SCENE II.
Changes to the Palace at Foris.
Enter King, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, with attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain.
King.
What bloody man is that? he can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
The newest state.
Mal.
This is the Serjeant,
Who like a good and hardy soldier fought
'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend!
-- 373 --
Say to the King the knowledge of the broil,
As thou didst leave it.
Cap.
Doubtful long it stood,
As two spent swimmers that do cling together,
And choak their Art. The merciless Macdonal,
Worthy to be a Rebel; for to That
The multiplying villanies of nature
Do swarm upon him, 3 note
from the western isles
Of Kernes and Gallow-glasses was supply'd;
4 note
And fortune on his damned quarrel smiling,
Shew'd like a rebel's whore. But all too weak;
For brave Macbeth, well he deserves that name,
Disdaining fortune, with his brandisht steel,
Which smoak'd with bloody execution,
Like Valour's Minion carved out his passage,
'Till he fac'd the slave;
Who ne'er shook hands nor bid farewel to him,
'Till 5 note
he unseam'd him from the nave to th' chops,
And fix'd his head upon our battlements.
-- 374 --
King.
Oh, valiant Cousin! worthy Gentleman!
Cap.
6 note
As whence the sun 'gins his reflection,
Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break;
So from that Spring, whence Comfort seem'd to come,
-- 375 --
7 note
Discomforts well'd. Mark, King of Scotland, mark;
No sooner justice had, with valour arm'd,
Compell'd these skipping Kermes to trust their heels;
But the Norweyan lord, surveying 'vantage,
With furbisht arms and new supplies of men
Began a fresh assault.
King.
Dismay'd not this
Our Captains, Macbeth and Banquo?
Cap.
Yes,
As sparrows, eagles; or the hare, the lion.
If I say sooth, I must report, they were
8 note
As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks,
-- 376 --
So they redoubled strokes upon the foe.
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
9 noteOr memorize another Golgotha,
I cannot tell—
But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.—
King.
So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds;
They smack of honour both. Go, get him surgeons.
Enter Rosse and Angus.
But who comes here?
Mal.
The worthy Thane of Rosse.
Len.
What haste looks through his eyes?
1 note
So should he look, that seems to speak things strange.
-- 377 --
Rosse.
God save the King!
King.
Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane?
Rosse.
From Fife, great King,
Where the Norweyan banners 2 noteflout the sky,
And fan our people cold.
Norway, himself, with numbers terrible,
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
The Thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict.
'Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapt in proof,
3 note
Confronted him 4 notewith self-comparisons,
Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit. To conclude,
The victory fell on us.
King.
Great happiness!
Rosse.
Now Sweno, Norway's King, craves composition;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
'Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes-kill-isle,
Ten thousand dollars, to our gen'ral use.
King.
No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive
Our bosom-int'rest. Go, pronounce his death;
And with his former Title greet Macbeth.
Rosse.
I'll see it done.
King.
What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won.
[Exeunt.
-- 378 --
SCENE III.
Changes to the Heath.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
1 Witch.
Where hast thou been, sister?
2 Witch.
Killing swine.
3 Witch.
Sister, where thou?
1 Witch.
A sailor's wife had chesnuts in her lap,
And mouncht, and mouncht, and mouncht. Give me, quoth I.
5 note
Aroint thee, witch!—the rump-fed ronyon cries.
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' th' Tyger:
But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
And like a rat without a tail,
I'll do—I'll do—and I'll do.
2 Witch.
I'll give thee a wind.
1 Witch.
Thou art kind.
3 Witch.
And I another.
1 Witch.
I myself have all the other.
-- 379 --
6 noteAnd the very points they blow;
All the quarters that they know,
I' th' ship-man's card.—
I will drain him dry as hay,
Sleep shall neither night nor day
Hang upon his pent-house lid;
7 note
He shall live a man forbid;
Weary sev'n nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak and pine;
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
Look, what I have.
2 Witch.
Shew me, shew me.
1 Witch.
Here I have a pilot's thumb,
Wreckt as homeward he did come.
[Drum within.
3 Witch.
A drum, a drum!
Macbeth doth come!
All.
8 note
The weyward sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land,
-- 380 --
Thus do go about, about,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again to make up nine!
Peace!—the Charm's wound up.
-- 381 --
SCENE IV.
Enter Macbeth and Banquo, with Soldiers, and other attendants.
Mac.
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Ban.
How far is't call'd to Foris?—What are these,
-- 382 --
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire,
That look not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth,
And yet are on't? Live you, or are you aught
9 noteThat man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips.—You should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret,
That you are so.
Macb.
Speak, if you can. What are you?
1 Witch.
All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!
2 Witch.
All-hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!
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' th' name of truth,
1 note
Are ye fantastical, or That indeed
[To the Witches.
Which outwardly ye shew? My noble Partner
You greet with present grace, and great prediction
Of noble Having, and of royal Hope,
That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not.
If you can look into the Seeds of time,
And say, which Grain will grow and which will not;
Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear,
Your favours, nor your hate.
-- 383 --
1 Witch.
Hail!
2 Witch.
Hail!
3 Witch.
Hail!
1 Witch.
Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
2 Witch.
Not so happy, yet much happier.
3 Witch.
Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none;
So, all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
1 Witch.
Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
Mac.
Stay, you imperfect Speakers, tell me more;
2 noteBy Sinel's death, I know, I'm Thane of Glamis;
But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor lives,
A prosp'rous 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 heath 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?
Mac.
Into the air; and what seem'd corporal
Melted, as breath, into the wind.—
'Would they had staid!
Ban.
Were such things here, as we do speak about?
Or have we 3 noteeaten of the insane root,
That takes the Reason prisoner?
Macb.
Your children shall be Kings.
Ban.
You shall be King.
Macb.
And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?
Ban.
To th' self same tune, and words; who's here?
-- 384 --
SCENE V.
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 rebel's fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine, or his. Silenc'd with That,
In viewing o'er the rest o'th' self-same day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afraid of what thy self didst make,
Strange images of death. 4 note
As thick as hail,
Came Post on 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 thee into his sight,
Not pay thee.
Rosse.
And for an earnest of a greater honour,
He bad 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 his borrow'd robes?
Ang.
Who was the Thane, lives yet;
But under heavy judgment bears that life,
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was
-- 385 --
Combin'd with Norway, 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!
[Aside.
The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains.
[To Angus.
Do you not hope, your children shall be Kings?
[To Banquo,
When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no less to them?
Ban.
That, trusted home,
5 noteMight yet enkindle you unto the Crown,
Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange;
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us
In deepest consequence.
Cousins, a word, I pray you.
[To Rosse and Angus.
Macb.
Two truths are told,
[Aside.
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen—
[To Rosse and Angus.
6 note
This supernatural Solliciting
Cannot be ill; cannot be good. If ill,
Why hath it giv'n me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I'm Thane of Cawdor.
If good, 7 note
why do I yield to that suggestion,
-- 386 --
8 note
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs
Against the use of nature; 9 note
present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings.
My thought, whose murther yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my 1 notesingle state of man, that 2 note
Function
Is smother'd in surmise; and nothing is,
But what is not.
Ban.
Look, how our Partner's rapt!
Macb.
If Chance will have me King, why, Chance may crown me,
[Aside.
Without my stir.
Ban.
New Honours, come upon him,
Like our strange garments cleave not to their mould
But with the aid of use.
-- 387 --
Macb.
Come what come may,
[Aside.
3 note
noteTime and the hour runs through the roughest day.
Ban.
Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
Macb.
Give me your favour. 4 note
My dull brain was wrought
With things forgot. Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are registred where every day I turn
[To Rosse and Angus.
The leaf to read them.—Let us tow'rd the King;
Think, upon what hath chanc'd; and at more time,
[To Banquo.
The Interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
Our free hearts each to other.
Ban.
Very gladly.
Macb.
'Till then, enough. Come, friends.
[Exeunt.
-- 388 --
SCENE VI.
Changes to the Palace.
Flourish. Enter King, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, and Attendants.
King.
Is execution done on Cawdor yet?
Or not those in commission yet return'd?
Mal.
My liege,
They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die; 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 dy'd,
As one, that had been * notestudied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,
As 'twere a careless trifle.
King.
There's no art,
5 note
To find the mind's construction in the face:
He was a gentleman, on whom I built
An absolute trust.
Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.
O worthiest Cousin!
The sin of my ingratitude e'en now
Was heavy on me. Thou'rt so far before,
That swiftest wing of recompence is slow,
To overtake thee. 'Would, thou'dst less deserv'd,
-- 389 --
That the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine! Only I've left to say,
More is thy due, than more than all can pay.
Macb.
The service and the loyalty I owe,
In doing it, pays itself. Your Highness' part
Is to receive our duties; and our duties
Are to your Throne, and State, children and servants;
7 note
Which do but what they should, 8 note
by doing every thing,
Safe tow'rd your Love and Honour.
-- 390 --
King.
Welcome hither:
I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
Thou hast no less deserv'd, and must be known
No less to have done so. Let me enfold thee,
And hold thee to my heart.
Ban.
There if I grow,
The harvest is your own.
King.
My plenteous joys,
Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, Thanes,
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 accompanied, invest him only,
But signs of Nobleness, like stars, shall shine
On all deservers.—Hence to Inverness,
And bind us further to you.
Macb.
The Rest is Labour, which is not us'd for you;
I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful
The hearing of my wife with your approach;
So humbly take my leave.
King.
My worthy Cawdor!
Macb.
The Prince of Cumberland!—That is a step,
On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap,
[Aside.
For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires!
9 note
Let not light see my black and deep desires;
-- 391 --
The eye wink at the hand! yet let that be,
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
[Exit.
King.
True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant;
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.
SCENE VII.
Changes to an Apartment in Macbeth's Castle, at Inverness.
Enter Lady Macbeth alone, with a letter.
Lady.
They met me in the day of success; and
I have learn'd 1 noteby the perfectest report, they
have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I
burnt in desire to question them further, they made themselves
air, into which they vanish'd. While I stood rapt
in the wonder of it, came Missives from the King, who
all-hail'd me, Thane of Cawdor; by which title, before,
these weyward sisters saluted me, and referr'd 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 might'st not lose the dues of rejoicing,
by being ignorant of what Greatness is promis'd
thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewel.
-- 392 --
Glamis thou art, and Cawdor—and shalt be
What thou art promis'd. Yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full o' th' 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; 2 note
thou'dst have, great Glamis,
That which cries, thus thou must do, if thou have it;
And That which rather thou dost fear to do,
Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither,
That I may pour my spirits in thine ear,
And chastise with the valour of my tongue
All that impedes thee from the golden Round,
3 note
Which fate, and metaphysical aid, doth seem
To have thee crown'd withal.
-- 393 --
Enter Messenger.
What is your tidings?
Mes.
The King comes here to night.
Lady.
Thou'rt mad to say it.
Is not thy master with him? who, wer't so,
Would have inform'd for preparation.
Mes.
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.
Lady.
Give him tending;
He brings great news. 4 note
The raven himself is hoarse,
[Exit Mes.
-- 394 --
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, all you Spirits
That tend on 5 note
mortal thoughts, unsex me here;
And fill me, from the crown to th' toe, top-full
Of direct cruelty; make thick my blood,
Stop up th' access and passage to Remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, 6 note
nor keep peace between
Th' effect, and it. Come to my woman's breasts,
And * notetake my milk for gall, you murth'ring ministers
Where-ever in your sightless substances
7 note
You wait on nature's mischief.—Come, thick night!
-- 395 --
8 noteAnd pall thee in the dunnest smoak of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes;
Nor heav'n peep through the blanket of the dark,
9 noteTo cry, hold, hold!
Enter Macbeth.
Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor!
[Embracing him.
Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!
Thy letters have transported me beyond
1 note
This ignorant present time, and I feel now
The future in the instant.
Macb.
Dearest love,
Duncan comes here to night.
Lady.
And when goes hence?
Macb.
To morrow, as he purposes.
Lady.
Oh, never
Shall Sun that morrow see!—
Your face, my Thane, is as a book, where men
May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under't. He, that's coming,
Must be provided for; and you shall put
This night's great business into my dispatch,
Which shall to all our nights and days to come
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
Macb.
We will speak further.
Lady.
Only look up clear:
To alter favour, ever, is to fear.
Leave all the rest to me.
[Exeunt.
-- 396 --
SCENE VIII.
Before Macbeth's Castle-Gate.
Hautboys and Torches. Enter King, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lenox, Macduff, Rosse, Angus, and Attendants.
King.
This Castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
2 note
Unto our gentle senses.
Ban.
This guest of summer,
The temple-haunting 3 notemartlet, does approve
By his lov'd Mansionry that heaven's breath
Smells wooingly here. No jutty frieze,
Buttrice, nor coigne of 'vantage, but this bird
Hath made his pendant bed, and procreant cradle;
Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'd,
The air is delicate.
-- 397 --
Enter Lady Macbeth.
King.
See, see! our honour'd Hostess!
The love that follows us, sometimes is our trouble,
Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you,
4 note
How you should bid god-yield us for your pains,
And thank us for your trouble.
Lady.
All our service,
In every point twice done, and then done double,
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,
5 noteWe rest your Hermits.
King.
Where's the Thane of Cawdor?
We courst him at the heels, and had a purpose
To be his purveyor; but he rides well,
And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him
To's home before us. Fair and noble Hostess,
We are your guest to night.
Lady.
Your servants ever
Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in compt,
To make their audit at your Highness' pleasure,
Still to return your own.
King.
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.
-- 398 --
SCENE VIII.
Changes to an Apartment in Macbeth's Castle.
Hautboys, Torches. Enter divers servants with dishes and service over the stage. Then Macbeth.
Macb.
* note
If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well
It were done quickly; if th' assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
† note
With its surcease, success; that but this blow
Might be the Be-all and the End-all—Here.
But here, upon this Bank and 6 noteShoal of time,
We'd jump the life to come.—But, in these cases,
We still have judgment here, that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague th' inventor; this even-handed justice
Commends th' ingredients of our poison'd chalice
To our own lips. He's here in double trust;
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed; then, as his Host,
Who should against his murth'rer shut the door,
Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
7 noteHath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead, like angels, trumpet-tongu'd again
The deep damnation of his taking off;
And Pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, 8 note
or heav'n's cherubin hors'd
-- 399 --
Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in ev'ry eye;
9 noteThat tears shall drown the wind—I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting Ambition, which o'er-leaps itself,
And falls on th' other—
1 note
SCENE X.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
How now? what news?
Lady.
He's almost supp'd; why have you left the chamber?
Macb.
Hath he ask'd for me?
-- 400 --
Lady.
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 sort of people,
Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
Not cast aside so soon.
Lady.
Was the hope drunk,
Wherein you drest 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 afraid
To be the same in thine own act and valour,
As thou art in desire? 2 note
Wouldst thou have That,
Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,
And live a coward in thine own esteem?
Letting I dare not wait upon I would,
3 note
Like the poor Cat i' th' Adage.
Macb.
Pr'ythee, peace.
I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more, is none.
Lady.
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
4 note
Did then cohere, and yet you would make both;
They've made themselves, and that their fitness now
Do's unmake you. I have given suck, and know
How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me;
-- 401 --
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have pluckt my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dash'd the brains out, had I but so sworn
As you have done to this.
Macb.
If we should fail,—
Lady.
We fail!
But screw your courage to the sticking place,
And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep,
Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey
Soundly invite him, his two chamberlains
5 note
Will I with wine and wassel so convince,
That memory, the warder of the brain,
Shall be a fume; and the receipt of reason
6 noteA limbeck only. When in swinish sleep
Their drenched natures lie as in a death,
What cannot you and I perform upon
Th' unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
His spungy officers, 7 note
who shall bear the guilt
Of our great quell?
Macb.
Bring forth men-children only!
For thy undaunted metal should compose
Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv'd,
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?
Lady.
Who dares receive it other,
As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar,
Upon his death?
Macb.
I am settled, and bend up
Each corporal agent to this terrible Feat.
-- 402 --
Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
