In order to make a true estimate of the abilities and merit of a
writer, it is always necessary to examine the genius of his age, and
the opinions of his contemporaries. A poet who should now make
the whole action of his tragedy depend upon enchantment, and
produce the chief events by the assistance of supernatural agents,
would be censured as transgressing the bounds of probability, be
banished from the theatre to the nursery, and condemned to write
fairy tales instead of tragedies; but a survey of the notions that
prevailed at the time when this play was written, will prove that
Shakspeare was in no danger of such censures, since he only
turned the system that was then universally admitted, to his advantage,
and was far from overburdening the credulity of his
audience.
The reality of witchcraft or enchantment, which, though not
strictly the same, are confounded in this play, has in all ages and
countries been credited by the common people, and in most, by
the learned themselves. The phantoms have indeed appeared
more frequently, in proportion as the darkness of ignorance has
been more gross; but it cannot be shown, that the brightest
gleams of knowledge have at any time been sufficient to drive them
out of the world. The time in which this kind of credulity was
at its height, seems to have been that of the holy war, in which the
Christians imputed all their defeats to enchantments or diabolical
opposition, as they ascribed their success to the assistance of their
military saints; and the learned Dr. Warburton appears to believe
(Supplement to the Introduction to Don Quixote) that the first
accounts of enchantments were brought into this part of the world
by those who returned from their eastern expeditions. But there
is always some distance between the birth and maturity of folly as
of wickedness: this opinion had long existed, though perhaps the
application of it had in no foregoing age been so frequent, nor the
reception so general. Olympiodorus, in Photius's Extracts, tells
us of one Libanius, who practised this kind of military magic, and
having promised &grx;&grwa;&grr;&gri;&grst; &gror;&grp;&grl;&gri;&grt;&grwc;&grn; &grk;&gra;&grt;&grag; &grb;&gra;&grr;&grb;&graa;&grr;&grw;&grn; &gres;&grn;&gre;&grr;&grg;&gre;&gric;&grn;, to perform
great things against the Barbarians without soldiers, was, at the
instance of the empress Placida, put to death, when he was about
to have given proofs of his abilities. The empress showed some
kindness in her anger, by cutting him off at a time so convenient
for his reputation.
-- 4 --
But a more remarkable proof of the antiquity of this notion may
be found in St. Chrysostom's book de Sacerdotio, which exhibits a
scene of enchantments not exceeded by any romance of the middle
age: he supposes a spectator overlooking a field of battle attended
by one that points out all the various objects of horror, the engines
of destruction, and the arts of slaughter. &grD;&gre;&gri;&grk;&grn;&grua;&grt;&gro; &grd;&greg; &gresa;&grt;&gri; &grp;&gra;&grr;&grag;
&grt;&gro;&gric;&grst; &grer;&grn;&gra;&grn;&grt;&gria;&gro;&gri;&grst; &grk;&gra;&grig; &grp;&gre;&grt;&gro;&grm;&grea;&grn;&gro;&gru;&grst; &grirg;&grp;&grp;&gro;&gru;&grst; &grd;&gri;&graa; &grt;&gri;&grn;&gro;&grst; &grm;&gra;&grg;&grg;&gra;&grn;&gre;&gria;&gra;&grst;, &grk;&gra;&grig; &gror;&grp;&grl;&gria;&grt;&gra;&grst;
&grd;&gris; &gras;&grea;&grr;&gro;&grst; &grf;&gre;&grr;&gro;&grm;&grea;&grn;&gro;&gru;&grst;, &grk;&gra;&grig; &grp;&graa;&grs;&grh;&grn; &grg;&gro;&grh;&grt;&gre;&gria;&gra;&grst; &grd;&grua;&grn;&gra;&grm;&gri;&grn; &grk;&gra;&grig; &gris;&grd;&gre;&gra;&grn;. “Let him
then proceed to show him in the opposite armies horses flying by
enchantment, armed men transported through the air, and every
power and form of magic.” Whether St. Chrysostom believed
that such performances were really to be seen in a day of battle,
or only endeavoured to enliven his description, by adopting the
notions of the vulgar, it is equally certain, that such notions were
in his time received, and that therefore they were not imported
from the Saracens in a later age; the wars with the Saracens
however gave occasion to their propagation, not only as bigotry
naturally discovers prodigies, but as the scene of action was removed to a great distance.
The reformation did not immediately arrive at its meridian, and
though day was gradually increasing upon us, the goblins of witchcraft
still continued to hover in the twilight. In the time of
Queen Elizabeth was the remarkable trial of the witches of Warbois,
whose conviction is still commemorated in an annual sermon
at Huntingdon. But in the reign of King James, in which this
tragedy was written, many circumstances concurred to propagate
and confirm this opinion. The King, who was much celebrated
for his knowledge, had, before his arrival in England, not only examined
in person a woman accused of witchcraft, but had given a
very formal account of the practices and illusions of evil spirits,
the compacts of witches, the ceremonies used by them, the manner
of detecting them, and the justice of punishing them, in his dialogues
of Dæmonologie, written in the Scottish dialect, and published
at Edinburgh. This book was, soon after his succession,
reprinted at London, and as the ready way to gain King James's
favour was to flatter his speculations, the system of Dæmonologie
was immediately adopted by all who desired either to gain preferment
or not to lose it. Thus the doctrine of witchcraft was very
powerfully inculcated; and as the greatest part of mankind have
no other reason for their opinions than that they are in fashion, it
cannot be doubted but this persuasion made a rapid progress,
since vanity and credulity co-operated in its favour. The infection
soon reached the parliament, who, in the first year of King
James, made a law, by which it was enacted, chap. xii. That “if
any person shall use any invocation or conjuration of any evil or
wicked spirit; 2. or shall consult, covenant with, entertain, employ,
feed or reward any evil or cursed spirit to or for any intent
-- 5 --
or purpose; 3. or take up any dead man, woman, or child, out of
the grave,—or the skin, bone, or any part of the dead person, to
be employed or used in any manner of witchcraft, sorcery, charm,
or enchantment; 4. or shall use, practise, or exercise any sort of
witchcraft, sorcery, charm, or enchantment; 5. whereby any person
shall be destroyed, killed, wasted, consumed, pined, or lamed
in any part of the body; 6. That every such person being convicted
shall suffer death.” This law was repealed in our own
time.
Thus, in the time of Shakspeare, was the doctrine of witchcraft
at once established by law and by the fashion, and it became not
only unpolite, but criminal, to doubt it; and as prodigies are always
seen in proportion as they are expected, witches were every day
discovered, and multiplied so fast in some places, that Bishop
Hall mentions a village in Lancashire,* note where their number was
greater than that of the houses. The jesuits and sectaries took
advantage of this universal error, and endeavoured to promote the
interest of their parties by pretended cures of persons afflicted by
evil spirits; but they were detected and exposed by the clergy of
the established church.
Upon this general infatuation Shakspeare might be easily
allowed to found a play, especially since he has followed with
great exactness such histories as were then thought true; nor
can it be doubted that the scenes of enchantment, however they
may now be ridiculed, were both by himself and his audience
thought awful and affecting.
Johnson.
In the concluding paragraph of Dr. Johnson's admirable introduction
to this play, he seems apprehensive that the fame of
Shakspeare's magic may be endangered by modern ridicule. I
shall not hesitate, however, to predict its security, till our national
taste is wholly corrupted, and we no longer deserve the first
of all dramatic enjoyments; for such, in my opinion at least, is
the tragedy of Macbeth.
Steevens.
Malcolm II. King of Scotland, had two daughters. The eldest
was married to Crynin, the father of Duncan, Thane of the Isles,
and western parts of Scotland; and on the death of Malcolm,
without male issue, Duncan succeeded to the throne. Malcolm's
-- 6 --
second daughter was married to Sinel, Thane of Glamis, the father
of Macbeth. Duncan, who married the daughter* note of Siward,
Earl of Northumberland, was murdered by his cousin german,
Macbeth, in the castle of Inverness, according to Buchanan, in
the year 1040; according to Hector Boethius, in 1045. Boethius,
whose History of Scotland was first printed in seventeen books, at
Paris, in 1526, thus describes the event which forms the basis of
the tragedy before us; “Makbeth, be persuasion of his wyfe,
gaderit his friendis to ane counsall at Invernes, quhare kyng Duncane
happennit to be for ye tyme. And because he fand sufficient
opportunitie, be support of Banquho and otheris his friendis, he
slew kyng Duncane, the vii zeir of his regne.” After the murder
of Duncan, Macbeth “come with ane gret power to Scone, and
tuk the crowne.” Chroniclis of Scotland, translated by John
Bellenden, folio, 1541. Macbeth was himself slain by Macduff
in the year 1061, according to Boethius; according to Buchanan,
in 1057; at which time King Edward the Confessor possessed the
throne of England. Holinshed copied the history of Boethius,
and on Holinshed's relation Shakspeare formed his play.
In the reign of Duncan, Banquo having been plundered by the
people of Lochabar of some of the king's revenues, which he had
collected, and being dangerously wounded in the affray, the persons
concerned in this outrage were summoned to appear at a
certain day. But they slew the serjeant at arms who summoned
them, and chose one Macdowald as their captain. Macdowald
speedily collected a considerable body of forces from Ireland and
the Western Isles, and in one action gained a victory over the
king's army. In this battle Malcolm, a Scottish nobleman, who
was (says Boethius) “Lieutenant to Duncan in Lochaber,” was
slain. Afterwards Macbeth and Banquo were appointed to the
command of the army; and Macdowald being obliged to take
refuge in a castle in Lochaber, first slew his wife and children,
and then himself. Macbeth, on entering the castle, finding his
dead body, ordered his head to be cut off, and carried to the king,
at the castle of Bertha, and his body to be hung on a high tree.
At a subsequent period, in the last year of Duncan's reign,
Sueno, King of Norway, landed a powerful army in Fife, for the
purpose of invading Scotland. Duncan immediately assembled
an army to oppose him, and gave the command of two divisions
of it to Macbeth and Banquo, putting himself at the head of a
third. Sueno was successful in one battle, but in a second was
routed; and, after a great slaughter of his troops, he escaped
with ten persons only, and fled back to Norway. Though there
was an interval of time between the rebellion of Macdowald and
-- 7 --
the invasion of Sueno, our author has woven these two actions
together, and immediately after Sueno's defeat the present play
commences.
It is remarkable that Buchanan has pointed out Macbeth's history
as a subject for the stage. “Multa his fabulose quidam
nostrorum affingunt; sed, quia theatris aut Milesiis fabulis sunt
aptiora quam historiæ, ea omitto.” Rerum Scot. Hist. l. vii. But
there was no translation of Buchanan's work till after our author's
death.
This tragedy was written, I believe, in the year 1606. See
the notes at the end; and An Attempt to ascertain the Order of
Shakspeare's Plays, vol. ii.
Malone.
-- 8 --
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Duncan, King of Scotland:
Malcolm, his Son.
Donalbain, his Son.
Macbeth, General of the King's Army.
Banquo, General of the King's Army.
Macduff, A Nobleman of Scotland.
Lenox [Lennox], A Nobleman of Scotland.
Rosse [Ross], A Nobleman of Scotland.
Menteth [Menteith], A Nobleman of Scotland.
Angus, A Nobleman of Scotland.
Cathness [Caithness], A Nobleman of Scotland.
Fleance, Son to Banquo.
Siward, Earl of Northumberland, General of the English Forces:
Young Siward, his Son.
Seyton, an Officer attending on Macbeth.
Son to Macduff [Boy].An English Doctor. A Scotch Doctor.A Soldier. A Porter. An old Man.Lady Macbeth1note
.
Lady Macduff.
Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth.Hecate, and three Witches [Witch 1], [Witch 2], [Witch 3]2note.
Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, Attendants, and Messengers.The Ghost of Banquo, and several other Apparitions [Apparition 1], [Apparition 2], [Apparition 3].[Attendant], [Servant], [Murderer 1], [Murderer 2], [Murderer 3], [Witches], [Lord], [Murderer], [Messenger]SCENE, in the End of the fourth Act, lies in
England; through the rest of the Play, in Scotland;
and, chiefly, at Macbeth's Castle.
-- 11 --
MACBETH.
ACT I.SCENE I.An open Place.Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches.
1 Witch.
When shall we three meet again,
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought
'Gainst my captivity:—Hail, brave friend!
Say to the king the knowledge of the broil,
As thou didst leave it.
Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break1note
;
So from that spring, whence comfort seem'd to come,
Discomfort swells2note. Mark, king of Scotland, mark:
No sooner justice had, with valour arm'd,
Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heels;
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,
With furbish'd arms, and new supplies of men,
Began a fresh assault.
Dun.
Dismay'd not this
Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?
Norway himself, with terrible numbers,
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
The thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict:
Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof3note
?—What are these,
So 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 aught
That man may question8note? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips:—You should be women9note,
And yet your beards1note
2 Witch.
All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor4note!
3 Witch.
All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.
Ban.
Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair?—I' the name of truth,
Are ye fantastical5note
, or that indeed
-- 40 --
Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace, and great prediction
Of noble having6note
, and of royal hope,
That he seems rapt withal7note
; 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 fear,
Your favours, nor your hate.
1 Witch.
Hail!
2 Witch.
Hail!
3 Witch.
Hail!
-- 41 --
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 death8note
, I know, I am thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
A prosperous gentleman; and, to be king,
Stands not within the prospect of belief,
No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence
You owe this strange intelligence? or why
Upon this blasted heath9note
you stop our way
With such prophetick 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, melted
As breath into the wind.—'Would they had staid!
Ban.
To the self-same tune, and words. Who's here? Enter Rosse and Angus.
Rosse.
The king hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,
The news of thy success: and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine, or his: Silenc'd with that2note
,
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 tale3note
,
-- 44 --
Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
And pour'd them down before him.
Ang.
We are sent,
To give thee, from our royal master, thanks;
Only to herald thee4note into his sight,
Not pay thee.
Rosse.
And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:
In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
For it is thine.
Ban.
What, can the devil speak true?
Macb.
The thane of Cawdor lives; Why do you dress me
In borrow'd robes?
Ang.
Who was the thane, lives yet;
-- 45 --
But under heavy judgment bears that life
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin'd
With those of Norway5note
; or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage; or that with both
He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
But treasons capital, confess'd, and prov'd,
Have overthrown him.
Macb.
Glamis, and thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behind.—Thanks for your pains.—
Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no less to them?
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;
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us
In deepest consequence.—
Cousins, a word, I pray you.
Cannot be ill; cannot be good:—If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion2note
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair3note
heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings5note
:
-- 49 --
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man5note
, that function
Is smother'd in surmise; and nothing is,
But what is not6note
.
-- 50 --
Ban.
Look, how our partner's rapt.
Macb.
If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
Without my stir.
Ban.
New honours come upon him
Like our strange garments; cleave not to their mould,
But with the aid of use.
Macb.
Come what come may;
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day7note
.
-- 51 --
Ban.
Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure8note.
Macb.
Give me your favour9note:—my dull brain was wrought
With things forgotten1note
. Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are register'd where every day I turn
The leaf to read them2note
.—Let us toward the king.—
Think upon what hath chanc'd; and, at more time,
The interim having weigh'd it3note
, let us speak
Our free hearts each to other.
Ban.
Very gladly.
Macb.
Till then, enough.—Come, friends. [Exeunt.
-- 52 --
SCENE IV.Fores. A Room in the Palace.Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, and Attendants.
Dun.
Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not4note
Those in commission yet return'd?
Mal.
My liege,
They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die5note: who did report,
That very frankly he confess'd his treasons;
Implor'd your highness' pardon; and set forth
A deep repentance: nothing in his life
Became him, like the leaving it; he died
As one that had been studied in his death6note
,
To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,
As 'twere a careless trifle.
-- 53 --
Dun.
There's no art,
To find the mind's construction in the face7note
:
He was a gentleman on whom I built
An absolute trust.—O worthiest cousin!
Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.
The sin of my ingratitude even now
Was heavy on me: Thou art so far before,
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
To overtake thee. 'Would thou hadst less deserv'd;
That the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
More is thy due than more than all can pay8note
.
-- 54 --
Macb.
The service and the loyalty I owe,
In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
Is to receive our duties: and our duties
Are to your throne and state, children, and servants;
Which do but what they should, by doing every thing9note
Dun.
Welcome hither:
I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing2note
.—Noble Banquo,
That hast no less deserv'd, nor must be known
No less to have done so, let me infold thee,
And hold thee to my heart.
Ban.
There if I grow,
The harvest is your own.
Dun.
My plenteous joys,
Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
In drops of sorrow3note
.—Sons, kinsmen, thanes,
-- 56 --
And you whose places are the nearest, know,
We will establish our estate upon
Our eldest, Malcolm; whom we name hereafter,
The prince of Cumberland: which honour must
Not, unaccompanied, invest him only,
But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
On all deservers.—From hence to Inverness4note
,
And bind us further to you.
Macb.
The rest is labour, which is not us'd for you:
I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful
The hearing of my wife with your approach;
So, humbly take my leave.
On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap,
[Aside.
For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires!
Let not light see my black and deep desires:
-- 58 --
The eye wink at the hand! yet let that be,
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
[Exit.
Dun.
True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant6note;
And in his commendations I am fed;
It is a banquet to me. Let us after him,
Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:
It is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. Exeunt.
-- 59 --
SCENE V.Inverness. A Room in Macbeth's Castle.
Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter.
Lady M.
They met me in the day of success;
and I have learned by the perfectest report7note, they
have more in them than mortal knowledge. When
I burned in desire to question them further, they
made themselves—air, into which they vanished.
Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came
missives from the king8note
, who all-hailed me, Thane
of Cawdor; by which title, before, these weird
sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming
on of time, with, Hail, king that shalt be! This
have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest
partner of greatness; that thou mightest not lose
the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what
greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart,
and farewell.
Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be
What thou art promis'd:—Yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness,
To catch the nearest way: Thou would'st be great;
Art not without ambition; but without
The illness should attend it. What thou would'st highly,
That would'st thou holily; would'st not play false,
And yet would'st wrongly win: thou'd'st have, great Glamis9note
,
-- 60 --
That which cries, Thus thou must do, if thou have it;
And that which rather thou dost fear to do1note
,
Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither,
That I may pour my spirits in thine ear2note
;
And chastise with the valour of my tongue
All that impedes thee from the golden round,
Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem
To have thee crown'd withal3note
.—What is your tidings?
-- 61 --
Enter an Attendant.
Atten.
The king comes here to-night.
Lady M.
Thou'rt mad to say it:
Is not thy master with him? who, wer't so,
Would have inform'd for preparation.
Atten.
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 more
Than would make up his message.
-- 62 --
Lady M.
Give him tending,
He brings great news. The raven himself is hoarse3note
,
[Exit Attendant.
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, come, you spirits4note
And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse6note
;
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect, and it7note
! Come to my woman's breasts,
-- 64 --
And take my milk for gall8note, you murd'ring ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature's mischief9note! Come, thick night1note
; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under it1note
. He that's coming
Must be provided for: and you shall put
This night's great business into my despatch;
Which shall to all our nights and days to come
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
-- 69 --
Macb.
We will speak further.
Lady M.
Only look up clear;
To alter favour ever is to fear2note
!
Leave all the rest to me. [Exeunt.SCENE VI.The same. Before the Castle.Hautboys. Servants of Macbeth attending.
Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo,
Lenox, Macduff, Rosse, Angus, and Attendants.
, but this bird
Hath made his pendent bed, and procreant cradle:
Where they most breed8note
and haunt, I have observ'd,
The air is delicate9note
. 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 you,
How you shall bid God yield us for your pains,
And thank us for your trouble1note
.
-- 72 --
Lady M.
All our service
In every point twice done, and then done double,
-- 73 --
Were poor and single business, to contend
Against those honours deep and broad, wherewith
Your majesty loads our house: For those of old,
And the late dignities heap'd up to them,
We rest your hermits2note
.
Dun.
Where's the thane of Cawdor?
We cours'd him at the heels, and had a purpose
To be his purveyor: but he rides well;
And his great love, sharp as his spur3note
, hath holp him
-- 74 --
To his home before us: Fair and noble hostess,
We are your guest to-night.
Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt,
To 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.SCENE VII.The Same. A Room in the Castle.Hautboys and torches. Enter, and pass over the
stage, a Sewer5note
, and divers Servants with dishes
and service. Then enter Macbeth.
Macb.
If it were done6note, when 'tis done, then 'twere well
. He's here in double trust:
First, as I am his kinsman6note
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 Duncan
Hath borne his faculties so meek7note
, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
-- 79 --
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation8note
of his taking-off:
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd
Upon the sightless couriers of the air9note
,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That tears shall drown the wind1note
.—I have no spur
-- 80 --
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition1note
, which o'er-leaps itself,
And falls on the other2note
Lady M.
He has almost supp'd; Why have you left the chamber?
Macb.
Hath he ask'd for me?
-- 82 --
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 bought
Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
Not cast aside so soon.
,
Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since?
And wakes it now, to look so green and pale
At what it did so freely? From this time,
Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard
To be the same in thine own act and valour,
As thou art in desire? Would'st thou have that
Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,
And live a coward in thine own esteem5note
;
Letting I dare not wait upon I would,
Like the poor cat i' the adage6note
?
Macb.
Pr'ythee, peace:
-- 83 --
I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more, is none7note
.
Lady M.
What beast was't then,
That made you break this enterprize to me?
When you durst do it, then you were a man;
And, to be more than what you were, you would
Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place,
Did then adhere8note
, and yet you would make both:
They have made themselves, and that their fitness now
Does unmake you. I have given suck; and know
How tender 'tis, to love the babe that milks me:
I would, while it was smiling in my face9note
!
But screw your courage to the sticking-place3note
,
-- 85 --
And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep,
(Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey
Soundly invite him,) his two chamberlains
Will I with wine and wassel so convince4note
,
-- 86 --
That memory, the warder of the brain5note
,
Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason6note
: When in swinish sleep
Their drenched natures8note lie, as in a death,
What cannot you and I perform upon
The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
His spongy officers; who shall bear the guilt
Of our great quell9note
?
Macb.
Bring forth men-children only!
For thy undaunted mettle should compose
Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv'd1note
,
When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
Of his own chamber, and us'd their very daggers,
That they have don't? 10Q0015
. SCENE IThe Same. Court within the Castle.Enter Banquo and Fleance, and a Servant, with a torch before them.
Ban.
How goes the night, boy?
Fle.
The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.
Ban.
And she goes down at twelve.
Fle.
I take't, 'tis later, sir.
Ban.
Hold, take my sword:—There's husbandry in heaven5note
,
Their candles are all out6note
.—Take thee that too.
-- 90 --
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And yet I would not sleep: Merciful powers!
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts, that nature
Gives way to in repose7note
!—Give me my sword;—
Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch.
Who's there?
Macb.
A friend.
Ban.
What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's a-bed:
He hath been in unusual pleasure, and
Sent forth great largess to your officers8note
:
-- 91 --
This diamond he greets your wife withal,
By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up9note
In measureless content.
Macb.
Being unprepar'd,
Our will became the servant to defect;
Which else should free have wrought1note
.
-- 92 --
Ban.
All's well2note.
I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:
To you they have show'd some truth.
Macb.
I think not of them:
Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,
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,—when 'tis3note
,
It shall make honour for you.
-- 93 --
Ban.
So I lose none,
In seeking to augment it, but still keep
-- 94 --
My bosom franchis'd, and allegiance clear,
I shall be counsel'd.
-- 95 --
Macb.
Good repose, the while!
Ban.
Thanks, sir; The like to you!
[Exit Banquo.
Macb.
Go, bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready4note,
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 vision, sensible
To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind; a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
-- 96 --
Thou marshal'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: I see thee still;
And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood5note
,
Which was not so before.—There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business, which informs
Thus to mine eyes.—Now o'er the one half world
Nature seems dead6note
, and wicked dreams abuse
-- 97 --
The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates8note
Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd murder,
-- 98 --
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost9note
, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my where-about3note
,
-- 100 --
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it4note
.—Whiles I threat, he lives;
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives5note
.
[A bell rings.
-- 101 --
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me6note
.
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven, or to hell7note
. [Exit.
-- 102 --
SCENE II.The Same.Enter Lady Macbeth.
Lady M.
That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold:
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-night8note
. He is about it:
-- 103 --
The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms
Do mock their charge with snores9note
: I have drugg'd their possets1note
,
That death and nature do contend about them,
Whether they live, or die2note
.
Macb. [Within.]
Who's there?—what, ho!
-- 104 --
Lady M.
Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd,
And 'tis not done:—the attempt, and not the deed,
Confounds us:—Hark!—I laid their daggers ready,
He could not miss them3note
.—Had he not resembled
My father as he slept, I had done't4note
.—My husband? Enter Macbeth.
Macb.
I have done the deed:—Didst thou not hear a noise?
Lady M.
I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry.
Did you not speak?
Macb.
There's one did laugh in his 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 them
Again to sleep.
Lady M.
There are two lodg'd together.
Macb.
One cried, God bless us! and, Amen, the other;
As they had seen me6note
, with these hangman's hands.
Listening their fear7note
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 thought
After these ways; so, it will make us mad.
Macb.
Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep; Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care9note
,
-- 107 --
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath1note
,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast2note
;—
-- 108 --
Lady M.
What do you mean?
Macb.
Still it cried, Sleep no more! to all the house:
Glamis hath murder'd sleep; and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more3note
!
-- 109 --
Lady M.
Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,
You do unbend your noble strength, to think
So 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 smear
The 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 daggers4note
: The sleeping, and the dead,
Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood,
That fears a painted devil5note
. If he do bleed,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
For it must seem their guilt6note
. [Exit. Knocking within.
-- 110 --
Macb.
Whence is that knocking?
How is't with me, when every noise appals me?
What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine eyes!
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood6note
Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnardine7note
At the south entry:—retire we to our chamber:
A little water clears us of this deed:
-- 114 --
How easy is it then? Your constancy
Hath left you unattended.—[Knocking.] Hark! more knocking:
Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us,
And show us to be watchers:—Be not lost
So poorly in your thoughts.
Macb.
To know my deed,—'twere best not know myself1note
4 note. SCENE IIIThe Same.Enter a Porter.[Knocking within.
Porter.
Here's a knocking, indeed! If a man
were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning
the key5note. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock:
Who's there, i' the name of Belzebub? Here's a
farmer, that hanged himself on the expectation of
plenty6note
: Come in time; have napkins enough7note
about
you; here you'll sweat for't. [Knocking.] Knock,
knock: Who's there, i' 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 sake8note, yet could not
-- 116 --
equivocate to heaven: O, come in, equivocator.
[Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock: Who's there?
'Faith, here's an English tailor come hither, for
stealing out of a French hose8note
: 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
-- 117 --
further: I had thought to have let in some of all
professions, that go the primrose way to the everlasting
bonfire9note
. [Knocking.] Anon, anon; I pray
you, remember the porter.
[Opens the gate.Enter Macduff and Lenox.
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 cock1note
: 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 sleep2note
, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.
-- 118 --
Macd.
I believe, drink gave thee the lie last
night3note
.
-- 119 --
Port.
That it did, sir, i' the very throat o' me:
But I requited him for his lie; and, I think, being
too strong for him, though he took up my legs
sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him4note
.
Macd.
Is thy master stirring?—
Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes. Enter Macbeth.
Len.
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 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, physicks pain5note
.
This is the door.
-- 120 --
Macd.
I'll make so bold to call,
For 'tis my limited service6note
Len.
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 prophecying, with accents terrible,
Of dire combustion, and confus'd events,
New hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure bird
Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth
Was feverous, and did shake9note
.
-- 121 --
Macb.
'Twas a rough night.
Len.
My young remembrance cannot parallel
A fellow to it.
-- 122 --
Re-enter Macduff.
Macd.
O horror! horror! horror! Tongue, nor heart,
Cannot conceive1note
, nor name thee!
Macb., Len.
What's the matter?
Macd.
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
The life o' the building.
Macb.
What is't you say? the life?
Len.
Mean you his majesty?
Macd.
Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
With a new Gorgon:—Do not bid me speak;
See, and then speak yourselves.—Awake! awake!—
[Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox.
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 see
-- 123 --
The great doom's image!—Malcolm! Banquo!
As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprights,
To countenance this horror2note
! [Bell rings.Enter Lady Macbeth.
Lady M.
What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? speak, speak3note,—
Macd.
O, gentle lady,
'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
The repetition, in a woman's ear,
Ban.
Too cruel, any where.—
Dear Duff, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself,
And say, it is not so. Re-enter Macbeth and Lenox.
Macb.
Had I but died an hour before this chance,
I had liv'd a blessed time6note
; for, from this instant,
There's nothing serious in mortality:
All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead;
-- 125 --
The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
Is 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 blood
Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.
Macd.
Your royal father's murder'd.
Mal.
O, by whom?
Len.
Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done't:
Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood7note
,
So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found
Upon their pillows8note
:
They star'd, and were distracted; no man's life
Was 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 of my violent love
Out-run the pauser reason.—Here lay Duncan,
His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood9note
;
-- 126 --
And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature,
For ruin's wasteful entrance1note
: there, the murderers,
-- 127 --
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly breech'd with gore2note
: Who could refrain,
-- 128 --
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage, to make his* note love known?
Don.
What should be spoken
Here, where our fate, hid in an augre-hole4note
,
May rush, and seize us? Let's away; our tears
Are not yet brew'd.
Mal.
Nor our strong sorrow
Upon the foot of motion5note
.
Ban.
Look to the lady:—
[Lady Macbeth is carried out.
And when we have our naked frailties hid,
That suffer in exposure6note
, let us meet,
-- 130 --
And question this most bloody piece of work,
To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us:
In the great hand of God I stand; and, thence,
Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight
Of treasonous malice7note
.
Macb.
And so do I.
All.
So all.
Macb.
Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i' the hall together.
All.
Well contented. [Exeunt all but Mal. and Don.
Mal.
What will you do? Let's not consort with them:
To show an unfelt sorrow, is an office
Which the false man does easy: I'll to England.
-- 131 --
Don.
To Ireland, I; our separated fortune
Shall keep us both the safer: where we are,
There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood,
The nearer bloody8note
.
Mal.
This murderous shaft that's shot,
Hath not yet lighted9note
; and our safest way
Is, to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse;
And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,
But shift away: There's warrant in that theft
Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left. [Exeunt.SCENE IV.Without the Castle.Enter Rosse and an Old Man.
Old M.
Threescore and ten I can remember well:
Within the volume of which time, I have seen
-- 132 --
Hours dreadful, and things strange; but this sore night
Hath trifled former knowings.
Rosse.
Ah, good father,
Thou see'st, the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day,
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame,
That darkness does the face of earth intomb,
When living light should kiss it1note
?
Old M.
'Tis unnatural,
Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place2note
Rosse.
And Duncan's horses, (a thing most strange and certain,)
-- 133 --
Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race4note
,
Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make
War with mankind.
Old M.
'Tis said, they eat each other.
Rosse.
They did so; to the amazement of mine eyes,
That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Macduff:—
Enter Macduff.
How goes the world, sir, now?
Macd.
Why, see you not?
Rosse.
Is't known, who did this more than bloody deed?
Macd.
Those that Macbeth hath slain.
-- 134 --
Rosse.
Alas, the day!
What good could they pretend5note
?
Macd.
They were suborn'd:
Malcolm, and Donalbain, the king's two sons,
Are stol'n away and fled; which puts upon them
Suspicion of the deed.
Rosse.
'Gainst nature still:
Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up6note
Thine own life's means!—Then 'tis most like7note
,
The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth8note
.
Macd.
He is already nam'd; and gone to Scone,
To be invested.
The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
And guardian of their bones.
Rosse.
Will you to Scone?
Macd.
No, cousin, I'll to Fife.
Rosse.
Well, I will thither.
Macd.
Well, may you see things well done there;—adieu!—
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!
Rosse.
Farewell, father.
Old M.
God's benison go with you; and with those
That would make good of bad, and friends of foes! [Exeunt.ACT III.SCENE I.Fores. A Room in the Palace.Enter Banquo.
Ban.
Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weird women promis'd1note
; and, I fear,
Thou play'dst most foully for't: yet it was said,
It should not stand in thy posterity;
But that myself should be the root, and father
Of many kings. If there come truth from them,
(As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine2note
,)
-- 136 --
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.
Senet sounded. Enter Macbeth, as King; Lady
Macbeth, as Queen; Lenox, Rosse, Lords,
Ladies, and Attendants.
Macb.
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 unbecoming.
Are with a most indissoluble tie
For ever knit5note
.
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 talk to-morrow6note
.
Is't far you ride?
-- 138 --
Ban.
As far, my lord, as will fill up the time
'Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better7note
,
-- 139 --
I must become a borrower of the night,
For a dark hour, or twain.
Macb.
Fail not our feast.
Ban.
My lord, I will not.
Macb.
We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd
In England, and in Ireland: not confessing
Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers
With strange invention: But of that to-morrow;
When, therewithal, we shall have cause of state,
Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: Adieu,
Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you?
Ban.
Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon us.
Macb.
I wish your horses swift, and sure of foot;
And so I do commend you to their backs8note
.
Farewell.—
[Exit Banquo.
-- 140 --
Let every man be master of his time
Till seven at night; to make society
The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself
Till supper-time alone: while then God be with you.
[Exeunt Lady Macbeth, Lords, Ladies, &c.
Sirrah, a word with you9note
: Attend those men
Our pleasure?
Atten.
They are, my lord, without the palace gate.
Macb.
Bring them before us.—[Exit Atten.] To be thus, is nothing;
But to be safely thus:—Our fears in Banquo
Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature1note
Reigns that, which would be fear'd: 'Tis much he dares;
And, to2note that dauntless temper of his mind,
He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour3note
-- 141 --
To act in safety. There is none, but he
Whose being I do fear: and, under him,
My genius is rebuk'd; as, it is said,
Mark Antony's was by Cæsar4note
. He chid the sisters,
-- 142 --
When first they put the name of King upon me,
And bade them speak to him; then, prophet-like,
They 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 my mind5note
:
For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd;
Put rancours in the vessel of my peace
Only for them: and mine eternal jewel
Given to the common enemy of man6note
,
-- 143 --
To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings7note!
Rather than so, come, fate, into the list,
And champion me to the utterance8note
!—Who's there?
Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers.
Now go to the door, and stay there till we call9note
.
[Exit Attendant.
-- 144 --
Was it not yesterday we spoke together?
1 Mur.
It was, so please your highness.
Macb.
Well then, now
Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know,
That it was he, in the times past, which held you
So under fortune; which, you thought, had been
Our innocent self: this I made good to you
In our last conference; pass'd in probation with you,
How you were borne in hand1note
; how cross'd; the instruments;
-- 145 --
Who wrought with them; and all things else, that might,
To half a soul, and to a notion craz'd,
Say, Thus did Banquo.
1 Mur.
You made it known to us.
Macb.
I did so; and went further, which is now
Our point of second meeting. Do you find
Your patience so predominant in your nature,
That you can let this go? Are you so gospell'd2note
,
To pray for this good man, and for his issue,
Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave,
And beggar'd yours for ever?
As hounds, and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,
Shoughs4note
, water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are cleped
All by the name of dogs: the valued file5note
Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
The house-keeper, the hunter, every one
According to the gift which bounteous nature
Hath in him clos'd; whereby he does receive
-- 147 --
Particular addition, from the bill
That writes them all alike: and so of men.
Now, if you have a station in the file,
Not6note i' the worst rank of manhood, say it;
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 world
Have so incens'd, that I am reckless what
I do, to spite the world.
1 Mur.
And I another,
So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune7note
,
That I would set my life on any chance,
To mend it, or be rid on't.
-- 148 --
Macb.
Both of you
Know, Banquo was your enemy.
2 Mur.
True, my lord.
Macb.
So is he mine: and in such bloody distance8note
,
That every minute of his being thrusts
Against my near'st of life: And though I could
With bare-fac'd power sweep him from my sight,
And bid my will avouch it; yet I must not,
For certain friends9note
that are both his and mine,
Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall
Whom I myself struck down: and thence it is,
That I to your assistance do make love;
Masking the business from the common eye,
For sundry weighty reasons.
2 Mur.
We shall, my lord,
Perform what you command us.
1 Mur.
Though our lives—
Macb.
Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour, at most1note,
I will advise you where to plant yourselves:
Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time,
The moment on't2note
; for't must be done to-night,
-- 149 --
And something from the palace; always thought,
That I require a clearness3note
: And with him,
-- 150 --
(To leave no rubs, nor botches, in the work,)
Fleance his son, that keeps him company,
Whose absence is no less material to me
Than is his father's, must embrace the fate
Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart;
I'll come to you anon4note.
2 Mur.
We are resolv'd, my lord.
Macb.
I'll call upon you straight; abide within.
-- 151 --
It is concluded:—Banquo, thy soul's flight,
If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.
[Exeunt.SCENE II.The Same. Another Room.Enter Lady Macbeth and a Servant.
Lady M.
Is Banquo gone from court?
Serv.
Ay, madam, but returns again to-night:
Lady M.
Say to the king, I would attend his leisure
For a few words.
,
Where our desire is got without content:
'Tis safer to be that which we destroy,
Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy.
Enter Macbeth.
How now, my lord? why do you keep alone,
Of sorriest fancies6note
your companions making?
-- 152 --
Using those thoughts, which should indeed have died
With them they think on? Things without all remedy7note
,
Should be without regard: what's done, is done.
the snake, not kill'd it;
She'll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice
Remains in danger of her former tooth.
But let the frame of things disjoint,
Both the worlds suffer9note
,
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep
In the affliction of these terrible dreams,
That shake us nightly: Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace1note
,
-- 153 --
Than on the torture of the mind to lie
In restless ecstacy2note
. Duncan is in his grave;
After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well;
Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
Malice domestick, 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 remembrance3note
Apply to Banquo: present him eminence4note, both
With eye and tongue: unsafe the while, that we
Must lave our honours in these flattering streams;
And make our faces vizards to our hearts,
Disguising what they are5note
.
-- 154 --
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 not eterne6note
.
-- 155 --
Macb.
There's comfort yet; they are assailable;
Then be thou jocund: Ere the bat hath flown
His cloister'd flight7note
; ere, to black Hecate's summons,
The shard-borne beetle8note
, with his drowsy hums,
-- 156 --
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
A deed of dreadful note.
-- 157 --
Lady M.
What's to be done?
Macb.
Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck9note
,
-- 158 --
Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night1note
,
Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;
And, with thy bloody and invisible hand,
Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond
Which keeps me pale2note
2 Mur.
He needs not our mistrust; since he delivers
Our offices, and what we have to do,
To the direction just.
1 Mur.
Then stand with us.
The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:
Now spurs the lated7note
traveller apace,
To gain the timely inn; and near approaches
The subject of our watch.
3 Mur.
Hark! I hear horses.
Ban. [Within.]
Give us a light there, ho!
2 Mur.
Then it is he; the rest
-- 162 --
That are within the note of expectation8note,
Already are i' the court9note
.
1 Mur.
His horses go about.
3 Mur.
Almost a mile: but he does usually,
So all men do, from hence to the palace gate
Make it their walk. Enter Banquo and Fleance, a Servant with a torch preceding them.
1 Mur.
Well, let's away, and say how much is done. [Exeunt.SCENE IV.A Room of State in the Palace.A Banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.
Macb.
You know your own degrees, sit down: at first
And last, the hearty welcome4note
.
Lords.
Thanks to your majesty.
Macb.
Ourself will mingle with society,
And play the humble host.
Lady M.
Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;
For my heart speaks, they are welcome. Enter first Murderer, to 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 measure
The table round.—There's blood upon thy face.
Mur.
'Tis Banquo's then.
Macb.
'Tis better thee without, than he within6note
.
Is he despatch'd?
-- 165 --
Mur.
My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.
Macb.
Thou art the best o' the cut-throats: Yet he's good,
That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,
Thou art the nonpareil.
Mur.
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 in
To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe?
Mur.
Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenched gashes7note
on his head;
The least a death to nature.
Macb.
Thanks for that:—
There the grown serpent lies; the worm8note, that's fled,
Hath nature that in time will venom breed,
No teeth for the present.—Get thee gone; tomorrow
We'll hear, ourselves again. [Exit Murderer.
,
That 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.
Macb.
Sweet remembrancer!—
Now, good digestion wait on appetite1note
,
And health on both!
Len.
May it please your highness sit? [The Ghost of Banquo rises2note, and sits in Macbeth's place.
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 unkindness,
Than pity for mischance3note
!
-- 167 --
Rosse.
His absence, sir,
Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your highness
To grace us with your royal company?
!
This is the very painting of your fear:
This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws, and starts,
(Impostors to true fear,) would well become8note
A woman's story, at a winter's fire,
Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
You look but on a stool.
-- 169 --
Macb.
Pr'ythee, 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 send
Those that we bury, back, our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites9note
;
Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd
Too terrible for the ear: the times have been,
That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end: but now, they rise again,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools: This is more strange
Than such a murder is.
Lady M.
My worthy lord,
Your noble friends do lack you.
, my most worthy friends;
I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing
To those that know me. Come, love and health to all;
Then I'll sit down:—Give me some wine, fill full:—
I drink to the general joy of the whole table,
Ghost rises.
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst5note
,
And all to all6note
.
-- 171 --
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 in those eyes7note
Which 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 tiger8note
,
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble: Or, be alive again,
And dare me to the desert with thy sword;
And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,
When mine are blanch'd with fear4note
.
Rosse.
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 health
Attend his majesty!
Lady M.
A kind good night to all5note! [Exeunt Lords and Attendants.
Macb.
It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood6note
:
-- 176 --
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak7note;
Augurs, and understood relations8note
, have
-- 177 --
By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth
The secret'st man of blood9note
.—What is the night?
Lady M.
Almost at odds with morning, which is which.
Macb.
How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person,
At our great bidding1note
?
-- 178 --
Lady M.
Did you send to him, sir?
Macb.
I hear it by the way; but I will send:
There's not a one of them2note
, but in his house
I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow,
(And betimes I will,) to the weird sisters3note
:
More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know,
By the worst means, the worst: for mine own good,
All causes shall give way; I am in blood
Stept in so far, that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er4note
:
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
Which must be acted, ere they may be scann'd5note
.
-- 179 --
Lady M.
You lack the season of all natures, sleep6note
.
Macb.
Come, we'll to sleep: My strange and self-abuse
Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use:—
We are yet but young in deed7note
Hec.
Have I not reason, beldams, as you are,
Saucy, and overbold? How did you dare
To trade and traffick with Macbeth,
In riddles, and affairs of death;
And I, the mistress of your charms,
The close 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 done
Hath been but for a wayward son,
-- 182 --
Spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do,
Loves for his own ends, not for you1note
.
But make amends now: Get you gone,
And at the pit of Acheron2note
-- 183 --
Meet me i' the morning; thither he
Will come to know his destiny.
Your vessels, and your spells, provide,
Your charms, and every thing beside:
I am for the air; this night I'll spend
Unto a dismal and a fatal end3note
.
Great business must be wrought ere noon:
Upon the corner of the moon4note
;
I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
And that distill'd by magick slights6note,
Shall raise such artificial sprights,
As, by the strength of their illusion,
Shall draw him on to his confusion:
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear:
And you all know, security
Is mortals' chiefest enemy.
Hark, I am call'd; my little spirit, see,
Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Exit.
1 Witch.
Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again. [Exeunt.
-- 185 --
SCENE VI.Fores. A Room in the Palace.Enter Lenox and another Lord8note.
Len.
My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,
Which can interpret further: only, I say,
Things have been strangely borne: The gracious Duncan
Was pitied of Macbeth:—marry, he was dead:—
And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;
Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleance kill'd,
For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late.
Who cannot want the thought9note
It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain,
To kill their gracious father? damned fact!
-- 186 --
How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight,
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 alive,
To hear the men deny it. So that, I say,
He has borne all things well: and I do think,
That, had he Duncan's sons under his key,
(As, an't please heaven, he shall not,) they should find
What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance.
But, peace!—for from broad words, and 'cause he fail'd
His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear,
Macduff lives in disgrace: Sir, can you tell
Where he bestows himself?
,
From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
Lives in the English court; and is receiv'd
Of the most pious Edward with such grace,
That the malevolence of fortune nothing
Takes from his high respect: Thither Macduff
Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid3note
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward:
That, by the help of these, (with Him above
To ratify the work,) we may again
Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights;
Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives4note
;
-- 187 --
Do faithful homage, and receive free honours5note,
All which we pine for now: And this report
Hath so exasperate6note the king7note, that he
Prepares for some attempt of war8note.
Len.
Sent he to Macduff?
Lord.
He did: and with an absolute, Sir, not I,
The cloudy messenger turns me his back,
And hums; as who should say, You'll rue the time That clogs me with this answer.
Len.
And that well might
Advise him to a caution9note
, to hold what distance
His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel
Fly to the court of England, and unfold
His message ere he come; that a swift blessing
-- 188 --
May soon return to this our suffering country
Under a hand accurs'd1note
!
2 Witch.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake:
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork4note, and blind-worm's sting5note
,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,
-- 194 --
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; maw, and gulf6note
! 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. SONG5note
.
Black spirits and white,
Red spirits and grey;
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may.
-- 197 --
2 Witch.
By the pricking of my thumbs6note,
Something wicked this way comes:—
Open, locks, whoever knocks. Enter Macbeth.
Macb.
How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags?
What is't you do?
All.
A deed without a name.
Macb.
I cónjure you, by that which you profess,
(Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me:
Though you untie the winds, and let them fight
Against the churches; though the yesty waves7note
-- 198 --
Confound and swallow navigation up;
Though bladed corn be lodg'd8note
, and trees blown down;
Though castles topple9note
on their warders' heads;
Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope
Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
Of nature's germins1note
tumble all together,
Even till destruction sicken, answer me
To what I ask you.
1 Witch.
Speak.
2 Witch.
Demand.
3 Witch.
We'll answer.
1 Witch.
Say, if thoud'st rather hear it from our mouths,
Or from our masters'?
Macb.
Call them, let me see them.
-- 199 --
1 Witch.
Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
Her nine farrow2note
; grease, that's sweaten
From the murderer's gibbet, throw
Into the flame.
All.
Come, high, or low;
Thyself, and office, deftly show3note
. Thunder. An Apparition of an armed Head rises4note
.
Macb.
Tell me, thou unknown power,—
2 Witch.
He knows thy thought;
Hear his speech, but say thou nought5note
.
-- 200 --
App.
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;
Beware the thane of Fife6note.—Dismiss me:—Enough7note. [Descends.
Macb.
What-e'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;
Thou hast harp'd my fear aright8note
:—But one word more:—
1 Witch.
He will not be commanded; Here's another,
More potent than the first. Thunder. An Apparition of a bloody Child rises.
Macb.
Then live, Macduff; What need I fear of thee?
But yet I'll make assurance double sure,
And take a bond of fate2note: thou shalt not live;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lies,
And sleep in spite of thunder.—What is this,
Thunder. An Apparition of a Child crowned, with a Tree in his Hand, rises.
That rises like the issue of a king;
And wears upon his baby brow the round
And top of sovereignty3note
?
App.
Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill5note
Shall come against him. [Descends.
-- 202 --
Macb.
That will never be;
Who can impress the forest6note; bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? sweet bodements! good!
Rebellious head, rise never7note
, till the wood
-- 203 --
Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time, and mortal custom.—Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing; Tell me, (if your art
Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever
Reign 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 this8note
? [Hautboys.
1 Witch.
Show!
2 Witch.
Show!
3 Witch.
Show!
All.
Show his eyes, and grieve his heart9note;
Come like shadows, so depart. Eight Kings1note appear, and pass over the Stage in order; the last with a Glass in his Hand; Banquo following.
Macb.
Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down!
-- 204 --
Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls9note:—And thy air,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first:—
A third is like the former1note
:—Filthy hags!
Why do you show me this?—A fourth?—Start, eyes!
What! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom2note
?
-- 205 --
Another yet?—A seventh?—I'll see no more:—
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass3note
,
Which shows me many more; and some I see,
That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry4note
smiles upon me,
And points at them for his.—What, is this so?
-- 207 --
1 Witch.
Ay, sir, all this is so:—But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?—
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights7note
,
And show the best of our delights;
I'll charm the air to give a sound8note
;
And damn'd, all those that trust them!—I did hear
The galloping of horse: Who was't came by?
Len.
'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word,
Macduff is fled to England.
Macb.
Fled to England?
Len.
Ay, my good lord.
Macb.
Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits3note:
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook,
Unless the deed go with it: From this moment,
The very firstlings4note
of my heart shall be
-- 209 --
The 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 sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace him in his line5note
. No boasting like a fool;
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool:
But no more sights6note
!—Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are. [Exeunt.
-- 210 --
SCENE II.Fife. A Room in Macduff's Castle.
Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Rosse.
L. Macd.
What had he done, to make him fly the land?
Rosse.
You must have patience, madam.
L. Macd.
He had none:
His flight was madness: When our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors7note.
Rosse.
You know not,
Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.
L. Macd.
Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,
His mansion, and his titles, in a place
From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
He wants the natural touch8note
,
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 flight
So runs against all reason.
-- 211 --
Rosse.
My dearest coz',
I pray you, school yourself: But, for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
The fits o' the season1note
. I dare not speak much further:
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,
And do not know ourselves2note
But float upon a wild and violent sea,
Each way, and move4note
.—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 upward
To what they were before.—My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!
L. Macd.
Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
Rosse.
I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort:
I take my leave at once.
[Exit Rosse.
.
I 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 cruelty7note
,
Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!
I dare abide no longer.
[Exit Messenger.
L. Macd.
Whither should I fly?
I have done no harm. But I remember now
I am in this earthly world; where, to do harm,
Is often laudable: to do good, sometime,
Accounted dangerous folly: Why then, alas!
Do I put up that womanly defence,
To say, I have done no harm?—What are these faces? Enter Murderers.
Mur.
Where is your husband?
-- 215 --
L. Macd.
I hope, in no place so unsanctified,
Where such as thou may'st find him.
: Each new morn,
New widows howl; new orphans cry; new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out
Like syllable of dolour2note
.
-- 219 --
Mal.
What I believe, I'll wail;
What know, believe; and, what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend3note, 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 something
You may deserve of him through me4note
; and wisdom5note
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,
To appease an angry god.
-- 220 --
Macd.
I am not treacherous.
Mal.
But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil,
In an imperial charge6note
. But I shall crave your pardon7note
;
That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose:
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell:
Though all things foul8note
would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.
Macd.
I have lost my hopes.
Mal.
Perchance, even there, where I did find my doubts.
Why in that rawness9note
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,
-- 221 --
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 dares not check thee1note! wear thou thy wrongs2note,
Thy title is affeer'd3note
!—Fare thee well, lord:
-- 222 --
I would not be the villain that thou think'st
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
And the rich East to boot.
Mal.
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 gash
Is added to her wounds: I think, withal,
There would be hands uplifted in my right;
And here, from gracious England, have I offer
Of goodly thousands: But, for all this,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before;
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 know
All the particulars of vice so grafted,
That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state
Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd
With my confineless harms4note.
Macd.
Not in the legions
Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd
In evils, to top Macbeth.
Mal.
I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious5note
, smacking of every sin
That has a name: But there's no bottom, none,
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up
-- 223 --
The cistern of my lust; and my desire
All continent impediments would o'er-bear,
That did oppose my will: Better Macbeth,
Than such a one to reign.
Macd.
Boundless intemperance6note
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
The untimely emptying of the happy throne,
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours: you may
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.
We have willing dames enough; there cannot be
That vulture in you, to devour so many
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so inclin'd.
Mal.
With this, there grows,
In my most ill-compos'd affection, such
A stanchless 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 sauce
To make me hunger more; that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good, and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.
Macd.
This avarice
Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeming lust7note
: and it hath been
-- 224 --
The sword of our slain kings: Yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foysons8note
to fill up your will,
Of your mere own: All these are portable9note
,
With other graces weigh'd.
Mal.
But I have none: The king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
-- 225 --
Bounty, perséverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them; but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth1note
.
Macd.
O Scotland! Scotland!
Mal.
If such a 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 tyrant2note
bloody-scepter'd,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accurs'd,
And does blaspheme his breed?—Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king: the queen, that bore thee,
-- 226 --
Oftner upon her knees than on her feet,
Died every day she lived3note
. Fare thee well!
These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself,
Have banish'd me from Scotland.—O, my breast,
Thy hope ends here!
Mal.
Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
By many of these trains hath sought to win me
Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous haste4note: But God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now
I put myself to thy direction, and
Unspeak mine own detraction; here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman; never was forsworn;
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own;
At no time broke my faith: would not betray
The devil to his fellow; and delight
No less in truth, than life: my first false speaking
Was this upon myself: What I am truly,
Is thine, and my poor country's, to command:
Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach5note,
Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
, was setting forth:
Now we'll together; And the chance, of goodness,
Be like our warranted quarrel7note
. Why are you silent?
Macd.
Such welcome and unwelcome things at once,
'Tis hard to reconcile. Enter a Doctor.
Mal.
Well; more anon.—Comes the king forth, I pray you?
Doct.
Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched souls,
-- 228 --
That stay his cure: their malady convinces8note
The great assay of art; but, at his touch,
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand,
They presently amend.
Mal.
I thank you, doctor. [Exit Doctor.
Macd.
What's the disease he means?
Mal.
'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 people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures9note;
Hanging a golden stamp1note
about their necks,
-- 229 --
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction2note
. With this strange virtue,
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy;
And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.
Mal.
I know him now: Good God, betimes remove
The means that make us strangers!
Rosse.
Sir, Amen.
Macd.
Stands Scotland where it did?
Rosse.
Alas, poor country;
Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot
Be 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 rent the air4note
,
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
A modern ecstacy5note
; the dead man's knell
-- 231 --
Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps6note
,
Dying, or ere they sicken.
Macd.
O, relation,
Too nice, and yet too true7note
!
Mal.
What is the newest grief?
Rosse.
That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker;
Each minute teems a new one.
Rosse.
No; they were well at peace, when I did leave them.
Macd.
Be not a niggard of your speech; How goes it?
Rosse.
When I came hither to transport the tidings,
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
Of many worthy fellows that were out;
-- 232 --
Which 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 Scotland
Would create soldiers, make our women fight,
To doff their dire distresses1note.
Mal.
Be it their comfort,
We are coming thither: gracious England hath
Lent us good Siward, and ten thousand men;
An older, and a better soldier, none
That Christendom gives out.
Rosse.
'Would I could answer
This comfort with the like! But I have words,
That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
Where hearing should not latch them2note
.
Macd.
What concern they?
The general cause? or is it a fee-grief3note
,
Due to some single breast?
-- 233 --
Rosse.
No mind, that's honest,
But in it shares some woe; though the main part
Pertains to you alone.
Macd.
If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.
Rosse.
Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound,
That ever yet they heard.
Macd.
Humph! I guess at it.
Rosse.
Your castle is surpriz'd; your wife, and babes,
Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,
Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer4note
,
To add the death of you.
Mal.
Merciful heaven!—
What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows5note
;
-- 234 --
Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak6note
,
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
Macd.
My children too?
Rosse.
Wife, children, servants, all
That could be found.
Macd.
And I must be from thence!
My wife kill'd too?
Rosse.
I have said.
Mal.
Be comforted:
Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.
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,
They were all struck for thee! naught 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 grief
-- 237 --
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
Macd.
O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue!—But, gentle Heavens,
Cut short all intermission1note
; front to front,
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself;
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too2note
goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Put on their instruments4note
. Receive what cheer you may;
The night is long, that never finds the day. [Exeunt.
-- 238 --
ACT V.SCENE I.Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.Enter a Doctor of Physick, and a waiting Gentlewoman.
Doct.
I have two nights watched with you, but
can perceive no truth in your report. When was
it she last walked?
have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown
upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper,
fold it, write upon it, 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.—In this slumbry 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.
Enter Lady Macbeth, with a Taper.
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.
!—Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier, and
afear'd? What need we fear who knows it, when
none can call our power to account?—Yet who
would have thought the old man to have had so
much blood in him2note
?
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 more o' that:
you mar all with this starting3note.
-- 242 --
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 of Arabia will not sweeten this little
hand. Oh! oh! oh!
Doct.
What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely
charged.
Gent.
I would not have such a heart in my bosom,
for the dignity of 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 which have walked in their
sleep, who have died holily in their beds.
Lady M.
Wash your hands, put on your nightgown;
look not so pale:—I tell you yet again,
Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave.
Doct.
Even so?
Lady M.
To bed, to bed; there's knocking at
the gate4note. Come, come, come, come, give me your
hand; What's done, cannot be undone: To bed,
to bed, to bed.
[Exit Lady Macbeth.
Doct.
Will she go now to bed?
Gent.
Directly.
Doct.
Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural deeds
Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the divine, than the physician.—
God, God, forgive us all! Look after her;
-- 243 --
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her:—So, good night:
My mind she has mated5note
, and amaz'd my sight:
I think, but dare not speak.
Gent.
Good night, good doctor. [Exeunt.
-- 244 --
SCENE II.The Country near Dunsinane.Enter, with Drum and Colours, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers.
Ment.
The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,
His uncle Siward6note, and the good Macduff,
Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes
Would, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm,
Excite the mortified man7note
.
Ang.
Near Birnam wood
Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.
Cath.
Who knows, if Donalbain be with his brother?
Len.
For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file
-- 245 --
Of all the gentry; there is Siward's son,
And many unrough youths8note
, that even now
Protest their first of manhood.
Ment.
What does the tyrant?
Cath.
Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
Some say, he's mad; others, that lesser hate him,
Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Within the belt of rule9note
.
Ang.
Now does he feel
His secret murders sticking on his hands;
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
Those he commands, move only in command,
Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.
Ment.
Who then shall blame
His pester'd senses to recoil, and start,
When all that is within him does condemn
Itself, for being there1note
?
Cath.
Well, march we on,
To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd:
Meet we the medecin2note of the sickly weal;
-- 246 --
And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
Each drop of us.
Len.
Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds3note
.
Make we our march towards Birnam. [Exeunt, marching.SCENE III.Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.
Macb.
Bring me no more reports; let them fly all4note;
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
All mortal consequences have pronounc'd me thus5note
:
Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman, Shall e'er have power upon thee6note.—Then fly, false thanes,
, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
-- 251 --
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead.
-- 252 --
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not.
Seyton!—
-- 253 --
Enter Seyton.
Sey.
What is your gracious pleasure?
Macb.
What news more?
Sey.
All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.
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.
-- 254 --
Send out more horses, skirr the country round9note
;
Hang those that talk of fear1note.—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 her2note from her rest.
Macb.
Cure her of that:
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd3note
;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote4note
,
-- 255 --
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff5note
,
Which weighs upon the heart?
-- 256 --
Doct.
Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.
Macb.
Throw physick 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, despatch:—If thou could'st, doctor, cast
The water of my land6note
, find her disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
I would applaud thee to the very echo,
That should applaud again.—Pull't off, I say.—
, or what purgative drug,
Would scour these English hence?—Hear'st thou of them?
Doct.
Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
Makes us hear something.
Macb.
Bring it after me.—
I will not be afraid of death and bane,
Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. [Exit.
Doct.
Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
Profit again should hardly draw me here. [Exit.SCENE IV.Country near Dunsinane: A Wood in view.Enter, with Drum and Colours, Malcolm, old
Siward and his Son, Macduff, Menteth, Cathness,
Angus, Lenox, Rosse, and Soldiers marching.
Mal.
Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand,
That chambers will be safe.
. [Exeunt, marching.SCENE V.Dunsinane. Within the Castle.Enter, with Drums and Colours, Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers.
Macb.
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, They come: Our castle's strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine, and the ague, eat them up:
Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours,
-- 261 --
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home. What is that noise?
[A cry within, of Women.
Sey.
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Macb.
I have almost forgot the taste of fears:
The time has been4note, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-shriek5note
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir
As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors7note
;
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.—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 word8note
.—
-- 263 --
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow9note
,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time1note
;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death2note
. Out, out, brief candle!
-- 264 --
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.—
Enter a Messenger.
Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Mess.
Gracious my lord,
I shall report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do't.
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.
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,
-- 265 --
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
Till famine cling thee4note
: if thy speech be sooth,
-- 266 --
I care not if thou dost for me as much.—
I pull in resolution; and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth4note
: Fear not, till Birnam wood Do come to Dunsinane;—and now a wood
-- 267 --
Comes 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 a-weary of the sun5note
,
And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.—
Ring the alarum bell:—Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness6note
on our back. [Exeunt.SCENE VI.The Same. A Plain before the Castle.Enter, with Drums and Colours, Malcolm, old
Siward, Macduff, &c. and their Army, with Boughs.
Mal.
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,
Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff, and we,
Shall take upon us* note what else remains to do,
According to our order.
Siw.
Fare you well.—
-- 268 --
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 of blood and death. [Exeunt. Alarums continued.SCENE VII.The Same. Another Part of the Plain.Enter Macbeth.
Macb.
They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,
But, bear-like, I must fight the course7note
.—What's he,
That was not born of woman? Such a one
Am I to fear, or none. Enter young Siward.
Yo. Siw.
What is thy name?
Macb.
Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.
Yo. Siw.
No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
Than any is in hell.
Macb.
My name's Macbeth.
Yo. Siw.
The devil himself could not pronounce a title
More hateful to mine ear.
Macb.
No, nor more fearful.
-- 269 --
Yo. Siw.
Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
I'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 born8note. [Exit.Alarums. Enter Macduff.
Macd.
That way the noise is:—Tyrant, show thy face:
If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine,
My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
I cannot strike at wretched kernes, whose arms
Are hir'd to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth,
Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge,
I sheathe again undeeded. There thou should'st be;
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited9note
: Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not1note
. [Exit. Alarum.
-- 270 --
Enter Malcolm and old Siward.
Siw.
This way, my lord;—the castle's gently render'd:
The 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 foes
That strike beside us.
Siw.
Enter, sir, the castle. [Exeunt. Alarum.Re-enter Macbeth.
Macb.
Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
On mine own sword3note
? whiles I see lives, the gashes
Do better upon them. Re-enter Macduff.
Macd.
Turn, hell-hound, turn.
Macb.
Of all men else I have avoided thee:
But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already.
Macd.
I have no words,
My voice is in my sword4note
; thou bloodier villain
Than terms can give thee out! [They fight.
Macb.
Thou losest labour:
-- 271 --
As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed5note
:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
I bear a charmed life6note
, which must not yield
To one of woman born.
Macd.
Despair thy charm;
And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd,
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripp'd.
Macb.
Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
-- 272 --
For it hath cow'd my better part of man:
And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd,
That palter with us in a double sense7note
;
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 pole8note
; and underwrit,
Here may you see the tyrant.
Macb.
I'll not yield,
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
And 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 body
I throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macduff;
And damn'd be him that first cries, Hold, enough9note
. [Exeunt, fighting.
-- 273 --
Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with Drum and
Colours, Malcolm, old Siward, Rosse, Lenox,
Angus, Cathness, Menteth, and Soldiers.
Mal.
I would, the friends we miss were safe arriv'd.
Siw.
Some must go off: and yet, by these I see,
So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
Mal.
Macduff is missing, and your noble son.
Rosse.
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'd
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died.
Siw.
Then he is dead?
Rosse.
Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end.
Siw.
Had he his hurts before?
Rosse.
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'd1note
.
-- 274 --
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, God2note be with him!—Here comes newer comfort. Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's Head on a Pole3note
.
Macd.
Hail, king! for so thou art: Behold, where stands
The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl4note
,
-- 275 --
That speak my salutation in their minds;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine,—
Hail, king of Scotland!
Mal.
We shall not spend a large expence of time6note,
Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour nam'd7note
. What's more to do,
-- 276 --
Which would be planted newly with the time,—
As calling home our exil'd friends abroad,
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
Producing forth the cruel ministers
Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen:
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life;—This, and what needful else
That 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.
