Mac^d.
Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
That you do lye so late?

Por.

'Faith, sir, we were carowsing 'till the second cock: and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.

Mac^d.

What three things does drink especially provoke?

Por.

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 ^note sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.

Mac^d.

I believe, drink gave thee the lie last night.

Por.

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 him.

Mac^d.
Is thy master stirring?—

Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes. Enter Macbeth.

Len.
Good-morrow, noble sir!

Mac^b.
Good-morrow both!

Mac^d.
Is the king stirring, worthy thane?

Mac^b.
Not yet.

Mac^d.
He did command me to call timely on him;
I have almost slipt the hour.

Mac^b.
I'll bring you to him.

Mac^d.
I know, this is a joyful trouble to you;
But yet 'tis one.

Mac^b.
The labour we delight in physicks pain.
This is the door.

Mac^d.
I'll make so bold to call,
For 'tis my limited service. [Exit.

Len.
Goes the king hence to-day?

Mac^b.
He does: he did appoint so.

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 prophesying,14Q0505 with accents terrible,
Of dire combustions, ^note and confus'd events,
New hatch'd to the woeful time: The obscure bird
Clamour'd the live-long night: some say, the earth
Was feverous, and did shake.

Mac^b.
'Twas a rough night.

Len.
My young remembrance cannot parallel
A fellow to it. Re-enter Macduff, hastily.

Mac^d.
O horror! horror! horror! Tongue, nor heart,
Cannot conceive, nor name thee!

Mac^b. Len.
What's the matter?

Mac^d.
Confusion now hath made his master-piece!—
Most sacrilegious murther hath broke ope
The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
The life o'the building.

Mac^b.
What is't you say? the life?

Len.
Mean you his majesty?

Mac^d.
Approach ^note 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: [to some Servants, who are entering.
—Murther, and treason!—
Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!
Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
And look on death itself! up, up, and see
The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!
As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprights,
To countenance this horror! [Bell rings. Enter Lady Macbeth.

L. M^b.
What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? speak, speak,—

Mac^d.
O gentle lady,
'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
The repetition, in a woman's ear,
Would murther as it fell.—O Banquo, Banquo, Enter Banquo, and Others.
Our royal master's murther'd!

L. M^b.
Woe, alas!
What, in our house?

Ban.
Too cruel, any where.—
Dear Duff, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself ^note,

And say, it is not so. Re-enter Macbeth, and Lenox.14Q0506

Mac^b.
Had I but dy'd an hour before this chance,
I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant,
There's nothing serious in mortality:
All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead;
The wine of life is drawn, and the meer lees
Is left this vault to brag of. Enter Malcolm, and Donalbain.

Don.
What is amiss?

Mac^b.
You are, and do not know't:
The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
Is stopt; the very source of it is stopt.

Mac^d.
Your royal father's murther'd.

Mal.
O, by whom?

Len.
Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had don't:
Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood,
So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found
Upon their pillows; they star'd, and were distracted,
As no man's life was to be trusted with them.

Mac^b.
O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
That I did kill them.

Mac^d.
Wherefore did you so?

Mac^b.
Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and furious,
Loyal, and neutral, in a moment? No man:
The expedition of my violent love
Out-ran the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan,
His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood;
And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature,
For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murtherers,
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly breech'd with gore: Who could refrain,

That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage, to make his love known?

L. M^b.
Help me hence, ho! [seeming to faint.

Mac^d.
Look to the lady. [gather about her.

Mal.
Why do we hold our tongues,
That most may claim this argument for ours?

Don.
What should be spoken here,
Where our fate, hid within an ^note augre hole,
May rush, and seize us? Let's away.
Our tears are not yet brew'd.

Mal.
Nor our strong sorrow
Upon the foot of motion.

Ban.
Look to the lady.— [L. Macbeth is carry'd out.
And when we have our naked frailties hid,
That suffer in exposure, let us meet,
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 malice.

Mac^d.
And so do I.

all.
So all.

Mac^b.
Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i'the hall together.

all.
Well contented. [Exeunt Mac^b. Ban. Mac^d. Len. &c.

Mal.
What will you do? Let's not consort with them:
To shew an unfelt sorrow, is an office
Which the false man does easy: I'll to England.

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 bloody.

Mal.
This murtherous shaft that's shot,
Hath not yet lighted; and our safest way
Is, to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse; ^note
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. The same. Without the Castle. Enter Rosse, and an old Man.

o. m.
Three-score and ten14Q0507 I can remember well:
Within the volume of which time, I have seen
Hours dreadful, and things strange; but this sore night
Hath trifl'd former knowings.

Ros.
Ah, good father,
Thou seest ^note, the heavens, as troubl'd with man's act,
Threaten ^note his bloody ^note stage: by the clock, 'tis day,
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
Is it night's predominance, or the day's shame,
That darkness does the face of earth intomb,
When living light should kiss ^note it?

o. m.
'Tis unnatural,
Even like the deed that's done. On tuesday last,
A faulcon, tow'ring in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawkt at, and kill'd.

Ros.
And Duncan's horses, (a thing most strange, and certain)
Beauteous, and swift, the minions of their race ^note,
Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would
Make war with man. ^note

o. m.
'Tis said, they eat each other.

Ros.
They did so; to the amazement of mine eyes,

That look't upon't. Here comes the good Macduff:— Enter Macduff.
How goes the world, sir, now?

Mac^d.
Why, see you not?

Ros.
Is't known, who did this more than bloody deed?

Mac^d.
Those that Macbeth hath slain.

Ros.
Alas the day!
What good could they pretend?

Mac^d.
They were suborn'd:
Malcolm, and Donalbain, the king's two sons,
Are stoln away and fled; which puts upon them
Suspicion of the deed.

Ros.
'Gainst nature still:
Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin ^note up ^note
Thine own life's means!—Then 'tis most like,
The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.

Mac^d.
He is already nam'd; and gone to Scone,
To be invested.

Ros.
Where is Duncan's body?

Mac^d.
Carry'd to Colme-kill;
The sacred store-house of his predecessors,
And guardian of their bones.

Ros.
Will you to Scone?

Mac^d.
No, cousin, I'll to Fife.

Ros.
Well, I will thither.

Mac^d.
Well, may you see things well done there;—Adieu!—
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new. [Exit.

Ros.
Farewel, father.

o. m.
God's benison go with you, sir; ^note and with those,
That would make good of bad, and friends of foes! [Exeunt severally.

ACT III. SCENE I. Foris. A Room in the Palace. Enter Banquo.

Ban.
Thou hast it now, king, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weird women promis'd; and, I fear,
Thou play'dst most foully for't: yet it was 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 shine)
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. Flourish. Enter Macbeth, as King; Lady Macbeth, Queen; Rosse, Lenox, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants.

Mac^b.
Here's our chief guest.

L. M^b.
If he had been forgotten,
It had been as a gap in our great feast,
And all things ^note unbecoming.

Mac^b.
To-night we hold a solemn supper, sir,
And I'll request your presence.

Ban.
Lay your ^note highness
Command upon me; to the which, my duties
Are with a most indissoluble tye
For ever knit.

Mac^b.
Ride you this afternoon?

Ban.
Ay, my good lord.

Mac^b.
We should have else desir'd your good advice

(Which still hath been both grave and prosperous)
In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow.
Is't far you ride?

Ban.
As far, my lord, as will fill up the time
'Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better,
I must become a borrower of the night,
For a dark hour, or twain.

Mac^b.
Fail not our feast.

Ban.
My lord, I will not.

Mac^b.
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. Hye to ^note horse: Adieu,
'Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you?

Ban.
Ay, my good lord; our time does call upon us.

Mac^b.
I wish your horses swift, and sure of foot:
And so I do commend you to their backs.
Farewel.— [Exit Banquo.
Let every man14Q0508 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, &c.
Sirrah, a word with you; Attend those men our pleasure?

Att.
They are, my lord, without the palace gate.

Mac^b.
Bring them before us. [Exit Att.] To be thus, is nothing;
But, to be safely thus:—Our fears in Banquo
Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature
Reigns that, which would be fear'd: 'Tis much he dares;
And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,

He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
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 Cæsar. ^note He chid the fisters, ^note
When first they put the name of king upon me,
And bad 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 scepter in my gripe,
Thence to be wrench'd with an ^note unlineal hand,
No son of mine succeeding. If it be so,
For Banquo's issue have I fil'd my mind;
For them the gracious Duncan have I murther'd;
Put rancours in the vessel of my peace
Only for them; and mine eternal jewel
Given to the common enemy of man,
To make them kings, the seed ^note of Banquo kings:
Rather than so, come, fate, into the list,
And champion me to the utterance.—Who's there?— Re-enter Attendant, with two Murtherers.
Now go to the door, and stay there till we call.— [Exit Attendant.
Was it not yesterday we spoke together?

Mur.
It was, so please your highness.

Mac^b.
Well then, now
Have you consider'd14Q0509 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, past in probation with you;
How you were born in hand; how crost; the instruments;

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. M.
You made it known to us.

Mac^b.
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 gospel'd,
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?

1. M.
We are men, my liege.

Mac^b.
Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men;
As hounds, and greyhounds, mungrels, spaniels, curs,
Shocks, water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are clept
All by the name of dogs: the valu'd file
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
Particular addition, from the bill
That writes them all alike: and so of men.
Now, if you have a station in the file,
And not in 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. M.
I am one, my liege,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
Have so ^note incens'd, that I am reckless what

I do, to spite the world.

1. M.
And I another,
So weary'd with ^note disasters, tug'd with fortune,
That I would set my life on any chance,
To mend it, or be rid on't.

Mac^b.
Both of you
Know, Banquo was your enemy.

Mur.
True, my lord.

Mac^b.
So is he mine: and in such bloody distance,
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 friends that are both his and mine,
Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall
Who ^note 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. M.
We shall, my lord,
Perform what you command us.

1. M.
Though our lives—

Mac^b.
Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour, at most,
I will advise you where to plant yourselves;
Acquaint you with the perfect spy o'the time,14Q0510
The moment on't; for 't must be done to-night,
And something from the palace; always thought,
That I require a clearness: And with him,
(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 anon.

Mur.
We are resolv'd, my lord.

Mac^b.
I'll call upon you straight; abide within. [Exeunt Murtherers.
It is concluded:—Banquo, thy soul's flight,
If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. [Exit. SCENE II. The same. Another Room. Enter Lady Macbeth, and an Attendant.

L. M^b.
Is Banquo gone from court?

Att.
Ay, madam; but returns again to-night.

L. M^b.
Say to the king, I would attend his leisure
For a few words.

Att.
Madam, I will. [Exit Attendant.

L. M^b.
Nought's had, all's spent,
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 fancies your companions making?
Using those thoughts, which should indeed have dy'd
With them they think on? Things without all remedy
Should be without regard: what's done, is done.

Mac^b.
We have scotch'd ^note the snake,14Q0511 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 suffer,
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, ^note have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lye
In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well;
Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
Malice domestick, foreign levy, nothing,
Can touch him further.

L. M^b.
Come on; Gentle my lord,
Sleek o'er your rugged looks; be bright and jovial
Among ^note your guests to-night.

Mac^b.
So shall I, love;
And so, I pray, be you: let your remembrance ^note
Apply to Banquo; present him eminence, 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 are.

L. M^b.
You must leave this.

Mac^b.
O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
Thou know'st, that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. ^note

L. M^b.
But in them nature's copy's not etern.

Mac^b.
There's comfort yet, they are assailable;
Then be thou jocund: Ere the bat hath flown
His cloister'd flight; ere, to black Hecat's summons,
The shard-born beetle, with his drowsy hums,
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
A deed of dreadful note.

L. M^b.
What's to be done?

Mac^b.
Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
'Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night,
Scarf 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 pale! Light thickens; and the crow
Makes wing to the rooky wood:
Good things of day begin to droop and drowze;
While night's black agents to their preys do rouse.
Thou marvel'st at my words: but hold thee still;
Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by ill:
So, pr'ythee, go with me. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. A Park: Gate leading to the Palace. Enter three Murtherers.

1. M.
But who did bid thee join with us?

3. M.
Macbeth.

2. M.
He needs not our mistrust; since he delivers
Our offices, and what we have to do,
To the direction just.

1. M.
Then stand with us.
The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:
Now spurs the lated traveller ^note apace,
To gain the timely inn; and near ^note approaches
The subject of our watch.

3. M.
Hark! I hear horses.

Ban. [within.]
Give us a light there, ho!

2. M.
'Tis he ^note; the rest,
That are within the note of expectation,
Already are i'the court.

1. M.
His horses go about.

3. M.
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; Servant, with a Torch, before them.

&clquo;2. M.
&clquo;A light, a light!&crquo;

&clquo;3. M.
&clquo;'Tis he.&crquo;

&clquo;1. M.
&clquo;Stand to't.&crquo;

Ban.
It will be rain to-night.

1. M.
Let it come down. [assaulting him.

Ban.
O, treachery!—Fly, good Fleance ^note, fly, fly, fly;
Thou may'st revenge.—O slave! [dies. Fleance, and Servant, fly.

3. M.
Who did strike out the light?

1. M.
Was't not the way?

3. M.
There's but one down; the son is fled.

2. M.
We have lost
Best half of our affair.

1. M.
Well, let's away,
And say how much is done. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same. A Hall of State in the Palace. A Banquet set out. Flourish. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.

Mac^b.
You know your own degrees, sit down14Q0512: ^note and first,
And last, the hearty welcome.

Lor.
Thanks to your majesty. [they sit.

Mac^b.
Ourself will mingle with society,
And play the humble host.
Our hostess keeps her state; but, in best ^note time,
We will require her welcome.

L. M^b.
Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;
For my heart speaks, they are welcome.

Mac^b.
See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.—
Both sides are even: here I'll sit i'the mid'st: Enter first Murtherer, to the Door.
Be large in mirth; anon, we'll drink a measure

The table round.—&clquo;There's blood upon thy face.&crquo;

&clquo;1. M.
&clquo;'Tis Banquo's then.&crquo;

&clquo;Mac^b.
&clquo;'Tis better thee without, than him within ^note.&crquo;
&clquo;Is he dispatch'd?&crquo;

&clquo;1. M.
&clquo;My lord, his throat is cut, that I did for him.&crquo;

&clquo;Mac^b.
&clquo;Thou art the best o'the cut-throats: Yet he's good,&crquo;
&clquo;That did the like for Fleance: if thou did'st it,&crquo;
&clquo;Thou art the non-pareil.&crquo;

&clquo;1. M.
&clquo;Most royal sir,&crquo;
&clquo;Fleance is scap'd.&crquo;

&clquo;Mac^b.
&clquo;Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect;&crquo;
&clquo;Whole as the marble, founded as the rock;&crquo;
&clquo;As broad, and general, as the casing air:&crquo;
&clquo;But now, I am cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd, bound in&crquo;
&clquo;To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe?&crquo;

&clquo;1. M.
&clquo;Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,&crquo;
&clquo;With twenty trenched gashes on his head;&crquo;
&clquo;The least a death to nature.&crquo;

&clquo;Mac^b.
&clquo;Thanks for that:&crquo;—
&clquo;There the grown serpent lies; the worm, that's fled,&crquo;
&clquo;Hath nature that in time will venom breed,&crquo;
&clquo;No teeth for the present.—Get thee gone; to-morrow&crquo;
&clquo;We'll hear thee ourselves ^note again.&crquo; [Exit Murtherer.

L. M^b.
My royal lord,
You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold,
That is not often vouch'd while 'tis a ^note making;
'Tis given with welcome: to feed, were best at home;
From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony;
Meeting were bare without it.

Mac^b.
Sweet remembrancer!—
Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!

Len.
May't please your highness sit? Ghost of Banquo rises, and sits in Macbeth's Place.

Mac^b.
Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,
Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present:
Who ^note may I rather challenge for unkindness,
Than pity for mischance.

Ros.
His absence, sir,
Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness
To grace us with your royal company?

Mac^b.
The table's full. [starting.

Len.
Here is a place reserv'd, sir.

Mac^b.
Where?

Len.
Here, my good lord. What is't, that moves your highness?

Mac^b.
Which of you have done this?

Lor.
What, my good lord?

Mac^b.
Thou can'st not say, I did it: never shake
Thy goary locks at me.

Ros.
Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not well.

L. M^b.
Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus,
And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat;
The fit is momentary; upon a thought
He will again be well: If much you note him,
You shall offend him, and extend his passion;
Feed, and regard him not.—&clquo;Are you a man?&crquo;14Q0513

&clquo;Mac^b.
&clquo;Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that&crquo;
&clquo;Which might appall the devil.&crquo;

&clquo;L. M^b.
&clquo;O proper stuff!&crquo;
&clquo;This is the very painting of your fear:&crquo;
&clquo;This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said,&crquo;
&clquo;Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws, and starts,&crquo;
&clquo;(Impostures ^note of true ^note fear) would well become&crquo;
&clquo;A woman's story, at a winter's fire,&crquo;

&clquo;Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself!&crquo;
&clquo;Why do you make such faces? When all's done,&crquo;
&clquo;You look but on a stool.&crquo;

&clquo;Mac^b.
&clquo;Pr'ythee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you?&crquo;—
&clquo;Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.&crquo;—
&clquo;If charnel-houses, and our graves, must send&crquo;
&clquo;Those that we bury back, our monuments&crquo;
&clquo;Shall be the maws of kites.&crquo; [Ghost vanishes.

&clquo;L. M^b.
&clquo;What, quite unman'd in folly?&crquo;

&clquo;Mac^b.
&clquo;If I stand here, I saw him.&crquo;

&clquo;L. M^b.
&clquo;Fie, for shame!&crquo;

&clquo;Mac^b.
&clquo;Blood hath been shed ere now, i'the olden time,&crquo;
&clquo;Ere human statute purg'd the general weal ^note;&crquo;
&clquo;Ay, and since too, murthers have been perform'd&crquo;
&clquo;Too terrible for the ear: the times have been ^note,&crquo;
&clquo;That, when the brains were out, the man would dye,&crquo;
&clquo;And there an end: but now, they rise again,&crquo;
&clquo;With twenty mortal murthers on their crowns,&crquo;
&clquo;And push us from our stools: This is more strange&crquo;
&clquo;Than such a murther is.&crquo;

L. M^b.
My worthy lord,
Your noble friends do lack you.

Mac^b.
I do forget:—
Do not muse at me, 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,
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;
('Would he were here!) to all, and him, we thirst,
And all to all.

Lor.
Our duties, and the pledge.

Ghost rises again.

Mac^b.
Avant! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee!
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with.

L. M^b.
Think of this, good peers,
But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.

Mac^b.
What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hircanian ^note tiger,
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;
If trembling I inhibit ^note then ^note14Q0514, protest me
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! [Ghost vanishes.
Unreal mockery, hence!—Why, so; being gone,
I am a man again.—Pray you, sit still.

L. M^b.
You have displac'd the mirth, broke the good meeting,
With most admir'd disorder.

Mac^b.
Can such things be,
And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
Without our special wonder? You make me strange
Even to the disposition that I owe,
When now I think you can behold such sights,
And keep the natural ruby of your cheek, ^note
When mine is blanch'd with fear.

Ros.
What sights ^note, my lord?

L. M^b.
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!

L. M^b.
A kind good night to all! [Exeunt Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.

Mac^b.
It will have blood, they say14Q0515; Blood will have blood:
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak;
Augurs, that understood ^note relations, have
By mag-pies ^note, and by choughs, and rooks, brought forth
The secret'st man of blood.—What is the night?

L. M^b.
Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

Mac^b.
How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person
At our great bidding?

L. M^b.
Did you send to him, sir?

Mac^b.
I hear it by the way; but I will send:
There's not a thane of ^note them, but in his house
I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow
(Betimes I will) unto the ^note weird ^note sisters:
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 ^note so far, that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er:
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
Which must be acted, ere they may be scan'd.

L. M^b.
You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

Mac^b.
Come, we'll to sleep: My strange and self abuse
Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use:
We are yet but young in deed. ^note [Exeunt. SCENE V. The Heath. Thunder. Enter, from opposite Sides, Hecate, and the three Witches.

1. W.
Why, how now, Hecat? you look angerly.

Hec.
Have I not reason, beldams, as you are,
Saucy, and over-bold? 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 shew the glory of our art?
And, which is worse, all you have done
Hath been but for a weyward son,
Spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do,
Loves for his own ends, not for you.
But make amends now: Get you gone,
And at the pit of Acheron
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, fatal ^note end.
Great business must be wrought ere noon:
Upon the corner of the moon
There hangs a vap'rous drop profound;
I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
And that, distill'd by magick slights,
Shall raise such ^note 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.
SONG. [within.]
Come away, Come away, &c.
Hark, I am call'd; my little spirit, see,
Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Exit.

1. W.
Come, let's make haste, she'll soon be back again. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Foris. A Room in the Palace. Enter Lenox, and another Lord.

Len.
My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,
Which can interpret farther: only, I say,
Things have been strangely born: The gracious Duncan
Was pity'd 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 thought,14Q0516 how monsterous
It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain,
To kill their gracious father? damned fact!
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 born all things well: and I do think,
That, had he Duncan's sons under his key, ^note
(As, an't please heaven, he shall not) they should find ^note
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?

Lor.
The son ^note of Duncan,14Q0517
From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
Lives in ^note 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, on his ^note aid
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Seyward:
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 knives;
Do faithful homage, and receive free honours,
All which we pine for now: And this report
Hath so exasperate ^note the king ^note, that he
Prepares for some attempt. ^note

Len.
Sent he to Macduff?

Lor.
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 caution, 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
May soon return to this our suffering country ^note,
Under a hand accurst!

Lor.
I'll send my prayers with him. [Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I. A Cavern: A Cauldron, in the Middle, boiling. Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1. W.
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.

2. W.
Thrice, and ^note once, the hedge ^note-pig whin'd.

3. W.
Harper cries, 'tis time, 'tis time.

1. W.
Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.—
  Toad, that under the cold stone
  Days and nights hast ^note thirty one
  Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
  Boil thou † first i'the charm'd pot.

all.
  Double, double, toil and trouble;
  Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble.

2. W.
  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 † fork, and blind-worm's † sting,
  Lizard's † leg, and owlet's † wing,
  For a charm of powerful trouble,
  Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

all.
  Double, double, toil and trouble;
  Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble.

3. W.
  Scale of † dragon, tooth of † wolf,
  Witches' † mummy; maw, and gulf,
  Of the ravin'd ^note salt-sea † shark;
  Root of † hemlock, dig'd i' the' dark;

  Liver † of blaspheming Jew;
  Gall of † goat; and slips of † yew,
  Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse;
  Nose of † Turk, and Tartar's † lips;
  Finger of † birth-strangl'd babe,
  Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
  Make the gruel thick and slab:
  Add thereto a tyger's † chaudron,
  For th' ingredience of our cauldron.

all.
  Double, double, toil and trouble;
  Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble.

2. W.
  Cool it with a baboon's † blood,
  Then the charm is firm and good. Enter Hecate, and other three Witches.14Q0518

Hec.
O, well done! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i' the gains.
And now about the cauldron sing,
Like elves and fairies in a ring,
Inchanting all that you put in. [Musick.
SONG.
Black spirits,14Q0519 &c.

2. W.
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes:—
Open, locks, Whoever knocks. Enter Macbeth.

Mac^b.
How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags?
What is't you do?

all.
A deed without a name.

Mac^b.
I cónjure you, by that which you profess,
(Howe'er you come to know it) answer me:
Though you untye the winds, and let them fight
Against the churches; though the yesty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up;

Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown down;
Though castles topple on their warders' heads;
Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope ^note
Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
Of nature's germins ^note tumble all together,
Even 'till destruction sicken, answer me
To what I ask you.

1. W.
Speak.

2. W.
Demand.

3. W.
We'll answer.

1. W.
Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,
Or from our masters'?

Mac^b.
Call them, let me see them.

1. W.
  Pour in † sow's blood, that hath eaten
  Her nine farrow; grease, † that's sweaten
  From the murtherer's gibbet, throw
  Into the flame.

all.
  Come, high, or low;
  Thyself, and office, deftly show. Thunder. Apparition of an arm'd Head rises.

Mac^b.
Tell me, thou unknown power,—

1. W.
He knows thy thought;
Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

App.
Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth, beware Macduff;
Beware the thane of Fife.—Dismiss me: Enough. [descends.

Mac^b.
Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;
Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: But one word more.

1. W.
He will not be commanded: Here's another,
More potent than the first. Thunder. Apparition of a bloody Child rises.

App.
Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth,—

Mac^b.
Had I three ears, I'd hear thee.

App.
Be bloody, bold, and resolute: laugh to scorn
The power of man; for none of woman born
Shall harm Macbeth. [descends.

Mac^b.
Then live, Macduff; What need I fear of thee?
But yet I'll make assurance double sure,
And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lies,
And sleep in spight of thunder.—What is this, Thunder. Apparition of a Child crown'd, 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 sovereignty?

all.
Listen, but speak not.

App.
Be lion-mettl'd, proud; and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until
Great Birnam wood to Dunsinane ^note high ^note hill
Shall come against him. [descends.

Mac^b.
That will never be:
Who can impress the forest; bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? sweet boadments! good!—
Rebellious head ^note,14Q0520 rise never, 'till the wood
Of Birnam ^note 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.

Mac^b.
I will be satisfy'd: deny me this,
And an eternal curse fall on you: let me know:—

[Thunder; and the Cauldron sinks. Horrid Musick.
Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?

1. W.
Shew.

2. W.
Shew.

3. W.
Shew.

all.
Shew his eyes, and grieve his heart;
Come like shadows, so depart. Eight Kings appear, and pass over in Order; the last, with a Glass in his Hand: Banquo following.

Mac^b.
Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down;
Thy crown does fear mine eye-balls:—And thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first:—
A third, is like the former: (Filthy hags,
Why do you shew me this?)—A fourth?—Start, eyes! ^note
What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?—
Another yet?—A seventh?—I'll see no more:
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
Which shews me many more; and some I see,
That twofold balls and treble scepters carry:
Horrible sight!—Nay, now, I see, 'tis true;
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his.—What, is this so?

1. W.
Ay, sir, all this is so: But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?—
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights,
And shew the best of our delights;
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antique ^note round:
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay. [Musick. The Witches ^note dance, and vanish.

Mac^b.
Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour
Stand aye accursed in the kalendar!—
Come in, without there!

Enter Lenox.

Len.
What's your grace's will?

Mac^b.
Saw you the weird ^note sisters?

Len.
No, my lord.

Mac^b.
Came they not by you?

Len.
No, indeed, my lord.

Mac^b.
Infected be the air whereon they ride;
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?

Mac^b.
Fled to England?

Len.
Ay, my good lord.

Mac^b.
Time, thou anticipat'st14Q0521 my dread exploits:
The flighty purpose never is o'er-took,
Unless the deed go with it: From this moment,
The very firstlings ^note of my heart shall be
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 surprize;
Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o'the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace him in his line. No boasting, like a fool;
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool:
But no more sights.—Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Fife. A Room in Macduff's Castle. Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Rosse.

L. M^d.
What had he done, to make him fly the land?

Ros.
You must have patience, madam.

L. M^d.
He had none:

His flight was madness: When our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors.

Ros.
You know not,
Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.

L. M^d.
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 touch: for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All is the fear, and nothing is the love;
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason.

Ros.
My dearest coz',
I pray you, school yourself: But, for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
The fits o'the season. I dare not speak much further:
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,
And do not know ^note ourselves; when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear;
But float upon a wild and violent sea,
And move each way. ^note14Q0522 I take my leave of you:
Shall ^note 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. M^d.
Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.

Ros.
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.

L. M^d.
Sirrah, your father's dead;
And what will you do now? How will you live?

Son.
As birds do, mother.

L. M^b.
What, with worms, and flies?

Son.
With what I get, I mean ^note; and so do they.

L. M^d.
Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the net, nor line, ^note
The pit-fall, nor the gin.

Son.
Why should I, mother?
Poor birds they are not set for. But my father's
Not dead, for all your saying.

L. M^d.
Yes, he is dead:
How wilt thou do now for a father?

Son.
Nay,
How will you do for a husband?

L. M^d.
Why, I can buy me
Twenty at any market.

Son.
Then you'll buy 'em
To sell again.

L. M^d.
Thou speak'st with all ^note thy wit;
And yet, i'faith, with wit enough for thee.

Son.
Was my father a traitor, mother?

L. M^d.
Ay, that he was.

Son.
What is a traitor?

L. M^d.
Why, one that swears and lies.

Son.
And be all traitors, that do so?

L. M^d.

Every one, that does so, is a traitor, and must be hang'd.

Son.

And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lye?

L. M^d.

Every one.

Son.

Who must hang them?

L. M^d.

Why, the honest men.

Son.

Then the liars and swearers are fools: for there are liars and swearers enough, to beat the honest men, and hang up them.

L. M^d.

Now God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father?

Son.

If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.

L. M^d.
Poor ^note pratler, how thou talk'st! Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
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 less to ^note you,14Q0523 were fell cruelty,
Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!
I dare abide no longer. [Exit Messenger.

L. M^d.
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 ^note no harm?—What are these faces? Enter certain Murtherers. ^note

1. M.
Where is your husband?

L. M^d.
I hope, in no place so unsanctify'd,
Where such as thou may'st find him.

1. M.
He's a traitor.

Son.
Thou ly'st, thou shag-ear'd villain.

1. M.
What, you egg? [stabbing him.
Young fry of treachery?

Son.
He has kill'd me, mother;

Run away, I pray you. [Dies. Exit Lady ^note Macduff, crying Murther; Murtherers ^note pursue her. SCENE III. A Room in Edward the Confessor's Palace. Enter Malcolm, and Macduff.

Mal.
Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
Weep our sad bosoms empty.

Mac^d.
Let us rather14Q0524
Hold fast the mortal sword; and, like good men,
Bestride our down-fall ^note birthdom: 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 syllables ^note of dolour.

Mal.
What I believe, I'll wail;
What know, believe; and, what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you have lov'd him well;
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but something
You may discern of ^note him through me: and wisdom,
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,
To appease an angry god.

Mac^d.
I am not treacherous.

Mal.
But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil,
In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon;
That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose:
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell:
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.

Mac^d.
I have lost my hopes.

Mal.
Perchance, even there, where I did find my doubts.
Why in that rawness left your wife, ^note and children, ^note
(Those precious motives, those strong knots of love)
Without leave-taking? I pray you,
Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
But mine own safeties: you may be rightly just,
Whatever I shall think.

Mac^d.
Bleed, bleed, poor country!
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dare ^note not check thee! wear thou thy wrongs,
The title is afeard!—Fare thee well, lord:
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 yoak;
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.

Mac^d.
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 harms.

Mac^d.
Not, in the legions
Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd
In ills, to top Macbeth.

Mal.
I ^note grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaritious, false, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious, smacking ^note 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
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.

Mac^d.
Boundless intemperance
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 vultur 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.

Mac^d.
This avarice14Q0525
Sticks deeper; ^note grows with more pernicious root,
Than summer-teeming ^note lust: and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings: Yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foizons to fill up your will,
Of your meer own: All these are portable,
With other graces weigh'd.

Mal.
But I have none: The king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temp'rance, ^note stableness,
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 earth.

Mac^d.
O, Scotland, Scotland!

Mal.
If such a one be fit to govern, speak:
I am as I have spoken.

Mac^d.
Fit to govern!
No, not to live.—O nation miserable,
With an untitl'd tyrant bloody-scepter'd,
When shalt thou see thy wholesom days again?
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accurst ^note,
And does blaspheme his breed?—Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore thee,

Oftner upon her knees than on her feet,
Dy'd every day she lived. Fare thee well!
These evils,14Q0526 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. Dev'lish Macbeth,
By many of these trains, hath sought to win me
Into his power: and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous haste: But God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now
I put myself to thy direction, and
Unspeak mine own detraction; ^note here abjure
The taints and blames I lay'd upon myself,
For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman; ^note never was forsworn; ^note
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 ^note-approach,
Old Seyward, with ten thousand warlike men,
All ready ^note at a point ^note, was setting forth:
Now we'll together; And the chance, of goodness,
Be like our unwarranted ^note quarrel! Why are you silent?

Mac^d.
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?

Doc.
Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched souls,
That stay his cure: their malady convinces
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.

Mac^d.
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 sollicits heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The meer despair of surgery, he cures;
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy;
And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace. Enter Rosse.

Mac^d.
See, who comes here?

Mal.
My countryman; but yet I know him not.

Mac^d.
My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

Mal.
I know him now: Good God, betimes remove
The means ^note that makes us strangers!

Ros.
Sir, amen.

Mac^d.
Stands Scotland where it did?

Ros.
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 ^note the air,
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
A modern extasy14Q0527: the dead man's knell
Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps,
Dying, or ere they sicken.

Mac^d.
O, relation,
Too nice, and yet too true!

Mal.
What is the newest grief?

Ros.
That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker;
Each minute teems a new one.

Mac^d.
How does my wife?

Ros.
Why, well.

Mac^d.
And all my children?

Ros.
Well too.

Mac^d.
The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?

Ros.
No; they were well at peace, when I did leave them.

Mac^d.
Be not a niggard of your speech; How goes't?

Ros.
When I came hither to transport the tidings,
Which I have heavily born, there ran a rumour
Of many worthy fellows that were out;
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 distresses.

Mal.
Be it their comfort,
We are coming thither: gracious England hath
Lent us good Seyward, and ten thousand men;
An older and a better soldier, none

That Christendom gives out.

Ros.
'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 them. ^note

Mac^d.
What concern they?
The general cause? or is it a fee grief,
Due to some single breast?

Ros.
No mind, that's honest,
But in it shares some woe; though the main part
Pertains to you alone.

Mac^d.
If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

Ros.
Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
That ever yet they heard.

Mac^d.
Hum! I guess at it.

Ros.
Your castle is surpriz'd; your wife, and babes,
Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,
Were, on the quarry of these murther'd deer,
To add the death of you.

Mal.
Merciful heaven!—
What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak,
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.

Mac^d.
My children too?

Ros.
Wife, children, servants, all
That could be found.

Mac^d.
And I must be from thence!—
My wife kill'd too?

Ros.
I have said.

Mal.
Be comforted:

Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.

Mac^d.
He has no children.—All my pretty ones?
Did you say, all?—O hell-kite!—All?
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell swoop?

Mal.
Dispute it like a man.

Mac^d.
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 strook 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
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.

Mac^d.
O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue!—But, gentle heaven,
Cut short all intermission; front to front,
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself;
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Heaven, forgive him too!

Mal.
This tune goes ^note 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 instruments. Receive what cheer you may;
The night is long, that never finds the day. [Exeunt. ACT V.

SCENE I. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Enter a Doctor of Physick, and a Waiting-Gentlewoman.

Doc.

I have two nights ^note watch'd with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walk'd?

Gen.

Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

Doc.

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?

Gen.

That, sir, which I will not report ^note after her.

Doc.

You may, to me; and 'tis most meet you should.

Gen.

Neither to you, nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech.

Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep: Observe her; stand close.

Doc.

How came she by that light?

Gen.

Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually, 'tis her command.

Doc.

You see, her eyes are open.

Gen.

Ay, but their sense is shut ^note.

Doc.

What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.

Gen.

It is an accustom'd action with her, to seem thus washing her hands; I have known her continue in this

a quarter of an hour.

L. M^b.

Yet here's a spot.

Doc.

Hark, she speaks: I will set down14Q0528 what comes from her, [taking out his Tables] to satisfy ^note my remembrance the more strongly.

L. M^b.

Out, damned spot! out, I say!—One; Two; Why, then 'tis time to do't: Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? 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 him?

Doc.

Do you mark that?

L. M^b.

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 ^note starting.

Doc.

Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.

Gen.

She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that; heaven knows what she has known.

L. M^b.

Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. O, o, o!

Doc.

What a sigh is there? The heart is sorely charg'd.

Gen.

I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body.

Doc.

Well, well, well,—

Gen.

Pray God, it be, sir.

Doc.

This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which have walk'd in their sleep, who have dy'd holily in their beds.

L. M^b.

Wash your hands, put on your night-gown;

look not so pale:—I tell you yet again, Banquo's bury'd; he cannot come out of's grave.

Doc.

Even so?

L. M^b.

To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate: Come, come, come, come, give me your hand; What's done, cannot be undone; to bed, to bed, to bed.

Doc.

Will she go now to bed?

Gen.

Directly.

Doc.
Foul whisp'rings 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;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her: So, good night:
My mind she has mated, ^note and amaz'd my sight:
I think, but dare not speak.

Gen.
Good night, good doctor. [Exeunt severally. SCENE II. Country near Dunsinane. Enter, with Drum and Colours, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers, marching.

Men.
The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,
His uncle Seyward, and the good Macduff.
Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes14Q0529
Would, to ^note the bleeding, and the grim alarm,
Excite the mortify'd man.

Ang.
Near Birnam wood
Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.

Cat.
Who knows, if Donalbain be with his brother?

Len.
For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file

Of all the gentry; there is Seyward's son,
And many unrough youths, that even now
Protest their first of manhood.

Men.
What does the tyrant?

Cat.
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 rule.

Ang.
Now does he feel
His secret murthers 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.

Men.
Who then shall blame
His pester'd senses to recoil, and start,
When all that is within him does condemn
Itself, for being there.

Cat.
Well, march we on,
To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd:
Meet we the med'cin of the sickly weal;
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 weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam ^note. [Exeunt marching. SCENE III. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Enter Macbeth; Doctor, and Others, attending.

Mac^b.
Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:

'Till Birnam ^note wood remove to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? Spirits, that know14Q0530
All mortal consequences, have pronounc'd me,
Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman,
Shall e'er have power upon thee. Then fly, false thanes,
And mingle with the English epicures:
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never sag with doubt, nor shake with fear. Enter an Attendant, hastily.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon!
Where got'st thou that goose look?

Att.
There is ten thousand.

Mac^b.
Geese, villain?

Att.
Soldiers, sir.

Mac^b.
Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lilly-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
Death of thy soul! those linnen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?

Att.
The English force, so please you.

Mac^b.
Take thy face hence.—Seyton!—I am ^note sick at heart,
When I behold—Seyton, I say!—This push
Will cheer me ever, or disease ^note me now.
I have liv'd long enough: my way of ^note life
Is faln into the sear, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not.—
Seyton! Enter Seyton.

Sey.
What is your gracious pleasure?

Mac^b.
What news more?

Sey.
All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.

Mac^b.
I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.—
Give me my armour.

Sey.
'Tis not needed yet.

Mac^b.
I'll put it on.
Send out more horses, skirr the country round;
Hang those that talk of fear. ^note—Give me mine armour.—
How does your patient, doctor?

Doc.
Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubl'd with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.

Mac^b.
Cure her ^note of that:
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Rase ^note out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuft bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?

Doc.
Therein the patient
Must minister to himself. ^note

Mac^b.
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, dispatch:—If thou could'st, doctor, cast
The water of my land, 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.—
What rhubarb, ^note senna, or what purgative drug,
Would scour these English hence? Hearest thou of them?

Doc.
Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
Makes us hear something.

Mac^b.
Bring it after me.—
I will not be afraid of death and bane,
'Till Birnam ^note forest come to Dunsinane.

&clquo;Doc.
&clquo;Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,&crquo;
&clquo;Profit again should hardly draw me here.&crquo; [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Plains leading to Dunsinane; a Wood adjacent. Enter, with Drum and Colours, Malcolm; old Seyward, and his Son; Macduff, Menteth, and the other Thanes, and Soldiers, marching.

Mal.
Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand,
That chambers will be safe.

Men.
We doubt it nothing.

o. S.
What wood is this before us?

Men.
The wood of Birnam ^note.

Mal.
Let every soldier hew him down a bough,
And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our host, and make discovery
Err in report of us.

Sol.
It shall be done.

o. S.
We learn no other, but the confident tyrant
Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
Our setting down before it.

Mal.
'Tis his main hope:
For where there is advantage to be gone, ^note
Both more and less have given him the revolt;
And none serve with him but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.

Mac^d.
Let our just censures ^note
Attend the true event, and put we on

Industrious soldiership.

o. S.
The time approaches,
That will with due decision make us know
What we shall say we have, and what we owe.
Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate;
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:
Towards which, advance the war. [Exeunt marching. SCENE V. Dunsinane. A Plat-form within the Castle. Enter, with Drum and Colours, Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers.

Mac^b.
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 lye,
'Till famine, and the ague, eat them up:
Were they not forc'd ^note with those that should be ours,
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.

Mac^b.
I have almost forgot the taste of fears:
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir
As life were in't: I have supt full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.—Wherefore was that cry?

Sey.
The queen, my lord, is dead.

Mac^b.
She should have dy'd hereafter;14Q0531
There would have been a time for such a word.—
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps ^note in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to study death. ^note. Out, out, brief candle!
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 ideot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.— Enter a Messenger.
Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

Mes.
Gracious ^note my lord,
I should report that which I'd say I saw,
But know not how to do't.

Mac^b.
Well, say it, sir.

Mes.
As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The wood began to move.

Mac^b.
Liar, and slave! [striking him.

Mes.
Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.

Mac^b.
If thou speak'st false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou ^note hang alive,
'Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.—
I pull in ^note resolution; and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth: Fear not, 'till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane; and now a wood
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 aweary of the sun,
And wish the estate o'the world were now undone.—
Ring the alarum bell:—Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll dye with harness on our back. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. The same. Plain before the Castle. Enter, with Drum and Colours, Malcolm, old Seyward, Macduff, &c. and Forces, with Boughs.

Mal.
Now, near enough; your leavy screens throw down,
And shew 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 what else remains to do,
According to our order.

o. S.
Fare you well.—
Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.

Mac^d.
Make all our trumpets speak, give them all breath,
Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. The same. Another Part of the Plain. Alarums, as of a Battle join'd. Skirmishings. Enter Macbeth.

Mac^b.
They have ty'd me to a stake; I cannot fly,
But, bear-like, I must fight the course.—What's he,
That was not born of woman? Such a one
Am I to fear, or none. Enter young Seyward.

y. S.
What is thy name?

Mac^b.
Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

y. S.
No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
Than any is in hell.

Mac^b.
My name's Macbeth.

y. S.
The devil himself could not pronounce a title
More hateful to mine ear.

Mac^b.
No, nor more fearful.

y. S.
Thou ly'st, abhorred ^note tyrant; with my sword
I'll prove the lye thou speak'st. [fight; and young Seyward is slain.

Mac^b.
Thou wast born of woman.—
But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. [Exit. Alarums. Enter Macduff.

Mac^d.
That way the noise is: Tyrant, shew 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 sheath again undeeded. There thou should'st be;
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited: Let me find him, fortune! and
More I beg not. [Exit. Alarums. Enter Malcolm, and old Seyward.

o. S.
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.

o. S.
Enter, sir, the castle. [Exeunt. Alarums. Re-enter Macbeth.

Mac^b.
Why should I play the Roman fool, and dye

On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
Do better upon them: Re-enter Macduff.

Mac^d.
Turn, hell-hound, turn.

Mac^b.
Of all men else I have avoided thee:
But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already.

Mac^d.
I have no words,
My voice is in my sword; thou bloodier villain
Than terms can give thee out! [fight.

Mac^b.
Thou losest labour:
As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
I bear a charmed life, which must not yield
To one of woman born.

Mac^d.
Despair thy charm;
And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd,
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ript.

Mac^b.
Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
And be these jugling fiends no more believ'd,
That palter with us in a double sense;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope.—I'll not fight with thee.

Mac^d.
Then yield thee, coward,
And live to be the shew and gaze o'the time.
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole; and under-writ,
Here may you see the tyrant.

Mac^b.
I will 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 ^note 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 ^note first cries, Hold, enough. [Exeunt fighting Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with Drum and Colours, Malcolm, and old Seyward; with Rosse, the other Thanes, Soldiers, &c.

Mal.
I would the friends, we miss, were safe arriv'd.

o. S.
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.

Ros.
Your son, my lord, has pay'd 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 dy'd.

o. S.
Then he is dead?

Ros.
Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end.

o. S.
Had he his hurts before?

Ros.
Ay, on the front.

o. S.
Why then, God's soldier be he!
Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And so his knell is knoll'd.

Mal.
He's worth more sorrow,

And that I'll spend for him.

o. S.
He's worth no more;
They say, he parted well, and pay'd his score:
And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort. Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's Head.

Mac^d.
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 pearl, ^note
That speak my salutation in their minds;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine,—
Hail, king of Scotland!

all.
Hail, king of Scotland! [Flourish.

Mal.
We shall not spend a large expence of time,
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'd. What's more to do,
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. Flourish. [Exeunt.

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