWe still 4 have judgement here, that we but teachBloody instructions, which, being taught, returnTo plague the inventor. This even-handed justiceCommends 5 the ingredients of our poison'd chaliceTo our own lips. He's here in double trust:First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,Who should against his murderer shut the door,Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this DuncanHath borne his faculties 6 so meek, hath beenSo clear 7 in his great office, that his virtuesWill plead like angels, trumpet-tongu'd, againstThe deep damnation of his taking-off;And pity, like a naked new-born babe[336]Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin hors'dUpon the sightless couriers of the air,Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spurTo prick the sides of my intent, but onlyVaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itselfAnd falls on the other—
Enter LADY MACBETH
¶How now! what news?Lady M. He has almost supp'd. Why have you left the chamber?Macb. Hath he ask'd for me?Lady M. Know you not he has?Macb. We will proceed no further in this business.He hath honour'd me of late; and I have boughtGolden opinions from all sorts of people,Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,Not cast aside so soon.Lady M. Was the hope drunkWherein you dress'd yourself? Hath it slept since?And wakes it now, to look so green and paleAt what it did so freely ? From this timeSuch I account thy love. Art thou afeardTo be the same in thine own act and valourAs thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have thatWhich thou esteem'st the ornament of life,And live a coward in thine own esteem,Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would,"Like the poor cat i' the adage?1Macb. Prithee, peace II dare do all that may become a man;Who dares do more is none.Lady M. What beast was't, then,That made you break this enterprise to me?When you durst do it, then you were a man;And, to be more than what you were, you would[337]Be so much more the man. Nor time nor placeDid then adhere, 9 and yet you would make both.They have made themselves, and that their fitness nowDoes unmake you. I have given suck, and knowHow tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me;I would, while it was smiling in my face,Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gumsAnd dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as youHave done to this.Macb. If we should fail?Lady M. We fail!But screw your courage to the sticking-place,And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep—Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journeySoundly invite him—his two chamberlainsWill I with wine and wassail 1 0 so convince 1 1That memory, the warder of the brain,Shall be a fume, and the receipt 1 2 of reasonA limbeck 1 3 only. When in swinish sleep 'Their drenched 1 4 natures lie as in a death,What cannot you and I perform uponThe unguarded Duncan ? what not put uponHis spongy officers, who shall bear the guiltOf our great quell? 1 5Macb. Bring forth men-children only;For thy undaunted mettle should composeNothing but males. Will it not be receiv'd, 1 6When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy twoOf his own chamber, and us'd their very daggers,That they have done't?Lady M. Who dares receive it other,As we shall make our griefs and clamour roarUpon his death?Macb. I am settled, and bend upEach corporal agent to this terrible feat.[338]Away, and mock the time with fairest show;False face must hide what the false heart doth know. Exeunt.
Act II
¶SCENE I. [Within Macbeth's castle]
¶Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE with a torch before himBan. How goes the night, boy ?Fie. The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.Ban. And she goes down at twelve.Fie. I take't, 'tis later, sir.Ban. Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry 1 in heaven;Their candles are all out. Take thee that too.A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers,Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that natureGives way to in repose!
¶Enter MACBETH, and a Servant with a torchGive me my sword.Who's there?Macb. A friend.Ban. What, sir, not yet at rest? The King's a-bed.He hath been in unusual pleasure, andSent forth great largess to your offices. 2This diamond he greets your wife withal,By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up 3In measureless content.Macb. Being unprepar'd,Our will became the servant to defect; 4Which else should free have wrought.Ban. All's well.I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:To you they have show'd some truth.[339]Macb. I think not of them;Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,We would spend it in some words upon that business,If you would grant the time.Ban. At your kind'st leisure.Macb. If you shall cleave to my consent, 5 when 'tis, 6It shall make honour for you.Ban. So I lose noneIn seeking to augment it, but still keepMy bosom franchis'd 7 and allegiance clear,I shall be counsell'd.Macb. Good repose the while!Ban. Thanks, sir; the like to you!
p. 339¶Exeunt BANQUO [and FLEANCE ] .
¶Macb. Go bid thy mistress, when my drink 8 is ready,She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. Exit [Servant].Is this a dagger which I see before me,The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee.I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.Art thou not, fatal 9 vision, sensibleTo feeling as to sight ? or art thou butA dagger of the mind, a false creation,Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ?I see thee yet, in form as palpableAs this which now I draw.Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going,And such an instrument I was to use.Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,Or else worth all the rest. 1 0 I see thee still,And on thy blade and dudgeon 1 1 gouts 1 2 of blood,Which was not so before. There's no such thing.It is the bloody business which informs 1 3Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-worldNature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse"The curtain'd sleep. Witchcraft celebrates[340]Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his designMoves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm set earth,Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fearThy very stones prate of my whereabout,And take the present horror 1 5 from the time,Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives:Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. A bell rings.I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knellThat summons thee to heaven or to hell. Exit.
Scene IIEnter LADY MACBETH
¶Lady M. That which hath made them drunk hath made mebold;What hath quench'd them hath given me fire. Hark! Peace!It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it.The doors are open; and the surfeited groomsDo mock their charge with snores. I have drugg'd their possets, 1That death and nature do contend about them,Whether they live or die.
¶Enter MACBETHMacb. Who's there? What, ho!Lady M. Alack, I am afraid they have awak'd,And 'tis not done. The attempt and not the deed 2Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready;He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembledMy father as he slept, I had done't.—My husband!Macb. I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?[341]Lady M. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.Did not you speak ?Macb. When?Lady M. Now .Macb. As I descended?Lady M. Ay .Macb. Hark!Who lies i' the second chamber?Lady M. Donalbain.Macb. This is a sorry sight. [Lookjng on his hands.]Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.Macb. There's one did laugh in ' s sleep, and one cried "Murder!"That they did wake each other. I stood and heard them;But they did say their prayers, and address'd themAgain to sleep.Lady M. There are two lodg'd together.Macb. One cried, "God bless us!" and "Amen" the other,As they had seen me with these hangman's hands.Listening their fear, I could not say "Amen,"When they did say, "God bless us!"Lady M. Consider it not so deeply.Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce "Amen" ?I had most need of blessing, and "Amen"Stuck in my throat.Lady M. These deeds must not be thoughtAfter these ways; so, it will make us mad.Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! Macbethdoes murder sleep,"—the innocent sleep,Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave 3 of care,The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,Chief nourisher in life's feast,—Lady M. What do you mean?Macb. Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" to all the house;"Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore CawdorShall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more."
p. 341¶' Tangled raw silk.[342]Lady M. Who was it that thus cried ? Why, worthy thane,You do unbend your noble strength, to thinkSo brainsickly of things. Go get some water,And wash this filthy witness from your hand.Why did you bring these daggers from the place?They must lie there. Go carry them; and smearThe sleepy grooms with blood.Macb. I'll go no more.I am afraid to think what I have done;Look on ' t again I dare not.Lady M. Infirm of purpose!Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the deadAre but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhoodThat fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,I'll gild 4 the faces of the grooms withal;For it must seem their guilt. Exit. Knocking within.Macb. Whence is that knocking?How is ' t with me, when every noise appalls me?What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine eyes.Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this bloodClean from my hand? No , this my hand will ratherThe multitudinous seas incarnadine, 5Making the green one red.
¶Re-enter LADY MACBETH
¶Lady M. My hands are of your colour; but I shameTo wear a heart so white. (Knocking.) I hear a knockingAt the south entry. Retire we to our chamber.A little water clears us of this deed;How easy is it, then! Your constancyHath left you unattended. (Knocking.) Hark! more knocking.Get on your nightgown, 6 lest occasion call usAnd show us to be watchers. Be not lostSo poorly in your thoughts.Macb. To know my deed, 't were best not know myself.Knocking.Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst! Exeunt.
¶Enter a Porter. Knocking within
¶Porter. Here's a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning 1 the key. (Knocking.) Knock, knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of Beelzebub? Here's a farmer, that hang'd himself on the expectation of plenty. 2 Come in time; have napkins enow about you; here you'll sweat for't. (Knocking.) Knock, knock! Who's there, in the other devil's name? Faith, here's an equivocator, that could swear in both the scales against either scale; who committed treason enough for God's sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven. O, come in, equivocator. (Knocking.) Knock, knock, knock! Who's there? Faith, here's an English tailor come hither, for stealing 3 out of a French hose. Come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose. (Knocking.) Knock, knock; never at quiet! What are you? But this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter it no further. I had thought to have let in some of all professions that go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire. (Knockjng.) Anon, anon. I pray you, remember the porter.
¶[Opens the gate.]
¶Enter MACDUFF and LENNOX
¶Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
¶That you do lie so late?
¶Port. Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock; and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.
¶Macd. What three things does drink especially provoke?
¶Port. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance; therefore, much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.
¶Macd. I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.
p. 344¶Port. That it did, sir, i' the very throat on me. But I requited himfor his lie; and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took upmy legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him.
¶Enter MACBETHMacd. Is thy master stirring?Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes.hen. Good morrow, noble sir.Macb. Good morrow, both.Macd. Is the King stirring, worthy thane?Macb. Not yet.Macd. He did command me to call timely 4 on him.I have almost slipp'd the hour.Macb. I'll bring you to him.Macd. I know this is a joyful trouble to you;But yet 'tis one.Macb. The labour we delight in physics pain.This is the door.Macd. I'll make so bold to call,For 'tis my limited 5 service. [Exit.hen. Goes the King hence to-day?Macb. He does;—he did appoint so.hen. The night has been unruly. Where we lay,Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say,Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death,And prophesying with accents terribleOf dire combustion 6 and confus'd eventsNew hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure birdClamour'd the livelong night; some say, the earthWas feverous and did shake.Macb. 'Twas a rough night.hen. My young remembrance cannot parallelA fellow to it.Re-enter MACDUFFMacd. O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heartCannot conceive nor name thee![345]Macb.. f What's the matter?LenMacd. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!Most sacrilegious murder hath broke opeThe Lord's anointed temple, and stole thenceThe life o' the building!Macb. What is ' t you say? The life?Len. Mean you his Majesty?Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy your sightWith a new Gorgon. 7 Do not bid me speak;See, and then speak yourselves. Exeunt MACBETH and LENNOX.Awake, awake!Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason!Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,And look on death itself! Up, up, and seeThe great doom's 8 image! Malcolm! Banquo!As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,To countenance this horror. Ring the bell. Bell rings.
Enter LADY MACBETH
¶Lady M. What's the business,That such a hideous trumpet calls to parleyThe sleepers of the house? Speak, speak!Macd. O gentle lady,'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak;The repetition in a woman's earWould murder as it fell.Enter BANQUOO Banquo, Banquo,Our royal master's murder'd!Lady M. Woe, alas!What, in our house?Ban. Too cruel anywhere.Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself,And say it is not so.[346]Re-enter MACBETH and LENNOX, with RossMacb. Had I but died an hour before this chance,I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant,There's nothing serious in mortality. 9All is but toys; 1 0 renown and grace is dead;The wine of life is drawn, and the mere leesIs left this vault to brag of.
Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN
¶Don. What is amiss?Macb. You are, and do not know't.The spring, the head, the fountain of your bloodIs stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.Macd. Your royal father's murder'd.Mai. O, by whom?Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done't.Their hands and faces were all badg'd 1 1 with blood;So were their daggers, which unwip'd we foundUpon their pillows.They star'd, and were distracted; no man's lifeWas to be trusted with them.Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury,That I did kill them.Macd. Wherefore did you so ?Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate and furious,Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man.The expedition 1 2 of my violent loveOutrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan,His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood,And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in natureFor ruin's wasteful entrance; there, the murderers,Steeped in the colours of their trade, their daggersUnmannerly breech'd 1 3 with gore. Who could refrain,That had a heart to love, and in that heartCourage to make's love known?[347]Lady M. Help me hence, ho!Macd. Look to the lady.Mai. [Aside to DON . ] Why do we hold our tongues,That most may claim this argument 1 4 for ours ?Don. [Aside to MAL . ] What should be spoken here, where our fate,Hid in an auger-hole, may rush and seize us ?Let's away;Our tears are not yet brew'd.Mal. [Aside to DON . ] Nor our strong sorrowUpon the foot of motion. 1 5Ban. Look to the lady;
p. 347¶[ LADY MACBETH is carried out.]
¶And when we have our naked frailties 1 6 hid,That suffer in exposure, let us meetAnd question 1 7 this most bloody piece of work,To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us.In the great hand of God I stand, and thenceAgainst the undivulg'd pretence 1 81 fightOf treasonous malice.Macd. And so do I.All. So all.Macb. Let's briefly put on manly readiness, 1 9And meet i' the hall together.All. Well contented.
¶Exeunt [all but MALCOLM and DONALBAIN ] .
¶Mal. What will you do? Let's not consort with them;To show an unfelt sorrow is an officeWhich the false man does easy. I'll to England.Don. To Ireland, I; our separated fortuneShall keep us both the safer. Where we are,There's daggers in men's smiles; the near 2 0 in blood,The nearer bloody.Mal. This murderous shaft that's shotHath not yet lighted, and our safest wayIs to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse;[348]And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,But shift away. There's warrant in that theftWhich steals itself, when there's no mercy left. [Exeunt.
¶Enter Ross and an Old ManOld M. Threescore and ten I can remember well;Within the volume of which time I have seenHours dreadful and things strange; but this sore nightHath trifled 1 former knowings.Ross. Ah , good father,Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man's act,Threatens his bloody stage. By the clock 'tis day,And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp. 2Is't night's predominance or the day's shameThat darkness does the face of earth entomb,When living light should kiss it ?Old M. 'Tis unnatural,Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place,Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.Ross. And Duncan's horses—a thing most strange and certain—Beauteous and swift, the minions 3 of their race,Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would makeWar with mankind.Old M. 'Tis said they eat each other.Ross. They did so, to the amazement of mine eyesThat look'd upon't.Enter MACDUFFHere comes the good Macduff.How goes the world, sir, now?Macd. Why, see you not ?Ross. Is't known who did this more than bloody deed ?[349]Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slain.Ross. Alas, the day!What good could they pretend? 4Macd. They were suborn'd.Malcolm and Donalbain, the King's two sons,Are stolen away and fled; which puts upon themSuspicion of the deed.Ross. 'Gainst nature still!Thriftless ambition, that will ravin up 5Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most likeThe sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to SconeTo be invested.Ross. Where is Duncan's body ?Macd. Carried to Colmekill,The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,And guardian of their bones.Ross. Will you to Scone?Macd. No , cousin, I'll to Fife.Ross. Well, I will thither.Macd. Well, may you see things well done there,—adieu!Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!Ross. Farewell, father.Old M. God's benison go with you; and with thoseThat would make good of bad, and friends of foes!
Act III
¶SCENE I. [Forres. The palace]
¶Enter BANQUOBan. Thou hast it now: King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,As the weird women promis'd, and, I fear,Thou play'dst most foully for't: yet it was saidIt should not stand in thy posterity,But that myself should be the root and father[350]Of many kings. If there come truth from them—As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine 1—Why, by the verities on thee made good,May they not be my oracles as well,And set me up in hope? But hush! no more.
p. 350¶Sennet sounded. Enter MACBETH, as King, LADY [MACBETH, asQueen], LENNOX, ROSS, Lords, [Ladies,] and ServantsMacb. Here's our chief guest.Lady M. If he had been forgotten,It had been as a gap in our great feast,And all-thing 2 unbecoming.Macb. To-night we hold a solemn supper, sir,And I'll request your presence.Ban. Let your HighnessCommand upon me; to the which my dutiesAre with a most indissoluble tieFor ever knit.Macb. Ride you this afternoon ?Ban. Ay , my good lord.Macb. We should have else desir'd your good advice,Which still hath been both grave and prosperous,In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow.Is't far you ride?Ban. As far, my lord, as will fill up the time'Twixt this and supper. Go not my horse the better, 3I must become a borrower of the nightFor a dark hour or twain.Macb. Fail not our feast.Ban. My lord, I will not.Macb. We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'dIn England and in Ireland, not confessingTheir cruel parricide, filling their hearersWith strange invention. But of that to-morrow,When therewithal we shall have cause of stateCraving us jointly. Hie you to horse; adieu,Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you?[351]Ban. Ay, my good lord. Our time does call upon's.Macb. I wish your horses swift and sure of foot;And so I do commend you to their backs.Farewell. Exit BANQUO.Let every man be master of his timeTill seven at night. To make societyThe sweeter welcome, we will keep ourselfTill supper-time alone; while 4 then, God be with you!Exeunt [all but MACBETH, and a Servant].Sirrah, a word with you. Attend those menOur pleasure?Serv. They are, my lord, without the palace gate.Macb. Bring them before us. (Exit Servant.)To be thus is nothing;But to be safely thus. Our fears in BanquoStick deep; and in his royalty of natureReigns that which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares;And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valourTo act in safety. There is none but heWhose being I do fear; and, under him,My Genius is rebuk'd, as, it is said,Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sistersWhen first they put the name of king upon me,And bade them speak to him; then prophet-likeThey hail'd him father to a line of kings.Upon my head they plac'd a fruitless crown,And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand,No son of mine succeeding. If't be so,For Banquo's issue have I fil'd 5 my mind;For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd;Put rancours in the vessel of my peaceOnly for them; and mine eternal jewel 6Given to the common enemy of man,To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings!Rather than so, come fate into the list,[352]And champion me to the utterance! 7 Who's there?
p. 352¶Re-enter Servant, with two MurderersNow go to the door, and stay there till we call. Exit Servant.Was it not yesterday we spoke together?[i.] Mur. It was, so please your Highness.Macb. Well then, nowHave you consider'd of my speeches? KnowThat it was he in the times past which held youSo under fortune, which you thought had beenOur innocent self. This I made good to youIn our last conference, pass'd in probation 8 with you,How you were borne in hand, 9 how cross'd, the instruments,Who wrought with them, and all things else that mightTo half a soul and to a notion 1 0 craz'dSay, "Thus did Banquo."i. Mur. You made it known to us.Macb. I did so, and went further, which is nowOur point of second meeting. Do you findYour patience so predominant in your natureThat you can let this go ? Are you so gospell'd"To pray for this good man and for his issue,Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the graveAnd beggar'd yours for ever ?i. Mur. We are men, my liege.Macb. Ay , in the catalogue ye go for men,As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,Shoughs, 1 2 water-rugs, 1 3 and demi-wolves, are cleptAll by the name of dogs; the valued file 1 4Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,The housekeeper, the hunter, every oneAccording to the gift which bounteous natureHath in him clos'd; whereby he does receiveParticular addition, 1 5 from the billThat writes them all alike; and so of men.[353]Now, if you have a station in the file,Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say't;And I will put that business in your bosoms,Whose execution takes your enemy off,Grapples you to the heart and love of us,Who wear our health but sickly in his life,Which in his death were perfect.2. Mur. I am one, my liege,Whom the vile blows and buffets of the worldHath so incens'd that I am reckless whatI do to spite the world.1. Mur. And I anotherSo weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,That I would set my life on any chance,To mend it, or be rid on't.Macb. Both of youKnow Banquo was your enemy.[Both] Mur. True, my lord.Macb. So is he mine; and in such bloody distance, 1'That every minute of his being thrustsAgainst my near'st of life, 1 7 and though I couldWith barefac'd power sweep him from my sightAnd bid my will avouch it, 1 8 yet I must not,For certain friends that are both his and mine,Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fallWho I myself struck down; and thence it is,That I to your assistance do make love,Masking the business from the common eyeFor sundry weighty reasons.2. Mur. We shall, my lord,Perform what you command us.i. Mur. Though our lives—Macb. Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at mostI will advise 1 9 you where to plant yourselves;Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time,The moment on ' t ; for't must be done to-night,[354]And something from the palace; always thoughtThat I require a clearness: 2 0 and with him—To leave no rubs 2 1 nor botches 2 2 in the work—Fleance his son, that keeps him company,Whose absence is no less material to meThan is his father's, must embrace the fateOf that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart;I'll come to you anon.[BofA] Mur. We are resolv'd, my lord.Macb. I'll call upon you straight; abide within.[Exeunt Murderers.]It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight,If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. Exit.
¶Enter LADY MACBETH and a ServantLady M. Is Banquo gone from court?Serv. Ay , madam, but returns again to-night.Lady M. Say to the King, I would attend his leisureFor a few words.Serv. Madam, I will. Exit.Lady M. Nought's had, all's spent,Where our desire is got without content.'Tis safer to be that which we destroyThan by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
¶Enter MACBETHHow now, my lord! why do you keep alone,Of sorriest fancies your companions making,Using those thoughts which should indeed have diedWith them they think on ? Things without all remedyShould be without regard; what's done is done.Macb. We have scotch'd 1 the snake, not kill'd it;She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice[355]Remains in clanger of her former tooth.But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer,Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleepIn the affliction of these terrible dreamsThat shake us nightly. Better be with the deadWhom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,Than on the torture of the mind to lieIn restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.Treason has done his worst; nor steel, nor poison,Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,Can touch him further.Lady M. Come on,Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night.Macb. So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you.Let your remembrance apply to Banquo;Present him eminence, 2 both with eye and tongue.Unsafe the while, that weMust lave our honours in these flattering streams,And make our faces vizards to our hearts,Disguising what they are.Lady M. You must leave this.Macb. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!Thou know'st that Banquo and his Fleance lives.Lady M. But in them nature's copy's 3 not eterne.Macb. There's comfort yet; they are assailable.Then be thou jocund; ere the bat hath flownHis cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summonsThe shard-borne 4 beetle with his drowsy humsHath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be doneA deed of dreadful note.Lady M. What's to be done ?Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling 5 night,[356]Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day,And with thy bloody and invisible handCancel and tear to pieces that great bondWhich keeps me pale! Light thickens, and the crowMakes wing to the rooky wood;Good things of day begin to droop and drowse,Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse.Thou marvell'st at my words, but hold thee still;Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.So, prithee, go with me. Exeunt.
¶Enter three Murderers1. Mur. But who did bid thee join with us?3. Mur. Macbeth.2. Mur. He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers 1Our offices and what we have to doTo the direction just.1. Mur. Then stand with us;The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.Now spurs the lated traveller apaceTo gain the timely inn; and near approachesThe subject of our watch.3. Mur. Hark! I hear horses.Ban. (Within.) Give us a light there, ho!2. Mur. Then 'tis he; the restThat are within the note of expectation 2Already are i' the court.1. Mur. His horses go about.3. Mur. Almost a mile; but he does usually,So all men do, from hence to the palace gateMake it their walk.
¶Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE with a torch2. Mur. A light, a light!3. Mur. 'Tis he.[357]i. Mur. Stand to't.Ban. It will be rain to-night.i. Mur. Let it come down.[They set upon BANQUO.]Ban. O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!Thou mayst revenge. O slave! [Dies. FLEANCE escapes.]3. Mur. Who did strike out the light ?1. Mur. Was ' t not the way?3. Mur. There's but one down; the son is fled.2. Mur. We have lostBest half of our affair.1. Mur. Well, let's away, and say how much is done. Exeunt.
¶A banquet prepar'd. Enter MACBETH, LADY MACBETH, Ross, LENNOX,Lords, and AttendantsMacb. You know your own degrees; sit down. At firstAnd last, the hearty welcome.Lords. Thanks to your Majesty.Macb. Ourself will mingle with societyAnd play the humble host.Our hostess keeps her state, 1 but in best timeWe will require her welcome.Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends,For my heart speaks they are welcome.
¶First Murderer [appears at the door]Macb. See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.Both sides are even; here I'll sit i' the midst.Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measureThe table round. [Approaching the door.]—There's blood upon thy face.Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then.Macb. 'Tis better thee without than he within.Is he dispatch'd?[358]Mur. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.Macb. Thou art the best o' the cut-throats; yet he's goodThat did the like for Fleance. If thou didst it,Thou art the nonpareil. 2Mur. Most royal sir,Fleance is scap'd.Macb. Then comes my fit again. I had else been perfect,Whole as the marble, founded as the rock,As broad and general as the casing air;But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound inTo saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe ?Mur. Ay , my good lord; safe in a ditch he bides,With twenty trenched gashes on his head,The least a death to nature.Macb. Thanks for that;There the grown serpent lies. The worm 3 that's fledHath nature that in time will venom breed,No teeth for the present. Get thee gone; to-morrowWe'll hear ourselves again. 4 Exit Murderer.LadyM. My royal lord,You do not give the cheer. The feast is soldThat is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a-making,'Tis given with welcome. To feed were best at home;From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony;Meeting were bare without it.
p. 358¶Enter the Ghost of BANQUO, and sits in MACBETH'S placeMacb. Sweet remembrancer!Now, good digestion wait on appetite,And health on both!hen. May ' t please your Highness sit.1 Macb. Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present,Who may I rather challenge for unkindnessThan pity for mischance.[359]Ross. His absence, sir,Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your HighnessTo grace us with your royal company ?Macb. The table's full.Len. Here is a place reserv'd, sir.Macb. Where?Len. Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your Highness?Macb. Which of you have done this ?Lords. What, my good lord?Macb. Thou canst not say I did it; never shakeThy gory locks at me.Ross. Gentlemen, rise: his Highness is not well.Lady M. Sit, worthy friends; my lord is often thus,And hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep seat;The fit is momentary; upon a thoughtHe will again be well. If much you note him,You shall offend him and extend his passion. 5Feed, and regard him not. [Aside to MACBETH.]Are you a man?Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on thatWhich might appall the devil.Lady M. [Aside to MACBETH.] O proper 6 stuff!This is the very painting of your fear;This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws 7 and starts,Impostors to 8 true fear, would well becomeA woman's story at a winter's fire,Authoriz'd 9 by her grandam. Shame itself!Why do you make such faces ? When all's done,You look but on a stool.Macb. Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you?Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.If charnel-houses and our graves must sendThose that we bury back, our monuments 1 0Shall be the maws of kites. [Ghost vanishes^[360]Lady M. [Aside to MACBETH.] What, quite unmann'd in folly?Macb. If I stand here, I saw him.Lady M. [Aside to MACBETH.] Fie, for shame!Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,Ere humane statute purg'd the gentle weal; 1 1Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'dToo terrible for the ear. The time has been,That, when the brains were out, the man would die,And there an end; but now they rise again,With twenty mortal murders 1 2 on their crowns,And push us from our stools. This is more strangeThan such a murder is.Lady M. My worthy lord,Your noble friends do lack you.Macb. I do forget.Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends;I have a strange infirmity, which is nothingTo those that know me. Come, love and health to all;Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine; fill full.
p. 360¶Re-enter GhostI drink to the general joy o' the whole table,And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;Would he were here! to all and him we thirst,And all to all.Lords. Our duties, and the pledge.Macb. Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee!Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;Thou hast no speculation 1 3 in those eyesWhich thou dost glare with!Lady M. Think of this, good peers,But as a thing of custom; 'tis no other,Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.Macb. What man dare, I dare.Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger;[361]Take any shape but that, and my firm nervesShall never tremble. Or be alive again,And dare me to the desert with thy sword;If trembling I inhabit 1 4 then, protest meThe baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!Unreal mockery, hence! [Ghost vanishes.}Why, so; being gone,I am a man again. Pray you, sit still.Lady M. You have displac'd the mirth, broke the good meeting,With most admir'd 1 5 disorder.Macb. Can such things be,And overcome 1 6 us like a summer's cloud,Without our special wonder? You make me strange 1 7Even to the disposition that I owe,When now I think you can behold such sights,And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,When mine is blanch'd with fear.Ross. What sights, my lord?Lady M. I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse;Question enrages him. At once, good-night.Stand not upon the order of your going,But go at once.Len. Good-night; and better healthAttend his Majesty!Lady M. A kind good-night to all! Exeunt Lords.Macb. It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood.Stones have been known to move and trees to speak;Augures 1 8 and understood 1 9 relations haveBy maggot-pies and choughs 2 0 and rooks brought forthThe secret'st man of blood. What is the night?Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which is which.Macb. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his personAt our great bidding?Lady M. Did you send to him, sir ?Macb. I hear it by the way; but I will send.
p. 361¶" Continue ( ? ) . Clothe myself in ( ? ) . 1 5 Producing wonder.[362]There's not a one of them but in his houseI keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow,And betimes I will, to the weird sisters.More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know,By the worst means, the worst. For mine own goodAll causes shall give way. I am in bloodStepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,Returning were as tedious as go o'er.Strange things I have in head, that will to hand,Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.Lady M. You lack the season 2 1 of all natures, sleep.Macb. Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse 22Is the initiate fear that wants hard use;We are yet but young in deed. Exeunt.
¶Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting HECATE1. Witch. Why , how now, Hecate! you look angerly.Hec. Have I not reason, beldams 2 as you are,Saucy and overbold ? How did you dareTo trade and traffic with MacbethIn riddles and affairs of death;And I, the mistress of your charms,The close 3 contriver of all harms,Was never call'd to bear my part,Or show the glory of our art ?And, which is worse, all you have doneHath been but for a wayward son,Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do,Loves for his own ends, not for you.But make amends now; get you gone,And at the pit of AcheronMeet me i' the morning; thither heWill come to know his destiny.[363]Your vessels and your spells provide,Your charms and everything beside.I am for the air; this night I'll spendUnto a dismal and a fatal end;Great business must be wrought ere noon.Upon the corner of the moonThere hangs a vaporous drop profound;I'll catch it ere it come to ground;And that distill'd by magic sleightsShall raise such artificial spritesAs by the strength of their illusionShall draw him on to his confusion.He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bearHis hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear;And, you all know, security 4Is mortals' chiefest enemy. Music, and a songHark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see,Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Exit.](Sing within: "Come away, come away," etc.1. Witch. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.Exeunt.
¶Enter LENNOX and another LordLen. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,Which can interpret farther; only, I say,Things have been strangely borne. 1 The gracious DuncanWas pitied of Macbeth; marry, he was dead:And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;Whom, you may say, if ' t please you, Fleance kill'd,For Fleance fled; men must not walk too late.Who cannot want 2 the thought how monstrousIt was for Malcolm and for DonalbainTo kill their gracious father? Damned fact!How it did grieve Macbeth! Did he not straight[364]In pious rage the two delinquents tear,That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep ?Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too;For 'twould have anger'd any heart aliveTo hear the men deny't. So that, I say,He has borne all things well; and I do thinkThat had he Duncan's sons under his key—As, an't please Heaven, he shall not—they should findWhat 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance.But, peace! for from broad 3 words, and 'cause he fail'dHis presence at the tyrant's feast, I hearMacduff lives in disgrace. Sir, can you tellWhere he bestows himself?Lord. The son of Duncan,From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,Lives in the English court, and is receiv'dOf the most pious Edward with such graceThat the malevolence of Fortune nothingTakes from his high respect. Thither MacduffIs gone to pray the holy king, upon his aidTo wake Northumberland and warlike Siward;That, by the help of these—with Him aboveTo ratify the work—we may againGive to our tables meat, sleep to our nights,Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives,Do faithful homage and receive free honours;All which we pine for now: and this reportHath so exasperate their king that hePrepares for some attempt of war.Len. Sent he to Macduff?Lord. He did; and with 4 an absolute "Sir, not I,"The cloudy messenger turns me his back,And hums, as who should say, "You'll rue the timeThat clogs me with this answer."Len. And that well mightAdvise him to a caution, to hold what distance[365]His wisdom can provide. Some holy angelFly to the court of England and unfoldHis message ere he come, that a swift blessingMay soon return to this our suffering countryUnder a hand accurs'd!Lord. I'll send my prayers with him. Exeunt.
Act IV
¶SCENE I. [A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron]
¶Thunder. Enter the three Witches1. Witch. Thrice the brinded 1 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 cauldron go ;In the poison'd entrails throw.Toad, that under cold stoneDays and nights has thirty-oneSwelt'red 2 venom sleeping got,Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.All. Double, double, toil and trouble;Fire burn and cauldron bubble.2. Witch. Fillet of a fenny 3 snake,In the cauldron boil and bake;Eye of newt 4 and toe of frog,Wool of bat and tongue of dog,Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,Lizard's leg and howlet's wing,For a charm of powerful trouble,Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.All. Double, double, toil and trouble;Fire burn and cauldron bubble.3. Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,Witches' mummy, 5 maw and gulf 6[366]Of the ravin'd 7 salt-sea shark,Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,Liver of blaspheming Jew,Gall of goat, and slips of yewSliver'd in the moon's eclipse,Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,Finger of birth-strangled babeDitch-deliver'd by a drab,Make the gruel thick and slab. 8Add thereto a tiger's chaudron, 9For the ingredients of our cauldron.All. Double, double, toil and trouble;Fire burn and cauldron bubble.2. Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood,Then the charm is firm and good.
p. 366¶Enter HECATE to the other three WitchesHec. O , well done! I commend your pains;And every one shall share i' the gains.And now about the cauldron sing,Like elves and fairies in a ring,Enchanting all that you put in.Music and a song: "Black spirits," etc. [HECATE retires.]2. Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs,Something wicked this way comes.Open, locks,Whoever knocks!
¶Enter MACBETHMacb. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!What is't you do ?All. A deed without a name.Macb. I conjure you, by that which you profess,Howe'er you come to know it, answer me!Though you untie the winds and let them fightAgainst the churches; though the yesty waves[367]Confound and swallow navigation up;Though bladed corn be lodg'd 1 0 and trees blown down;Though castles topple on their warders' heads;Though palaces and pyramids do slopeTheir heads to their foundations; though the treasureOf nature's germens 1 1 tumble all together,Even till destruction sicken; answer meTo what I ask you.1. Witch. Speak.2. Witch. Demand.3. Witch. We'll answer.1. Witch. Say, if thou 'dst rather hear it from our mouths,Or from our master's?Macb. Call 'em; let me see 'em.1. Witch. Pour in sow's blood, that hath eatenHer nine farrow; 1 2 grease that's sweatenFrom the murderer's gibbet throwInto the flame.All. Come, high or low;Thyself and office deftly show!
p. 367¶Thunder. First Apparition, an armed HeadMacb. Tell me, thou unknown power,—1. Witch. He knows thy thought.Hear his speech, but say thou nought.1. App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough. Descends.Macb. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;Thou hast harp'd my fear aright. But one word more,—1. Witch. He will not be commanded. Here's another,More potent than the first.
¶Thunder. Second Apparition, a bloody Child2. App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee.2. App. Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn[368]The power of man; for none of woman bornShall harm Macbeth. Descends.Macb. Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee?But yet I'll make assurance double sure,And take a bond of fate. Thou shalt not live;That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,And sleep in spite of thunder.
p. 368¶Thunder. Third Apparition, a Child crowned,with a tree in his handWhat is thisThat rises like the issue of a king,And wears upon his baby-hrow the roundAnd top of sovereignty?All. Listen, but speak not to't.3. App. Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no careWho chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are.Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be untilGreat Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hillShall come against him. . Descends.Macb. That will never be.Who can impress 1 3 the forest, bid the treeUnfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! 1 4 good!Rebellion's head, rise never till the woodOf Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd MacbethShall live the lease of nature, pay his breathTo time and mortal custom. Yet my heartThrobs to know one thing: tell me, if your artCan tell so much, shall Banquo's issue everReign in this kingdom?All. Seek to know no more.Macb. I will be satisfied! Deny me this,And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.Why sinks that cauldron? And what noise is this? Hautboys.1. Witch. Show!2. Witch. Show![369]3. Witch. Show!All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;Come like shadows, so depart!
p. 369¶A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand;BANQUO'S Ghost followingMacb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down!Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. 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 the crack of doom?Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more.And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glassWhich shows me many more; and some I seeThat twofold balls and treble sceptres carry.Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true;For the blood-bolter'd 1 5 Banquo smiles upon me,And points at them for his. [Apparitions vanish.] What, isthis so?1. Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so; but whyStands Macbeth thus amazedly?Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,And show the best of our delights.I'll charm the air to give a sound,While you perform your antic round;That this great king may kindly say,Our duties did his welcome pay.Music. The Witches dance, and vanish {with HECATE],Macb. Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hourStand aye accursed in the calendar!Come in, without there!
¶Enter LENNOXhen. What's your Grace's will?Macb. Saw you the weird sisters?[370]Len. No, my lord.Macb. Came they not by you?Len. No , indeed, my lord.Macb. Infected be the air whereon they ride;And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hearThe galloping of horse; who was't came by?Len. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you wordMacduff is fled to England.Macb. Fled to England!Len. Ay , my good lord.Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits:The flighty 1 6 purpose never is o'ertookUnless the deed go with it. From this momentThe very firstlings of my heart shall beThe firstlings of my hand. And even now,To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done.The castle of Macduff I will surprise;Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the swordHis wife, his babes, and all unfortunate soulsThat trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;This deed I'll do before this purpose cool.But no more sights!—Where are these gentlemen?Come, bring me where they are. Exeunt.
¶Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and Ross
¶L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the land ?Ross. You must have patience, madam.L. Macd. He had none;His flight was madness. When our actions do not,Our fears do make us traitors.Ross. You know notWhether it was his wisdom or his fear.L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,His mansion and his titles, 1 in a placeFrom whence himself does fly ? He loves us not,[371]He wants the natural touch; for the poor wren,The most diminutive of birds, will fight,Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.All is the fear and nothing is the love;As little is the wisdom, where the flightSo runs against all reason.Ross. My dearest coz,I pray you, school yourself; but for your husband,He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knowsThe fits1 o' the season. I dare not speak much further;But cruel are the times when we are traitorsAnd do not know ourselves; when we hold rumourFrom what we fear, yet know not what we fear,But float upon a wild and violent seaEach way and move. I take my leave of you;Shall not be long but I'll be here again.Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upwardTo what they were before. My pretty cousin,Blessing upon you!L.Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.Ross. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,It would be my disgrace and your discomfort.I take my leave at once.L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead;And what will you do now? How will you live?Son. As birds do, mother.L.Macd. What, with worms and flies?Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they.L. Macd. Poor bird! thou 'dst never fear the net nor lime,The pitfall nor the gin.Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.My father is not dead, for all your saying.L. Macd. Yes, he is dead. How wilt thou do for a father ?Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband?L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet, i' faith,[372]With wit enough for thee.Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?L. Macd. Ay , that he was.Son. What is a traitor ?L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.Son. And be all traitors that do so ?L. Macd. Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hang'd.Son. And must they all be hang'd that swear and lie ?L. Macd. Every one.Son. Who must hang them?L. Macd. Why, the honest men.Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools; for there are liars andswearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them.L. Macd. Now , God help thee, poor monkey!But how wilt thou do for a father?Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him; if you would not, itwere a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.L. Macd. Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!
p. 372¶Enter a MessengerMess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,Though in your state of honour I am perfect.1I doubt some danger does approach you nearly.If you will take a homely man's advice,Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;To do worse to you were fell cruelty,Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!I dare abide no longer. Exit.L. Macd. Whither should I fly?I have done no harm. But I remember nowI am in this earthly world, where to do harmIs often laudable, to do good sometimeAccounted dangerous folly. Why then, alas,Do I put up that womanly defence,To say I have done no harm?[373]Enter MurderersWhat are these faces?[i.] Mur. Where is your husband?L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctifiedWhere such as thou may'st find him.[i.] Mur. He's a traitor.Son. Thou liest, thou shag-ear'd villain![i.] Mur. What, you egg![Stabbing him.}Young fry of treachery!Son. He has kill'd me, mother:Run away, I pray you! [Dies.]Exit [LADY MACDUFF] crying "Murder!" [ExeuntMurderers, following her.]
¶Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF
¶Mal. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and thereWeep our sad bosoms empty.Macd. Let us ratherHold fast the mortal sword, and like good menBestride our down-fallen birthdom.1 Each new mornNew widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrowsStrike heaven on the face, that it resoundsAs if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd outLike syllable of dolour.Mal. What I believe I'll wail,What know believe, and what I can redress,As I shall find the time to friend, I will.What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,Was once thought honest; you have lov'd him well.He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but somethingYou may deserve of him through me, and wisdom[374]To offer up a weak poor innocent lambTo appease an angry god.Macd. I am not treacherous.Mai. But Macbeth is.A good and virtuous nature may recoilIn an imperial charge. 2 But I shall crave your pardon;That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose.Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,Yet grace must still look so.Macd. I have lost my hopes.Mai. Perchance even there where I did find my doubts.Why in that rawness 3 left you wife and child,Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,Without leave-taking? I pray you,Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just,Whatever I shall think.Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country!Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure,For goodness dare not check thee; wear thou thy wrongs;The title is affeer'd! 4 Fare thee well, lord:I would not be the villain that thou think'stFor the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,And the rich East to boot.Mai. Be not offended;I speak not as in absolute fear of you.I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gashIs added to her wounds. I think withalThere would be hands uplifted in my right;And here from gracious England have I offerOf goodly thousands. But, for all this,When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor countryShall have more vices than it had before,[375]More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,By him that shall succeed.Macd. What should he be?Mal. It is myself I mean; in whom I knowAll the particulars of vice so graftedThat, when they shall be open'd, black MacbethWill seem as pure as snow, and the poor stateEsteem him as a lamb, being compar'dWith my confineless 5 harms.Macd. Not in the legionsOf horrid hell can come a devil more damn'dIn evils to top Macbeth.Mal. I grant him bloody,Luxurious, 6 avaricious, false, deceitful,Sudden, 7 malicious, smacking of every sinThat has a name; but there's no bottom, none,In my voluptuousness. Your wives, your daughters,Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill upThe cistern of my lust, and my desireAll continent 8 impediments would o'erbearThat did oppose my will. Better MacbethThan such an one to reign.Macd. Boundless intemperanceIn nature is a tyranny; it hath beenThe untimely emptying of the happy throneAnd fall of many kings. But fear not yetTo take upon you what is yours. You mayConvey 9 your pleasures in a spacious plenty,And yet seem cold; the time 1 0 you may so hoodwink.We have willing dames enough; there cannot beThat vulture in you, to devour so manyAs will to greatness dedicate themselves,Finding it so inclin'd.Mal. With this there growsIn my most ill-compos'd affection 1 1 such[376]A stanchless 1 2 avarice that, were I King,I should cut off the nobles for their lands,Desire his jewels and this other's house;And my more-having would be as a sauceTo make me hunger more, that I should forgeQuarrels unjust against the good and loyal,Destroying them for wealth.Macd. This avariceSticks deeper, grows with more pernicious rootThan summer-seeming 1 3 lust, and it hath beenThe sword of our slain kings. Yet do not fear;Scotland hath foisons 1 4 to fill up your will,Of your mere own. All these are portable, 1 5With other graces weigh'd. 1 6Mai. But I have none. The king-becoming graces,As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,I have no relish 1 7 of them, but aboundIn the division of each several crime,Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I shouldPour the sweet milk of concord into hell,Uproar the universal peace, confoundAll unity on earth.Macd. O Scotland, Scotland!Mai. If such an one be fit to govern, speak.I am as I have spoken.Macd. Fit to govern!No, not to live. O nation miserable,With an untitled 1 8 tyrant bloody-sceptred,When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,Since that the truest issue of thy throneBy his own interdiction stands accurs'd,And does blaspheme 1 9 his breed ? Thy royal fatherWas a most sainted king; the queen that bore thee,[377]Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,Died every day she liv'd. Fare thee well!These evils thou repeat'st upon thyselfHath banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,Thy hope ends here!Mal. Macduff, this noble passion,Child of integrity, hath from my soulWip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughtsTo thy good truth and honour. Devilish MacbethBy many of these trains 2 0 hath sought to win meInto his power, and modest 2 1 wisdom plucks meFrom over-credulous haste. But God aboveDeal between thee and me! for even nowI put myself to thy direction, andUnspeak mine own detraction; here abjureThe taints and blames I laid upon myself,For strangers to my nature. I am yetUnknown to woman, never was forsworn,Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,At no time broke my faith, would not betrayThe devil to his fellow, and delightNo less in truth than life; my first false speakingWas this upon myself. What I am truly,Is thine and my poor country's to command;Whither indeed, before thy here-approach,Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,Already at a point, 2 2 was setting forth.Now we'll together; and the chance of goodnessBe like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once'Tis hard to reconcile.
p. 377¶Enter a DoctorMal. Well; more anon.—Comes the King forth, I pray you?Doct. Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched soulsThat stay his cure. Their malady convinces 2 3[378]The great assay of art; 2 4 but at his touch—Such sanctity hath Heaven given his hand—They presently 2 5 amend.Mai. I thank you, doctor. [Exit Doctor.Macd. What's the disease he means ?Mai. 'Tis call'd the evil:A most miraculous work in this good king;Which often, since my here-remain in England,I have seen him do. How he solicits Heaven,Himself best knows; but strangely-visited 2 6 people,All swollen and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,The mere despair of surgery, he cures,Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,Put on with holy prayers; and 'tis spoken,To the succeeding royalty he leavesThe healing benediction. With this strange virtue,He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,And sundry blessings hang about his throne,That speak him full of grace.
p. 378¶Enter RossMacd. See, who comes here?Mai. My countryman; but yet I know him not.Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.Mai. I know him now. Good God, betimes 2 7 removeThe means that makes us strangers!Ross. Sir, amen.Macd. Stands Scotland where it did ?Ross. Alas, poor country!Almost afraid to know itself. It cannotBe call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the airAre made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seemsA modern ecstasy. 2 8 The dead man's knell[379]Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's livesExpire before the flowers in their caps,Dying or ere they sicken.Macd. O, relationToo nice, 2 9 and yet too true!Mal. What's the newest grief?Ross. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker; 3 0Each minute teems 3 1 a new one.Macd. How does my wife?Ross. Why, well.Macd. And all my children ?Ross. Well too.Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace ?Ross. No ; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; how goes't?Ross. When I came hither to transport the tidings,Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumourOf many worthy fellows that were out; 3 2Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot.Now is the time of help; your eye in ScotlandWould create soldiers, make our women fight,To doff their dire distresses.Mal. Be ' t their comfortWe're coming thither. Gracious England hathLent us good Siward and ten thousand men;An older and a better soldier noneThat Christendom gives out.Ross. Would I could answerThis comfort with the like! But I have wordsThat would be howl'd out in the desert air,Where hearing should not latch 3 3 them.Macd. What concern they ?The general cause? Or is it a fee-grief 3 4Due to some single breast?[380]Ross. No mind that's honestBut in it shares some woe; though the main partPertains to you alone.Macd. If it be mine,Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.Ross. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,Which shall possess them with the heaviest soundThat ever yet they heard.Macd. Hum ! I guess at it.Ross. Your castle is surpris'd; your wife and babesSavagely slaughter'd. To relate the manner,Were, on the quarry 3 5 of these murder'd deer,To add the death of you.Mai. Merciful heaven!What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speakWhispers the o'er-fraught 3 6 heart and bids it break.Macd. My children too?Ross. Wife, children, servants, allThat could be found.Macd. And I must be from thence!My wife kill'd too?Ross. I have said.Mai. Be comforted.Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,To cure this deadly grief.Macd. He has no children.—All my pretty ones?Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?What, all my pretty chickens and their damAt one fell swoop ?Mai. Dispute 3 7 it like a man.Macd. I shall do so;But I must also feel it as a man.I cannot but remember such things were,That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,[381]They were all struck for thee! Naught 3 8 that I am,Not for their own demerits, but for mine,Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now!Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword; let griefConvert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyesAnd braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens,Cut short all intermission. Front to frontBring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;Within my sword's length set him; if he scape,Heaven forgive him too!Mal. This tune goes manly.Come, go we to the King; our power is ready;Our lack is nothing but our leave. 3 3 MacbethIs ripe for shaking, and the powers abovePut on 4 0 their instruments. Receive what cheer you may;The night is long that never finds the day. Exeunt.
Act V
¶SCENE I. [Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle]
¶Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting Gentlewoman
¶Doct. I have two nights watch'd with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walk'd ?
¶Gent. Since his Majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon 't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.
¶Doct. A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching! 1 In this slumb'ry agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say ?
¶Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her.
¶Doct. You may to me: and 'tis most meet you should.
¶Gent. Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech.
¶Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life,fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.Doct. How came she by that light?Gent. Why, it stood by her. She has light by her continually;'tis her command.Doct. You see, her eyes are open.Gent. Ay , but their sense are shut.Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seem thus washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of anhour.Lady M. Yet here's a spot.Doct. Hark! she speaks. I will set down what comes from her, tosatisfy my remembrance the more strongly.Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say!—One: two: why, then'tis time to do't.—Hell is murky!—Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, andafeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call ourpower to account?—Yet who would have thought the old man tohave had so much blood in him ?Doct. Do you mark that?Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now?—What,will these hands ne'er be clean ?—No more o' that, my lord, no moreo' that; you mar all with this starting.Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that;Heaven knows what she has known.Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still; all the perfumes ofArabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh!Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charg'd. 2Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignityof the whole body.Doct. Well, well, well,—Gent. Pray God it be, sir.Doct. This disease is beyond my practice; yet I have known those
¶s Burdened.[383]which have walk'd in their sleep who have died holily in their beds.Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not sopale.—I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come outon's grave.Doct. Even so?Lady M. To bed, to bed! there's knocking at the gate. Gome,come, come, come, give me your hand. What's done cannot beundone.—To bed, to bed, to bed! Exit.Doct. Will she go now to bed?Gent. Directly.Doct. Foul whisp'rings are abroad; unnatural deedsDo breed unnatural troubles; infected mindsTo their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.More needs she the divine than the physician.God, God, forgive us all! Look after her;Remove from her the means of all annoyance, 3And still keep eyes upon her. So, good-night!My mind she has mated, 4 and amaz'd my sight.I think, but dare not speak.Gent. Good-night, good doctor. Exeunt.
¶SCENE II. [The country near Dunsinane]
¶Drum and colours. Enter MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX,
¶and SoldiersMent. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff.Revenges burn in them; for their dear 5 causesWould to the bleeding and the grim alarmExcite the mortified man. 6Ang. Near Birnam woodShall we well meet them; that way are they coming.Caith. Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?Len. For certain, sir, he is not; I have a file 7Of all the gentry. There is Siward's son,[384]And many unrough 8 youths that even nowProtest 9 their first of manhood.Ment. What does the tyrant?Caith. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies.Some say he's mad, others that lesser hate himDo call it valiant fury; but, for certain,He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause 1 0Within the belt of rule.Ang. Now does he feelHis secret murders sticking on his hands;Now minutely 1 1 revolts upbraid his faith-breach;Those he commands move only in command,Nothing in love. Now does he feel his titleHang loose about him, like a giant's robeUpon a dwarfish thief.Ment. Who then shall blameHis pester'd 1 2 senses to recoil and start,When all that is within him does condemnItself for being there ?Caith. Well, march we onTo give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd.Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal,And with him pour we in our country's purgeEach drop of us.hen. Or so much as it needsTo dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds.Make we our march towards Birnam. Exeunt, marching.
p. 384¶SCENE III. [Dunsinane. A room in the castle]Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and AttendantsMacb. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all;Till Birnam wood remove to DunsinaneI cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?Was he not born of woman ? The spirits that know[385]All mortal 1 consequences have pronounc'd me thus:"Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of womanShall e'er have power upon thee." Then fly, false thanes,And mingle with the English epicures!The mind I sway by and the heart I bearShall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.
p. 385¶Enter a ServantThe devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon! 2Where got'st thou that goose look ?Serv. There is ten thousand—Macb. Geese, villain ?Serv. Soldiers, sir.Macb. Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch? 3Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thineAre counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face ?Serv. The English force, so please you.Macb. Take thy face hence. [Exit Servant.]Seyton!—I am sick at heartWhen I behold—Seyton, I say!—This push 4Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.I have liv'd long enough. My way of lifeIs fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf;And that which should accompany old age,As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,I must not look to have; but, in their stead,Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breathWhich the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.Seyton!
¶Enter SEYTON
¶Sey. What's your gracious pleasure?Macb. What news more?Sey. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.[386]Macb. I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.Give me my armour.Sey. 'Tis not needed yet.Macb. I'll put it on.Send out moe 5 horses; skirr 6 the country round;Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.How does your patient, doctor?Doct. Not so sick, my lord,As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,That keep her from her rest.Macb. Cure her of that.Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd,Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,Raze out the written troubles of the brain,And with some sweet oblivious 7 antidoteCleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuffWhich weighs upon the heart?Doct. Therein the patientMust minister to himself.Macb. Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff.Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, castThe water 8 of my land, find her disease,And purge it to a sound and pristine 9 health,I would applaud thee to the very echo,That should applaud again.—Pull't off, I say.—What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug,Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?Doct. Ay , my good lord; your royal preparationMakes us hear something.Macb. Bring it after me.I will not be afraid of death and bane, 1 0Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.[387]Doct. [Aside.] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,Profit again should hardly draw me here. Exeunt.SCENE IV. [Country near Birnam wood]Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, old SIWARD and his Son,
p. 387¶MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS , [ LENNOX , Ross,]
¶and Soldiers, marching
¶Mal. Cousins, I hope the days are near at handThat chambers will be safe.Ment. We doubt it nothing.Siw. What wood is this before us ?Ment. The wood of Birnam.Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a boughAnd bear't before him; thereby shall we shadowThe numbers of our host and make discovery 1Err in report of us.Soldiers. It shall be done.Siw. We learn no other but the confident tyrantKeeps still in Dunsinane, and will endureOur setting down before 2 't.Mal. 'Tis his main hope;For where there is advantage to be given,Both more and less 3 have given him the revolt,And none serve with him but constrained thingsWhose hearts are absent too.Macd. Let our just censures 4Attend the true event, and put we onIndustrious soldiership.Siw. The time approachesThat will with due decision make us knowWhat we shall say we have and what we owe.Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate,But certain issue strokes must arbitrate;Towards which advance the war. Exeunt, marching.[388]SCENE V . [Dunsinane. Within the castle]
p. 388¶Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum and coloursMacb. Hang out our banners on the outward walls;The cry is still, "They come!" Our castle's strengthWill laugh a siege to scorn; here let them lieTill famine and the ague eat them up.Were they not forc'd 1 with those that should be ours,We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,And beat them backward home. A cry of women within.What is that noise?Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. [Exit.]Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears.The time has been, my senses would have cool'dTo hear a night-shriek, and my fell 2 of hairWould at a dismal treatise 3 rouse and stirAs life were in't. I have supp'd full with horrors;Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,Cannot once start me.
¶[Re-enter SEYTON]
¶Wherefore was that cry?Sey. The Queen, my lord, is dead.Macb. She should have died hereafter;There would have been a time for such a word.To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to dayTo the last syllable of recorded time;And all our yesterdays have lighted foolsThe way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!Life's but a walking shadow, a poor playerThat struts and frets his hour upon the stageAnd then is heard no more. It is a taleTold by an idiot, full of sound and fury,Signifying nothing.[389]Enter a MessengerThou corn'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.Mess. Gracious my lord,I should report that which I say I saw,But know not how to do it.Macb. Well, say, sir.Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill,I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,The wood began to move.Macb. Liar and slave!Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if ' t be not so.Within this three mile may you see it coming;I say, a moving grove.Macb. If thou speak'st false,Upon the next tree shall thou hang alive,Till famine cling1 thee; if thy speech be sooth,I care not if thou dost for me as much.I pull in resolution, and beginTo doubt the equivocation of the fiendThat lies like truth. "Fear not, till Birnam woodDo come to Dunsinane;" and now a woodComes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!If this which he avouches does appear,There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.I gin to be aweary of the sun,And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!At least we'll die with harness on our back. Exeunt.
¶Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, old SIWARD, MACDUFF, and theirArmy, with boughsMal. Now near enough; your leavy screens throw down,And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle,Shall, with my cousin, your right noble son,[390]Lead our first battle. 1 Worthy Macduff and weShall take upon's what else remains to do,According to our order.Siw. Fare you well.Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,Those clamorous harbingers 2 of blood and death.Exeunt. Alarums continued.
p. 390¶SCENE VII . [The same]Enter MACBETHMacb. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,But, bear-like, I must fight the course. 3 What's heThat was not born of woman? Such a oneAm I to fear, or none.
¶Enter young SIWARDY. Siw. What is thy name?Macb. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.Y . Siw. No ; though thou call'st thyself a hotter nameThan any is in hell.Macb. My name's Macbeth.Y . Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a titleMore hateful to mine ear.Macb. No , nor more fearful.Y . Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my swordI'll prove the lie thou speak'st.They fight and young SIWARD is slain.Macb. Thou wast born of woman.But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. Exit.
¶Alarums. Enter MACDUFFMacd. That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face!If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine,[391]My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.I cannot strike at wretched kerns, 4 whose armsAre hir'd to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth,Or else my sword with an unbattered edgeI sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;By this great clatter, one of greatest noteSeems bruited. 5 Let me find him, Fortune!And more I beg not. Exit. Alarums.
¶Siw. This way, my lord; the castle's gently rend'red: 8The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;The noble thanes do bravely in the war;The day almost itself professes yours,And little is to do.Mal. We have met with foesThat strike beside us. 7Siw. Enter, sir, the castle. [Exeunt. Alarums.
¶SCENE VIII . [ The same]
¶Enter MACBETHMacb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and dieOn mine own sword ? Whiles I see lives, the gashesDo better upon them.
¶Enter MACDUFFMacd. Turn, hell-hound, turn!Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee.But get thee back; my soul is too much charg'dWith blood of thine already.Macd. I have no words,My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villainThan terms' can give thee out! They fight. Alarum.[392]Macb. Thou losest labour.As easy mayst thou the intrenchant 2 airWith thy keen sword impress as make me bleed.Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;I bear a charmed life, which must not yieldTo one of woman born.Macd. Despair thy charm;And let the angel whom thou still hast serv'dTell thee, Macduff was from his mother's wombUntimely ripp'd.Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,For it hath cow'd my better part of man!And be these juggling fiends no more believ'dThat palter with us in a double sense,That keep the word of promise to our ear,And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.Macd. Then yield thee, coward,And live to be the show and gaze o' the time.We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,Painted upon a pole, 3 and underwrit,"Here may you see the tyrant."Macb. I will not yield,To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feetAnd to be baited with the rabble's curse.Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born,Yet I will try the last. Before my bodyI throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!"Exeunt, fighting. Alarums.
p. 392¶Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, oldSIWARD, Ross, the other Thanes, and Soldiers
¶Mai. I would the friends we miss were safe arriv'd.Siw. Some must go off; 4 and yet, by these I see,[393]So great a day as this is cheaply bought.Mal. Macduff is missing, and your noble son.Ross. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt.He only liv'd but till he was a man;The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'dIn the unshrinking station where he fought,But like a man he died.Siw. Then he is dead?Ross. Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrowMust not be measur'd by his worth, for thenIt hath no end.Siw. Had he his hurts before?Ross. Ay, on the front.Siw. Why then, God's soldier be he!Had I as many sons as I have hairs,I would not wish them to a fairer death.And so, his knell is knoll'd.Mal. He's worth more sorrow,And that I'll spend for him.Siw. He's worth no more.They say he parted well, and paid his score;And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.
¶Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art. Behold, where standsThe usurper's cursed head. The time is free.I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,That speak my salutation in their minds;Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:Hail, King of Scotland!All. Hail, King of Scotland! Flourish.Mal. We shall not spend a large expense of timeBefore we reckon with your several loves,And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,Henceforth be earls, the first that ever ScotlandIn such an honour nam'd. What's more to do,Which would be planted newly with the time,[394]As calling home our exil'd friends abroadThat fled the snares of watchful tyranny;Producing forth the cruel ministersOf this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent handsTook off her life; this, and what needful elseThat calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,We will perform in measure, time, and place.So, thanks to all at once and to each one,Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone. Flourish. Exeunt.