The Tragedy of Macbeth by t00fA3T

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									                                                       Doubtful it stood;                                     MALCOLM
                  The Tragedy of Macbeth               As two spent swimmers, that do cling together          The worthy thane of Ross.
                                                       And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald--        LENNOX
                                                       Worthy to be a rebel, for to that                      What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look
                                                       The multiplying villanies of nature                    That seems to speak things strange.
ACT I                                                  Do swarm upon him--from the western isles              ROSS
                                                       Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied;                God save the king!
                                                       And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,            DUNCAN
SCENE I. A desert place.                               Show'd like a rebel's whore: but all's too weak:       Whence camest thou, worthy thane?
                                                       For brave Macbeth--well he deserves that name--        ROSS
Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches             Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,         From Fife, great king;
First Witch                                            Which smoked with bloody execution,                    Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky
When shall we three meet again                         Like valour's minion carved out his passage            And fan our people cold. Norway himself,
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?                     Till he faced the slave;                               With terrible numbers,
Second Witch                                           Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,     Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
When the hurlyburly's done,                            Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,       The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;
When the battle's lost and won.                        And fix'd his head upon our battlements.               Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,
Third Witch                                            DUNCAN                                                 Confronted him with self-comparisons,
That will be ere the set of sun.                       O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!                    Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm.
First Witch                                            Sergeant                                               Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,
Where the place?                                       As whence the sun 'gins his reflection                 The victory fell on us.
Second Witch                                           Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break,        DUNCAN
Upon the heath.                                        So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come      Great happiness!
Third Witch                                            Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark:       ROSS
There to meet with Macbeth.                            No sooner justice had with valour arm'd                That now
First Witch                                            Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels,   Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition:
I come, Graymalkin!                                    But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage,               Nor would we deign him burial of his men
Second Witch                                           With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men            Till he disbursed at Saint Colme's inch
Paddock calls.                                         Began a fresh assault.                                 Ten thousand dollars to our general use.
Third Witch                                            DUNCAN                                                 DUNCAN
Anon.                                                  Dismay'd not this                                      No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
ALL                                                    Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?                      Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death,
Fair is foul, and foul is fair:                        Sergeant                                               And with his former title greet Macbeth.
Hover through the fog and filthy air.                  Yes;                                                   ROSS
                                                       As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.              I'll see it done.
Exeunt                                                 If I say sooth, I must report they were                DUNCAN
                                                       As cannons overcharged with double cracks, so they     What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.
                                                       Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe:
SCENE II. A camp near Forres.                          Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,          Exeunt
                                                       Or memorise another Golgotha,
Alarum within. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN,       I cannot tell.
LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant   But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.                SCENE III. A heath near Forres.
DUNCAN                                                 DUNCAN
What bloody man is that? He can report,                So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;           Thunder. Enter the three Witches
As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt                They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons.        First Witch
The newest state.                                                                                             Where hast thou been, sister?
MALCOLM                                                Exit Sergeant, attended                                Second Witch
This is the sergeant                                                                                          Killing swine.
Who like a good and hardy soldier fought                                                                      Third Witch
'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend!              Who comes here?                                        Sister, where thou?
Say to the king the knowledge of the broil                                                                    First Witch
As thou didst leave it.                                Enter ROSS                                             A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
Sergeant                                                                                                      And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd:--
                                                                                                              'Give me,' quoth I:
'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries.     And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught          BANQUO
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:   That man may question? You seem to understand me,     The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
But in a sieve I'll thither sail,                    By each at once her chappy finger laying              And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?
And, like a rat without a tail,                      Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,            MACBETH
I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.                       And yet your beards forbid me to interpret            Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted
Second Witch                                         That you are so.                                      As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!
I'll give thee a wind.                               MACBETH                                               BANQUO
First Witch                                          Speak, if you can: what are you?                      Were such things here as we do speak about?
Thou'rt kind.                                        First Witch                                           Or have we eaten on the insane root
Third Witch                                          All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!     That takes the reason prisoner?
And I another.                                       Second Witch                                          MACBETH
First Witch                                          All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!     Your children shall be kings.
I myself have all the other,                         Third Witch                                           BANQUO
And the very ports they blow,                        All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter!      You shall be king.
All the quarters that they know                      BANQUO                                                MACBETH
I' the shipman's card.                               Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear          And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?
I will drain him dry as hay:                         Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth,   BANQUO
Sleep shall neither night nor day                    Are ye fantastical, or that indeed                    To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here?
Hang upon his pent-house lid;                        Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
He shall live a man forbid:                          You greet with present grace and great prediction     Enter ROSS and ANGUS
Weary se'nnights nine times nine                     Of noble having and of royal hope,
Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:                     That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not.
Though his bark cannot be lost,                      If you can look into the seeds of time,               ROSS
Yet it shall be tempest-tost.                        And say which grain will grow and which will not,     The king hath happily received, Macbeth,
Look what I have.                                    Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear            The news of thy success; and when he reads
Second Witch                                         Your favours nor your hate.                           Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
Show me, show me.                                    First Witch                                           His wonders and his praises do contend
First Witch                                          Hail!                                                 Which should be thine or his: silenced with that,
Here I have a pilot's thumb,                         Second Witch                                          In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day,
Wreck'd as homeward he did come.                     Hail!                                                 He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
                                                     Third Witch                                           Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
                                                     Hail!                                                 Strange images of death. As thick as hail
Drum within
                                                     First Witch                                           Came post with post; and every one did bear
                                                     Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.                     Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
Third Witch                                          Second Witch                                          And pour'd them down before him.
A drum, a drum!                                      Not so happy, yet much happier.                       ANGUS
Macbeth doth come.                                   Third Witch                                           We are sent
ALL                                                  Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:            To give thee from our royal master thanks;
The weird sisters, hand in hand,                     So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!                      Only to herald thee into his sight,
Posters of the sea and land,                         First Witch                                           Not pay thee.
Thus do go about, about:                             Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!                         ROSS
Thrice to thine and thrice to mine                   MACBETH                                               And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
And thrice again, to make up nine.                   Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:           He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:
Peace! the charm's wound up.                         By Sinel's death I know I am thane of Glamis;         In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
                                                     But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,         For it is thine.
Enter MACBETH and BANQUO                             A prosperous gentleman; and to be king                BANQUO
                                                     Stands not within the prospect of belief,             What, can the devil speak true?
                                                     No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence            MACBETH
MACBETH                                              You owe this strange intelligence? or why             The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.              Upon this blasted heath you stop our way              In borrow'd robes?
BANQUO                                               With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.    ANGUS
How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these                                                              Who was the thane lives yet;
So wither'd and so wild in their attire,                                                                   But under heavy judgment bears that life
That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,     Witches vanish                                        Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined
With those of Norway, or did line the rebel        [Aside] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown   O worthiest cousin!
With hidden help and vantage, or that with both    me,                                                          The sin of my ingratitude even now
He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;    Without my stir.                                             Was heavy on me: thou art so far before
But treasons capital, confess'd and proved,        BANQUO                                                       That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
Have overthrown him.                               New horrors come upon him,                                   To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved,
MACBETH                                            Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould         That the proportion both of thanks and payment
[Aside] Glamis, and thane of Cawdor!               But with the aid of use.                                     Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
The greatest is behind.                            MACBETH                                                      More is thy due than more than all can pay.
                                                   [Aside] Come what come may,                                  MACBETH
To ROSS and ANGUS                                  Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.             The service and the loyalty I owe,
                                                   BANQUO                                                       In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
                                                   Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.                   Is to receive our duties; and our duties
Thanks for your pains.                             MACBETH                                                      Are to your throne and state children and servants,
                                                   Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought               Which do but what they should, by doing every thing
To BANQUO                                          With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains            Safe toward your love and honour.
                                                   Are register'd where every day I turn                        DUNCAN
                                                   The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.               Welcome hither:
Do you not hope your children shall be kings,      Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time,             I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me     The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak                  To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
Promised no less to them?                          Our free hearts each to other.                               That hast no less deserved, nor must be known
BANQUO                                             BANQUO                                                       No less to have done so, let me enfold thee
That trusted home                                  Very gladly.                                                 And hold thee to my heart.
Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,             MACBETH                                                      BANQUO
Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:     Till then, enough. Come, friends.                            There if I grow,
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,                                                                          The harvest is your own.
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,                                                                     DUNCAN
Win us with honest trifles, to betray's            Exeunt
                                                                                                                My plenteous joys,
In deepest consequence.                                                                                         Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
Cousins, a word, I pray you.                       SCENE IV. Forres. The palace.                                In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes,
MACBETH                                                                                                         And you whose places are the nearest, know
[Aside] Two truths are told,                                                                                    We will establish our estate upon
                                                   Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN,
As happy prologues to the swelling act                                                                          Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter
Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen.    LENNOX, and Attendants
                                                   DUNCAN                                                       The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must
                                                   Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not                         Not unaccompanied invest him only,
Aside                                              Those in commission yet return'd?                            But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
                                                   MALCOLM                                                      On all deservers. From hence to Inverness,
                                                   My liege,                                                    And bind us further to you.
Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,                                                                          MACBETH
Why hath it given me earnest of success,           They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
                                                   With one that saw him die: who did report                    The rest is labour, which is not used for you:
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:                                                                    I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion         That very frankly he confess'd his treasons,
                                                   Implored your highness' pardon and set forth                 The hearing of my wife with your approach;
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair                                                                           So humbly take my leave.
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,         A deep repentance: nothing in his life
                                                   Became him like the leaving it; he died                      DUNCAN
Against the use of nature? Present fears                                                                        My worthy Cawdor!
Are less than horrible imaginings:                 As one that had been studied in his death
                                                   To throw away the dearest thing he owed,                     MACBETH
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,                                                                [Aside] The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step
Shakes so my single state of man that function     As 'twere a careless trifle.
                                                   DUNCAN                                                       On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap,
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is                                                                         For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires;
But what is not.                                   There's no art
                                                   To find the mind's construction in the face:                 Let not light see my black and deep desires:
BANQUO                                                                                                          The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be,
Look, how our partner's rapt.                      He was a gentleman on whom I built
                                                   An absolute trust.                                           Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
MACBETH

                                                   Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, ROSS, and ANGUS                       Exit
DUNCAN                                                       Thou'rt mad to say it:                                Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant,                  Is not thy master with him? who, were't so,           But be the serpent under't. He that's coming
And in his commendations I am fed;                           Would have inform'd for preparation.                  Must be provided for: and you shall put
It is a banquet to me. Let's after him,                      Messenger                                             This night's great business into my dispatch;
Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:                 So please you, it is true: our thane is coming:       Which shall to all our nights and days to come
It is a peerless kinsman.                                    One of my fellows had the speed of him,               Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
                                                             Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more        MACBETH
Flourish. Exeunt                                             Than would make up his message.                       We will speak further.
                                                             LADY MACBETH                                          LADY MACBETH
                                                             Give him tending;                                     Only look up clear;
SCENE V. Inverness. Macbeth's castle.                        He brings great news.                                 To alter favour ever is to fear:
                                                                                                                   Leave all the rest to me.
Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a letter                         Exit Messenger
LADY MACBETH                                                                                                       Exeunt
'They met me in the day of success: and I have
                                                             The raven himself is hoarse
learned by the perfectest report, they have more in
them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire          That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan              SCENE VI. Before Macbeth's castle.
to question them further, they made themselves air,          Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in             That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,          Hautboys and torches. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM,
the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who           And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full        DONALBAIN, BANQUO, LENNOX, MACDUFF, ROSS,
all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title,             Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;               ANGUS, and Attendants
before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred         Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
                                                                                                                   DUNCAN
                                                             That no compunctious visitings of nature
me to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king that                                                                 This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver               Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between         Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
                                                             The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou                                                                   Unto our gentle senses.
mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being             And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
                                                                                                                   BANQUO
                                                             Wherever in your sightless substances
ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it                                                                This guest of summer,
to thy heart, and farewell.'                                 You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,     The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,
Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be                    And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,           By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath
What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature;            That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,        Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness                 Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,      Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great;             To cry 'Hold, hold!'                                  Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:
Art not without ambition, but without                                                                              Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,
The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly,      Enter MACBETH                                         The air is delicate.
That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'ldst have, great Glamis,   Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor!                          Enter LADY MACBETH
That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it;        Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!
And that which rather thou dost fear to do
                                                             Thy letters have transported me beyond
Than wishest should be undone.' Hie thee hither,                                                                   DUNCAN
                                                             This ignorant present, and I feel now                 See, see, our honour'd hostess!
That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;
                                                             The future in the instant.                            The love that follows us sometime is our trouble,
And chastise with the valour of my tongue
                                                             MACBETH                                               Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you
All that impedes thee from the golden round,
                                                             My dearest love,                                      How you shall bid God 'ild us for your pains,
Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem                    Duncan comes here to-night.
To have thee crown'd withal.                                                                                       And thank us for your trouble.
                                                             LADY MACBETH
                                                                                                                   LADY MACBETH
                                                             And when goes hence?                                  All our service
Enter a Messenger                                            MACBETH                                               In every point twice done and then done double
                                                             To-morrow, as he purposes.                            Were poor and single business to contend
What is your tidings?                                        LADY MACBETH                                          Against those honours deep and broad wherewith
                                                             O, never                                              Your majesty loads our house: for those of old,
Messenger
The king comes here to-night.                                Shall sun that morrow see!                            And the late dignities heap'd up to them,
                                                             Your face, my thane, is as a book where men           We rest your hermits.
LADY MACBETH
                                                             May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
                                                                                                                   DUNCAN
                                                             Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Where's the thane of Cawdor?                                    Enter LADY MACBETH                                      Will I with wine and wassail so convince
We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose                                                                          That memory, the warder of the brain,
To be his purveyor: but he rides well;                                                                                  Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
                                                                How now! what news?
And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him                                                                    A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep
                                                                LADY MACBETH
To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess,                                                                          Their drenched natures lie as in a death,
                                                                He has almost supp'd: why have you left the chamber?
We are your guest to-night.                                                                                             What cannot you and I perform upon
                                                                MACBETH
LADY MACBETH                                                                                                            The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
                                                                Hath he ask'd for me?
Your servants ever                                                                                                      His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt
                                                                LADY MACBETH
Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt,           Know you not he has?                                    Of our great quell?
To make their audit at your highness' pleasure,                                                                         MACBETH
                                                                MACBETH
Still to return your own.                                       We will proceed no further in this business:            Bring forth men-children only;
DUNCAN                                                          He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought          For thy undaunted mettle should compose
Give me your hand;                                              Golden opinions from all sorts of people,               Nothing but males. Will it not be received,
Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly,                                                                            When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
                                                                Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
And shall continue our graces towards him.                      Not cast aside so soon.                                 Of his own chamber and used their very daggers,
By your leave, hostess.                                                                                                 That they have done't?
                                                                LADY MACBETH
                                                                Was the hope drunk                                      LADY MACBETH
Exeunt                                                          Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since?      Who dares receive it other,
                                                                And wakes it now, to look so green and pale             As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
                                                                At what it did so freely? From this time                Upon his death?
SCENE VII. Macbeth's castle.                                                                                            MACBETH
                                                                Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard
                                                                To be the same in thine own act and valour              I am settled, and bend up
Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers Servants with   As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that           Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
dishes and service, and pass over the stage. Then enter         Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,              Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
MACBETH                                                                                                                 False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
                                                                And live a coward in thine own esteem,
MACBETH                                                         Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,'
If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well                Like the poor cat i' the adage?                         Exeunt
It were done quickly: if the assassination                      MACBETH
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch                     Prithee, peace:
With his surcease success; that but this blow                                                                           ACT II
                                                                I dare do all that may become a man;
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,                       Who dares do more is none.
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,                     LADY MACBETH                                            SCENE I. Court of Macbeth's castle.
We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases                 What beast was't, then,
We still have judgment here; that we but teach                  That made you break this enterprise to me?              Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE bearing a torch before him
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return                When you durst do it, then you were a man;              BANQUO
To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice                And, to be more than what you were, you would           How goes the night, boy?
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice                Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place             FLEANCE
To our own lips. He's here in double trust;                     Did then adhere, and yet you would make both:           The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,                     They have made themselves, and that their fitness now   BANQUO
Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,                Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know            And she goes down at twelve.
Who should against his murderer shut the door,                  How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me:         FLEANCE
Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan                 I would, while it was smiling in my face,               I take't, 'tis later, sir.
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been                     Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,          BANQUO
So clear in his great office, that his virtues                  And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you        Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven;
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against                Have done to this.                                      Their candles are all out. Take thee that too.
The deep damnation of his taking-off;                           MACBETH                                                 A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,                           If we should fail?                                      And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed                LADY MACBETH                                            Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
Upon the sightless couriers of the air,                         We fail!                                                Gives way to in repose!
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,                        But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur                 And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep--
To prick the sides of my intent, but only                       Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey         Enter MACBETH, and a Servant with a torch
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself                       Soundly invite him--his two chamberlains
And falls on the other.
Give me my sword.                                      A dagger of the mind, a false creation,                Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready;
Who's there?                                           Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?              He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled
MACBETH                                                I see thee yet, in form as palpable                    My father as he slept, I had done't.
A friend.                                              As this which now I draw.
BANQUO                                                 Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;          Enter MACBETH
What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's a-bed:          And such an instrument I was to use.
He hath been in unusual pleasure, and                  Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Sent forth great largess to your offices.              Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,          My husband!
This diamond he greets your wife withal,               And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,           MACBETH
By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up          Which was not so before. There's no such thing:        I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?
In measureless content.                                It is the bloody business which informs                LADY MACBETH
MACBETH                                                Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one halfworld          I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.
Being unprepared,                                      Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse             Did not you speak?
Our will became the servant to defect;                 The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates             MACBETH
Which else should free have wrought.                   Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,          When?
BANQUO                                                 Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,                    LADY MACBETH
All's well.                                            Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace.   Now.
I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:        With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design   MACBETH
To you they have show'd some truth.                    Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,      As I descended?
MACBETH                                                Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear       LADY MACBETH
I think not of them:                                   Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,                Ay.
Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,             And take the present horror from the time,             MACBETH
We would spend it in some words upon that business,    Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives:    Hark!
If you would grant the time.                           Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.      Who lies i' the second chamber?
BANQUO                                                                                                        LADY MACBETH
At your kind'st leisure.                                                                                      Donalbain.
                                                       A bell rings
MACBETH                                                                                                       MACBETH
If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis,                                                                 This is a sorry sight.
It shall make honour for you.                          I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
BANQUO                                                 Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell                 Looking on his hands
So I lose none                                         That summons thee to heaven or to hell.
In seeking to augment it, but still keep
My bosom franchised and allegiance clear,                                                                     LADY MACBETH
                                                       Exit                                                   A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
I shall be counsell'd.
MACBETH                                                                                                       MACBETH
Good repose the while!                                 SCENE II. The same.                                    There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried
BANQUO                                                                                                        'Murder!'
Thanks, sir: the like to you!                          Enter LADY MACBETH                                     That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them:
                                                                                                              But they did say their prayers, and address'd them
                                                       LADY MACBETH
                                                       That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold;     Again to sleep.
Exeunt BANQUO and FLEANCE                                                                                     LADY MACBETH
                                                       What hath quench'd them hath given me fire.
                                                       Hark! Peace!                                           There are two lodged together.
MACBETH                                                It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,       MACBETH
Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,           Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it:   One cried 'God bless us!' and 'Amen' the other;
She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.                                                                    As they had seen me with these hangman's hands.
                                                       The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms
                                                       Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd       Listening their fear, I could not say 'Amen,'
                                                                                                              When they did say 'God bless us!'
Exit Servant                                           their possets,
                                                       That death and nature do contend about them,           LADY MACBETH
                                                       Whether they live or die.                              Consider it not so deeply.
Is this a dagger which I see before me,                                                                       MACBETH
                                                       MACBETH
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.   [Within] Who's there? what, ho!                        But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'?
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.                                                                    I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen'
                                                       LADY MACBETH
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible                   Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,                   Stuck in my throat.
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but                                                                       LADY MACBETH
                                                       And 'tis not done. The attempt and not the deed
These deeds must not be thought                      Knocking within                                        Knocking within
After these ways; so, it will make us mad.
MACBETH                                              I hear a knocking                                      Knock,
Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more!        At the south entry: retire we to our chamber;          knock, knock! Who's there? Faith, here's an
Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep,
                                                     A little water clears us of this deed:                 English tailor come hither, for stealing out of
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care,     How easy is it, then! Your constancy                   a French hose: come in, tailor; here you may
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
                                                     Hath left you unattended.                              roast your goose.
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast,--
LADY MACBETH                                         Knocking within                                        Knocking within
What do you mean?
MACBETH                                              Hark! more knocking.                                   Knock,
Still it cried 'Sleep no more!' to all the house:    Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us,          knock; never at quiet! What are you? But
'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor    And show us to be watchers. Be not lost                this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter
Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.'   So poorly in your thoughts.                            it no further: I had thought to have let in
LADY MACBETH                                         MACBETH                                                some of all professions that go the primrose
Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,       To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.          way to the everlasting bonfire.
You do unbend your noble strength, to think
So brainsickly of things. Go get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.         Knocking within                                        Knocking within
Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
They must lie there: go carry them; and smear        Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!   Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.
The sleepy grooms with blood.
MACBETH
I'll go no more:                                     Exeunt                                                 Opens the gate
I am afraid to think what I have done;
Look on't again I dare not.                          SCENE III. The same.                                   Enter MACDUFF and LENNOX
LADY MACBETH
Infirm of purpose!
                                                     Knocking within. Enter a Porter                        MACDUFF
Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead
                                                     Porter                                                 Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood
                                                     Here's a knocking indeed! If a                         That you do lie so late?
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
                                                     man were porter of hell-gate, he should have           Porter
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal;
                                                     old turning the key.                                   'Faith sir, we were carousing till the
For it must seem their guilt.
                                                                                                            second cock: and drink, sir, is a great
                                                     Knocking within                                        provoker of three things.
Exit. Knocking within                                                                                       MACDUFF
                                                                                                            What three things does drink especially provoke?
                                                     Knock,                                                 Porter
MACBETH
                                                     knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of              Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and
Whence is that knocking?
                                                     Beelzebub? Here's a farmer, that hanged                urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes;
How is't with me, when every noise appals me?
                                                     himself on the expectation of plenty: come in          it provokes the desire, but it takes
What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes.
                                                     time; have napkins enow about you; here                away the performance: therefore, much drink
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
                                                     you'll sweat for't.                                    may be said to be an equivocator with lechery:
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas in incarnadine,                                                                      it makes him, and it mars him; it sets
Making the green one red.                            Knocking within                                        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
Re-enter LADY MACBETH                                Knock,                                                 in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.
                                                     knock! Who's there, in the other devil's               MACDUFF
                                                     name? Faith, here's an equivocator, that could         I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.
LADY MACBETH
                                                     swear in both the scales against either scale;         Porter
My hands are of your colour; but I shame
                                                     who committed treason enough for God's sake,           That it did, sir, i' the very throat on
To wear a heart so white.
                                                     yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come            me: but I requited him for his lie; and, I
                                                     in, equivocator.
think, being too strong for him, though he took          Re-enter MACDUFF                                      LADY MACBETH
up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast                                                                Woe, alas!
him.                                                                                                           What, in our house?
                                                         MACDUFF
MACDUFF                                                  O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart            BANQUO
Is thy master stirring?                                                                                        Too cruel any where.
                                                         Cannot conceive nor name thee!
                                                                                                               Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself,
                                                         MACBETH LENNOX
Enter MACBETH                                                                                                  And say it is not so.
                                                         What's the matter.
                                                         MACDUFF
                                                         Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!              Re-enter MACBETH and LENNOX, with ROSS
Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes.
                                                         Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
LENNOX
                                                         The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
Good morrow, noble sir.                                                                                        MACBETH
                                                         The life o' the building!                             Had I but died an hour before this chance,
MACBETH
Good morrow, both.                                       MACBETH                                               I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant,
                                                         What is 't you say? the life?                         There 's nothing serious in mortality:
MACDUFF
Is the king stirring, worthy thane?                      LENNOX                                                All is but toys: renown and grace is dead;
                                                         Mean you his majesty?                                 The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
MACBETH
Not yet.                                                 MACDUFF                                               Is left this vault to brag of.
                                                         Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
MACDUFF
He did command me to call timely on him:                 With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak;
                                                         See, and then speak yourselves.                       Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN
I have almost slipp'd the hour.
MACBETH
I'll bring you to him.                                   Exeunt MACBETH and LENNOX                             DONALBAIN
MACDUFF                                                                                                        What is amiss?
I know this is a joyful trouble to you;                                                                        MACBETH
                                                         Awake, awake!                                         You are, and do not know't:
But yet 'tis one.                                        Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason!
MACBETH                                                                                                        The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
                                                         Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!                 Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.
The labour we delight in physics pain.                   Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
This is the door.                                                                                              MACDUFF
                                                         And look on death itself! up, up, and see
MACDUFF                                                                                                        Your royal father 's murder'd.
                                                         The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!
I'll make so bold to call,                                                                                     MALCOLM
                                                         As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,
For 'tis my limited service.                                                                                   O, by whom?
                                                         To countenance this horror! Ring the bell.
                                                                                                               LENNOX
                                                                                                               Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done 't:
Exit                                                     Bell rings                                            Their hands and faces were an badged with blood;
                                                                                                               So were their daggers, which unwiped we found
LENNOX                                                   Enter LADY MACBETH                                    Upon their pillows:
Goes the king hence to-day?                                                                                    They stared, and were distracted; no man's life
MACBETH                                                                                                        Was to be trusted with them.
He does: he did appoint so.                              LADY MACBETH                                          MACBETH
LENNOX                                                   What's the business,                                  O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
The night has been unruly: where we lay,                 That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley           That I did kill them.
Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say,          The sleepers of the house? speak, speak!              MACDUFF
Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death,   MACDUFF                                               Wherefore did you so?
And prophesying with accents terrible                    O gentle lady,                                        MACBETH
Of dire combustion and confused events                   'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:            Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,
New hatch'd to the woeful time: the obscure bird         The repetition, in a woman's ear,                     Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:
Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth        Would murder as it fell.                              The expedition my violent love
Was feverous and did shake.                                                                                    Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan,
MACBETH                                                  Enter BANQUO                                          His silver skin laced with his golden blood;
'Twas a rough night.                                                                                           And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature
LENNOX                                                                                                         For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
My young remembrance cannot parallel                     O Banquo, Banquo,                                     Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
A fellow to it.                                          Our royal master 's murder'd!                         Unmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart           This murderous shaft that's shot                          Alas, the day!
Courage to make 's love kno wn?                       Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way                  What good could they pretend?
LADY MACBETH                                          Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse;                 MACDUFF
Help me hence, ho!                                    And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,                 They were suborn'd:
MACDUFF                                               But shift away: there's warrant in that theft             Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's two sons,
Look to the lady.                                     Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left.          Are stol'n away and fled; which puts upon them
MALCOLM                                                                                                         Suspicion of the deed.
[Aside to DONALBAIN] Why do we hold our tongues,      Exeunt                                                    ROSS
That most may claim this argument for ours?                                                                     'Gainst nature still!
DONALBAIN                                                                                                       Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up
[Aside to MALCOLM] What should be spoken here,        SCENE IV. Outside Macbeth's castle.                       Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like
where our fate,                                                                                                 The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.
Hid in an auger-hole, may rush, and seize us?         Enter ROSS and an old Man                                 MACDUFF
Let 's away;                                          Old Man                                                   He is already named, and gone to Scone
Our tears are not yet brew'd.                         Threescore and ten I can remember well:                   To be invested.
MALCOLM                                               Within the volume of which time I have seen               ROSS
[Aside to DONALBAIN] Nor our strong sorrow            Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night    Where is Duncan's body?
Upon the foot of motion.                              Hath trifled former knowings.                             MACDUFF
BANQUO                                                ROSS                                                      Carried to Colmekill,
Look to the lady:                                     Ah, good father,                                          The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
                                                      Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act,      And guardian of their bones.
LADY MACBETH is carried out                           Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day,        ROSS
                                                      And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:         Will you to Scone?
                                                      Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame,            MACDUFF
And when we have our naked frailties hid,                                                                       No, cousin, I'll to Fife.
                                                      That darkness does the face of earth entomb,
That suffer in exposure, let us meet,                 When living light should kiss it?                         ROSS
And question this most bloody piece of work,                                                                    Well, I will thither.
                                                      Old Man
To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us:      'Tis unnatural,                                           MACDUFF
In the great hand of God I stand; and thence          Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,          Well, may you see things well done there: adieu!
Against the undivulged pretence I fight               A falcon, towering in her pride of place,                 Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!
Of treasonous malice.                                 Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.                ROSS
MACDUFF                                               ROSS                                                      Farewell, father.
And so do I.                                          And Duncan's horses--a thing most strange and certain--   Old Man
ALL                                                   Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,           God's benison go with you; and with those
So all.                                               Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,     That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!
MACBETH                                               Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make
Let's briefly put on manly readiness,                 War with mankind.                                         Exeunt
And meet i' the hall together.
                                                      Old Man
ALL                                                   'Tis said they eat each other.
Well contented.                                                                                                 ACT III
                                                      ROSS
                                                      They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes
Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.                 That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Macduff.          SCENE I. Forres. The palace.

MALCOLM                                               Enter MACDUFF                                             Enter BANQUO
What will you do? Let's not consort with them:                                                                  BANQUO
To show an unfelt sorrow is an office                                                                           Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
                                                      How goes the world, sir, now?
Which the false man does easy. I'll to England.                                                                 As the weird women promised, and, I fear,
                                                      MACDUFF
DONALBAIN                                             Why, see you not?                                         Thou play'dst most foully for't: yet it was said
To Ireland, I; our separated fortune                                                                            It should not stand in thy posterity,
                                                      ROSS
Shall keep us both the safer: where we are,           Is't known who did this more than bloody deed?            But that myself should be the root and father
There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood,                                                             Of many kings. If there come truth from them--
                                                      MACDUFF
The nearer bloody.                                    Those that Macbeth hath slain.                            As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine--
MALCOLM                                                                                                         Why, by the verities on thee made good,
                                                      ROSS
May they not be my oracles as well,                     Let every man be master of his time                      It was, so please your highness.
And set me up in hope? But hush! no more.               Till seven at night: to make society                     MACBETH
                                                        The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself                Well then, now
Sennet sounded. Enter MACBETH, as king, LADY MACBETH,   Till supper-time alone: while then, God be with you!     Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know
                                                                                                                 That it was he in the times past which held you
as queen, LENNOX, ROSS, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants
                                                        Exeunt all but MACBETH, and an attendant                 So under fortune, which you thought had been
                                                                                                                 Our innocent self: this I made good to you
MACBETH                                                                                                          In our last conference, pass'd in probation with you,
Here's our chief guest.                                 Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men                How you were borne in hand, how cross'd,
LADY MACBETH                                            Our pleasure?                                            the instruments,
If he had been forgotten,                               ATTENDANT                                                Who wrought with them, and all things else that might
It had been as a gap in our great feast,                They are, my lord, without the palace gate.              To half a soul and to a notion crazed
And all-thing unbecoming.                               MACBETH                                                  Say 'Thus did Banquo.'
MACBETH                                                 Bring them before us.                                    First Murderer
To-night we hold a solemn supper sir,                                                                            You made it known to us.
And I'll request your presence.                         Exit Attendant                                           MACBETH
BANQUO                                                                                                           I did so, and went further, which is now
Let your highness                                                                                                Our point of second meeting. Do you find
Command upon me; to the which my duties                 To be thus is nothing;                                   Your patience so predominant in your nature
Are with a most indissoluble tie                        But to be safely thus.--Our fears in Banquo              That you can let this go? Are you so gospell'd
For ever knit.                                          Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature                 To pray for this good man and for his issue,
MACBETH                                                 Reigns that which would be fear'd: 'tis much he dares;   Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave
Ride you this afternoon?                                And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,               And beggar'd yours for ever?
BANQUO                                                  He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour              First Murderer
Ay, my good lord.                                       To act in safety. There is none but he                   We are men, my liege.
MACBETH                                                 Whose being I do fear: and, under him,                   MACBETH
We should have else desired your good advice,           My Genius is rebuked; as, it is said,                    Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men;
Which still hath been both grave and prosperous,        Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters         As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,
In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow.        When first they put the name of king upon me,            Shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves, are clept
Is't far you ride?                                      And bade them speak to him: then prophet-like            All by the name of dogs: the valued file
BANQUO                                                  They hail'd him father to a line of kings:               Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
As far, my lord, as will fill up the time               Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,              The housekeeper, the hunter, every one
'Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better,     And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,                    According to the gift which bounteous nature
I must become a borrower of the night                   Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand,             Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive
For a dark hour or twain.                               No son of mine succeeding. If 't be so,                  Particular addition. from the bill
MACBETH                                                 For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind;                 That writes them all alike: and so of men.
Fail not our feast.                                     For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd;            Now, if you have a station in the file,
BANQUO                                                  Put rancours in the vessel of my peace                   Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say 't;
My lord, I will not.                                    Only for them; and mine eternal jewel                    And I will put that business in your bosoms,
MACBETH                                                 Given to the common enemy of man,                        Whose execution takes your enemy off,
We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd                To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings!            Grapples you to the heart and love of us,
In England and in Ireland, not confessing               Rather than so, come fate into the list.                 Who wear our health but sickly in his life,
Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers            And champion me to the utterance! Who's there!           Which in his death were perfect.
With strange invention: but of that to-morrow,                                                                   Second Murderer
When therewithal we shall have cause of state           Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers                   I am one, my liege,
Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu,                                                                     Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you?                                                                 Have so incensed that I am reckless what
BANQUO                                                  Now go to the door, and stay there till we call.         I do to spite the world.
Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon 's.                                                                    First Murderer
MACBETH                                                 Exit Attendant                                           And I another
I wish your horses swift and sure of foot;                                                                       So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,
And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell.                                                                That I would set my lie on any chance,
                                                        Was it not yesterday we spoke together?
                                                                                                                 To mend it, or be rid on't.
                                                        First Murderer
Exit BANQUO                                                                                                      MACBETH
Both of you                                                Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.                MACBETH
Know Banquo was your enemy.                                LADY MACBETH                                          O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
Both Murderers                                             Say to the king, I would attend his leisure           Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.
True, my lord.                                             For a few words.                                      LADY MACBETH
MACBETH                                                    Servant                                               But in them nature's copy's not eterne.
So is he mine; and in such bloody distance,                Madam, I will.                                        MACBETH
That every minute of his being thrusts                                                                           There's comfort yet; they are assailable;
Against my near'st of life: and though I could             Exit                                                  Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown
With barefaced power sweep him from my sight                                                                     His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons
And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not,                                                                       The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums
For certain friends that are both his and mine,            LADY MACBETH                                          Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall              Nought's had, all's spent,                            A deed of dreadful note.
Who I myself struck down; and thence it is,                Where our desire is got without content:              LADY MACBETH
That I to your assistance do make love,                    'Tis safer to be that which we destroy                What's to be done?
Masking the business from the common eye                   Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.            MACBETH
For sundry weighty reasons.                                                                                      Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
Second Murderer                                            Enter MACBETH                                         Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night,
We shall, my lord,                                                                                               Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;
Perform what you command us.                                                                                     And with thy bloody and invisible hand
First Murderer                                             How now, my lord! why do you keep alone,              Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
Though our lives--                                         Of sorriest fancies your companions making,           Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the crow
MACBETH                                                    Using those thoughts which should indeed have died    Makes wing to the rooky wood:
Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most   With them they think on? Things without all remedy    Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;
I will advise you where to plant yourselves;               Should be without regard: what's done is done.        While night's black agents to their preys do rouse.
Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time,             MACBETH                                               Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still;
The moment on't; for't must be done to-night,              We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it:            Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
And something from the palace; always thought              She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice   So, prithee, go with me.
That I require a clearness: and with him--                 Remains in danger of her former tooth.
To leave no rubs nor botches in the work--                 But let the frame of things disjoint, both the
                                                           worlds suffer,                                        Exeunt
Fleance his son, that keeps him company,
Whose absence is no less material to me                    Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep
Than is his father's, must embrace the fate                In the affliction of these terrible dreams            SCENE III. A park near the palace.
Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart:               That shake us nightly: better be with the dead,
I'll come to you anon.                                     Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
                                                           Than on the torture of the mind to lie                Enter three Murderers
Both Murderers                                                                                                   First Murderer
We are resolved, my lord.                                  In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
                                                           After life's fitful fever he sleeps well;             But who did bid thee join with us?
MACBETH                                                                                                          Third Murderer
I'll call upon you straight: abide within.                 Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
                                                                                                                 Macbeth.
                                                           Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
                                                           Can touch him further.                                Second Murderer
Exeunt Murderers                                                                                                 He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers
                                                           LADY MACBETH
                                                           Come on;                                              Our offices and what we have to do
                                                                                                                 To the direction just.
It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight,                Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;
                                                           Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night.      First Murderer
If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.                                                                    Then stand with us.
                                                           MACBETH
                                                           So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you:             The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:
Exit                                                                                                             Now spurs the lated traveller apace
                                                           Let your remembrance apply to Banquo;
                                                           Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue:       To gain the timely inn; and near approaches
                                                           Unsafe the while, that we                             The subject of our watch.
SCENE II. The palace.
                                                           Must lave our honours in these flattering streams,    Third Murderer
                                                           And make our faces vizards to our hearts,             Hark! I hear horses.
Enter LADY MACBETH and a Servant                                                                                 BANQUO
                                                           Disguising what they are.
LADY MACBETH                                                                                                     [Within] Give us a light there, ho!
Is Banquo gone from court?                                 LADY MACBETH
                                                           You must leave this.                                  Second Murderer
Servant
Then 'tis he: the rest                             You know your own degrees; sit down: at first         No teeth for the present. Get thee gone: to-morrow
That are within the note of expectation            And last the hearty welcome.                          We'll hear, ourselves, again.
Already are i' the court.                          Lords
First Murderer                                     Thanks to your majesty.                               Exit Murderer
His horses go about.                               MACBETH
Third Murderer                                     Ourself will mingle with society,
Almost a mile: but he does usually,                And play the humble host.                             LADY MACBETH
So all men do, from hence to the palace gate       Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time         My royal lord,
Make it their walk.                                We will require her welcome.                          You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold
Second Murderer                                    LADY MACBETH                                          That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a-making,
A light, a light!                                  Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;         'Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home;
                                                   For my heart speaks they are welcome.                 From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony;
                                                                                                         Meeting were bare without it.
Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE with a torch
                                                                                                         MACBETH
                                                   First Murderer appears at the door
                                                                                                         Sweet remembrancer!
Third Murderer                                                                                           Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
'Tis he.                                           MACBETH                                               And health on both!
First Murderer                                     See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.   LENNOX
Stand to't.                                        Both sides are even: here I'll sit i' the midst:      May't please your highness sit.
BANQUO                                             Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure
It will be rain to-night.                          The table round.                                      The GHOST OF BANQUO enters, and sits in MACBETH's
First Murderer                                                                                           place
Let it come down.                                  Approaching the door
                                                                                                         MACBETH
They set upon BANQUO
                                                   There's blood on thy face.                            Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,
                                                   First Murderer                                        Were the graced person of our Banquo present;
BANQUO                                             'Tis Banquo's then.                                   Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!    MACBETH                                               Than pity for mischance!
Thou mayst revenge. O slave!                       'Tis better thee without than he within.              ROSS
                                                   Is he dispatch'd?                                     His absence, sir,
Dies. FLEANCE escapes                              First Murderer                                        Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness
                                                   My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.       To grace us with your royal company.
                                                   MACBETH                                               MACBETH
Third Murderer                                     Thou art the best o' the cut-throats: yet he's good   The table's full.
Who did strike out the light?                      That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,      LENNOX
First Murderer                                     Thou art the nonpareil.                               Here is a place reserved, sir.
Wast not the way?                                  First Murderer                                        MACBETH
Third Murderer                                     Most royal sir,                                       Where?
There's but one down; the son is fled.             Fleance is 'scaped.                                   LENNOX
Second Murderer                                    MACBETH                                               Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your highness?
We have lost                                       Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect,     MACBETH
Best half of our affair.                           Whole as the marble, founded as the rock,             Which of you have done this?
First Murderer                                     As broad and general as the casing air:               Lords
Well, let's away, and say how much is done.        But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in     What, my good lord?
                                                   To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe?         MACBETH
Exeunt                                             First Murderer                                        Thou canst not say I did it: never shake
                                                   Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,           Thy gory locks at me.
                                                   With twenty trenched gashes on his head;              ROSS
SCENE IV. The same. Hall in the palace.            The least a death to nature.                          Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well.
                                                   MACBETH                                               LADY MACBETH
A banquet prepared. Enter MACBETH, LADY MACBETH,   Thanks for that:                                      Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus,
ROSS, LENNOX, Lords, and Attendants                There the grown serpent lies; the worm that's fled    And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat;
MACBETH                                            Hath nature that in time will venom breed,            The fit is momentary; upon a thought
He will again be well: if much you note him,           Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,         LADY MACBETH
You shall offend him and extend his passion:           And all to all.                                         A kind good night to all!
Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?               Lords
MACBETH                                                Our duties, and the pledge.                             Exeunt all but MACBETH and LADY MACBETH
Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
Which might appal the devil.                           Re-enter GHOST OF BANQUO
LADY MACBETH                                                                                                   MACBETH
O proper stuff!                                                                                                It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood:
This is the very painting of your fear:                MACBETH                                                 Stones have been known to move and trees to speak;
This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,          Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee!     Augurs and understood relations have
Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts,          Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;            By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth
Impostors to true fear, would well become              Thou hast no speculation in those eyes                  The secret'st man of blood. What is the night?
A woman's story at a winter's fire,                    Which thou dost glare with!                             LADY MACBETH
Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!               LADY MACBETH                                            Almost at odds with morning, which is which.
Why do you make such faces? When all's done,           Think of this, good peers,                              MACBETH
You look but on a stool.                               But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;                How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person
MACBETH                                                Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.                At our great bidding?
Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo!                  MACBETH                                                 LADY MACBETH
how say you?                                           What man dare, I dare:                                  Did you send to him, sir?
Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.        Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,             MACBETH
If charnel-houses and our graves must send             The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger;              I hear it by the way; but I will send:
Those that we bury back, our monuments                 Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves             There's not a one of them but in his house
Shall be the maws of kites.                            Shall never tremble: or be alive again,                 I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow,
                                                       And dare me to the desert with thy sword;               And betimes I will, to the weird sisters:
                                                       If trembling I inhabit then, protest me                 More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know,
GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes
                                                       The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!             By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good,
                                                       Unreal mockery, hence!                                  All causes shall give way: I am in blood
LADY MACBETH                                                                                                   Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,
What, quite unmann'd in folly?                         GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes                                Returning were as tedious as go o'er:
MACBETH                                                                                                        Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
If I stand here, I saw him.                                                                                    Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.
LADY MACBETH                                           Why, so: being gone,                                    LADY MACBETH
Fie, for shame!                                        I am a man again. Pray you, sit still.                  You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
MACBETH                                                LADY MACBETH                                            MACBETH
Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,       You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,   Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse
Ere human statute purged the gentle weal;              With most admired disorder.                             Is the initiate fear that wants hard use:
Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd         MACBETH                                                 We are yet but young in deed.
Too terrible for the ear: the times have been,         Can such things be,
That, when the brains were out, the man would die,     And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
                                                                                                               Exeunt
And there an end; but now they rise again,             Without our special wonder? You make me strange
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,            Even to the disposition that I owe,
And push us from our stools: this is more strange      When now I think you can behold such sights,            SCENE V. A Heath.
Than such a murder is.                                 And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,
LADY MACBETH                                           When mine is blanched with fear.                        Thunder. Enter the three Witches meeting HECATE
My worthy lord,                                        ROSS
                                                                                                               First Witch
Your noble friends do lack you.                        What sights, my lord?                                   Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly.
MACBETH                                                LADY MACBETH
                                                                                                               HECATE
I do forget.                                           I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse;        Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends,             Question enrages him. At once, good night:              Saucy and overbold? How did you dare
I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing           Stand not upon the order of your going,                 To trade and traffic with Macbeth
To those that know me. Come, love and health to all;   But go at once.                                         In riddles and affairs of death;
Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine; fill full.      LENNOX                                                  And I, the mistress of your charms,
I drink to the general joy o' the whole table,         Good night; and better health                           The close contriver of all harms,
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;           Attend his majesty!
                                                                                                               Was never call'd to bear my part,
Or show the glory of our art?                          It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain                    ACT IV
And, which is worse, all you have done                 To kill their gracious father? damned fact!
Hath been but for a wayward son,                       How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight
                                                                                                               SCENE I. A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.
Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do,              In pious rage the two delinquents tear,
Loves for his own ends, not for you.                   That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep?
But make amends now: get you gone,                     Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too;            Thunder. Enter the three Witches
And at the pit of Acheron                              For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive                First Witch
Meet me i' the morning: thither he                     To hear the men deny't. So that, I say,                 Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
Will come to know his destiny:                         He has borne all things well: and I do think            Second Witch
Your vessels and your spells provide,                  That had he Duncan's sons under his key--               Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.
Your charms and every thing beside.                    As, an't please heaven, he shall not--they              Third Witch
I am for the air; this night I'll spend                should find                                             Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time.
Unto a dismal and a fatal end:                         What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance.        First Witch
Great business must be wrought ere noon:               But, peace! for from broad words and 'cause he fail'd   Round about the cauldron go;
Upon the corner of the moon                            His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear              In the poison'd entrails throw.
There hangs a vaporous drop profound;                  Macduff lives in disgrace: sir, can you tell            Toad, that under cold stone
I'll catch it ere it come to ground:                   Where he bestows himself?                               Days and nights has thirty-one
And that distill'd by magic sleights                   Lord                                                    Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Shall raise such artificial sprites                    The son of Duncan,                                      Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.
As by the strength of their illusion                   From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth            ALL
Shall draw him on to his confusion:                    Lives in the English court, and is received             Double, double toil and trouble;
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear             Of the most pious Edward with such grace                Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
He hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear:                 That the malevolence of fortune nothing                 Second Witch
And you all know, security                             Takes from his high respect: thither Macduff            Fillet of a fenny snake,
Is mortals' chiefest enemy.                            Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid             In the cauldron boil and bake;
                                                       To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward:              Eye of newt and toe of frog,
                                                       That, by the help of these--with Him above              Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Music and a song within: 'Come away, come away,' & c
                                                       To ratify the work--we may again                        Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
                                                       Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights,           Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,
Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see,              Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives,        For a charm of powerful trouble,
Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.               Do faithful homage and receive free honours:            Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
                                                       All which we pine for now: and this report              ALL
Exit                                                   Hath so exasperate the king that he                     Double, double toil and trouble;
                                                       Prepares for some attempt of war.                       Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
                                                       LENNOX                                                  Third Witch
First Witch                                            Sent he to Macduff?                                     Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.     Lord                                                    Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
                                                       He did: and with an absolute 'Sir, not I,'              Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
Exeunt                                                 The cloudy messenger turns me his back,                 Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
                                                       And hums, as who should say 'You'll rue the time        Liver of blaspheming Jew,
                                                       That clogs me with this answer.'                        Gall of goat, and slips of yew
SCENE VI. Forres. The palace.                          LENNOX                                                  Silver'd in the moon's eclipse,
                                                       And that well might                                     Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
Enter LENNOX and another Lord                          Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance          Finger of birth-strangled babe
LENNOX                                                 His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel                 Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,         Fly to the court of England and unfold                  Make the gruel thick and slab:
Which can interpret further: only, I say,              His message ere he come, that a swift blessing          Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
Things have been strangely borne. The                  May soon return to this our suffering country           For the ingredients of our cauldron.
gracious Duncan                                        Under a hand accursed!                                  ALL
Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead:             Lord                                                    Double, double toil and trouble;
And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;          I'll send my prayers with him.                          Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd,                                                            Second Witch
For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late.                                                                  Cool it with a baboon's blood,
                                                       Exeunt                                                  Then the charm is firm and good.
Who cannot want the thought how monstrous
Enter HECATE to the other three Witches                 Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten               Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned, with a tree in his
                                                        Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten             hand
                                                        From the murderer's gibbet throw
HECATE
O well done! I commend your pains;                      Into the flame.                                    What is this
And every one shall share i' the gains;                 ALL                                                That rises like the issue of a king,
And now about the cauldron sing,                        Come, high or low;                                 And wears upon his baby-brow the round
                                                        Thyself and office deftly show!
Live elves and fairies in a ring,                                                                          And top of sovereignty?
Enchanting all that you put in.                                                                            ALL
                                                        Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head           Listen, but speak not to't.
Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' & c                                                                     Third Apparition
                                                                                                           Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
                                                        MACBETH
                                                        Tell me, thou unknown power,--                     Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
HECATE retires                                                                                             Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
                                                        First Witch
                                                        He knows thy thought:                              Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Second Witch                                            Hear his speech, but say thou nought.              Shall come against him.
By the pricking of my thumbs,                           First Apparition
Something wicked this way comes.                        Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;         Descends
Open, locks,                                            Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.
Whoever knocks!
                                                                                                           MACBETH
                                                        Descends                                           That will never be
Enter MACBETH                                                                                              Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
                                                                                                           Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
                                                        MACBETH
MACBETH                                                 Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;   Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood
How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!          Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one           Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
What is't you do?                                       word more,--                                       Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
ALL                                                                                                        To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart
                                                        First Witch
A deed without a name.                                  He will not be commanded: here's another,          Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art
MACBETH                                                                                                    Can tell so much: shall Banquo's issue ever
                                                        More potent than the first.
I conjure you, by that which you profess,                                                                  Reign in this kingdom?
Howe'er you come to know it, answer me:                                                                    ALL
                                                        Thunder. Second Apparition: A bloody Child         Seek to know no more.
Though you untie the winds and let them fight
Against the churches; though the yesty waves                                                               MACBETH
Confound and swallow navigation up;                     Second Apparition                                  I will be satisfied: deny me this,
Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down;      Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!                         And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.
Though castles topple on their warders' heads;          MACBETH                                            Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?
Though palaces and pyramids do slope                    Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee.
Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure   Second Apparition                                  Hautboys
Of nature's germens tumble all together,                Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn
Even till destruction sicken; answer me                 The power of man, for none of woman born
To what I ask you.                                      Shall harm Macbeth.                                First Witch
                                                                                                           Show!
First Witch
Speak.                                                                                                     Second Witch
                                                        Descends                                           Show!
Second Witch
Demand.                                                                                                    Third Witch
                                                        MACBETH                                            Show!
Third Witch
We'll answer.                                           Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee?      ALL
                                                        But yet I'll make assurance double sure,           Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
First Witch
                                                        And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;      Come like shadows, so depart!
Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,
Or from our masters?                                    That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,
MACBETH                                                 And sleep in spite of thunder.                     A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand;
Call 'em; let me see 'em.                                                                                  GHOST OF BANQUO following
First Witch
MACBETH                                                 LENNOX                                                    much further;
Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down!           'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word           But cruel are the times, when we are traitors
Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair,       Macduff is fled to England.                               And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.          MACBETH                                                   From what we fear, yet know not what we fear,
A third is like the former. Filthy hags!                Fled to England!                                          But float upon a wild and violent sea
Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes!         LENNOX                                                    Each way and move. I take my leave of you:
What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?   Ay, my good lord.                                         Shall not be long but I'll be here again:
Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more:               MACBETH                                                   Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass           Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits:                To what they were before. My pretty cousin,
Which shows me many more; and some I see                The flighty purpose never is o'ertook                     Blessing upon you!
That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry:          Unless the deed go with it; from this moment              LADY MACDUFF
Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true;                  The very firstlings of my heart shall be                  Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,           The firstlings of my hand. And even now,                  ROSS
And points at them for his.                             To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:   I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
                                                        The castle of Macduff I will surprise;                    It would be my disgrace and your discomfort:
Apparitions vanish                                      Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword            I take my leave at once.
                                                        His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
                                                        That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;      Exit
What, is this so?                                       This deed I'll do before this purpose cool.
First Witch                                             But no more sights!--Where are these gentlemen?
Ay, sir, all this is so: but why                        Come, bring me where they are.                            LADY MACDUFF
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?                                                                                     Sirrah, your father's dead;
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,                                                                           And what will you do now? How will you live?
                                                        Exeunt
And show the best of our delights:                                                                                Son
I'll charm the air to give a sound,                                                                               As birds do, mother.
While you perform your antic round:                     SCENE II. Fife. Macduff's castle.                         LADY MACDUFF
That this great king may kindly say,                                                                              What, with worms and flies?
Our duties did his welcome pay.                         Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSS                     Son
                                                                                                                  With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
                                                        LADY MACDUFF
Music. The witches dance and then vanish, with HECATE   What had he done, to make him fly the land?               LADY MACDUFF
                                                                                                                  Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime,
                                                        ROSS
                                                        You must have patience, madam.                            The pitfall nor the gin.
MACBETH                                                                                                           Son
Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour          LADY MACDUFF
                                                                                                                  Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
Stand aye accursed in the calendar!                     He had none:
                                                        His flight was madness: when our actions do not,          My father is not dead, for all your saying.
Come in, without there!                                                                                           LADY MACDUFF
                                                        Our fears do make us traitors.
                                                                                                                  Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?
                                                        ROSS
Enter LENNOX                                            You know not                                              Son
                                                        Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.                    Nay, how will you do for a husband?
                                                        LADY MACDUFF                                              LADY MACDUFF
LENNOX                                                                                                            Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.
What's your grace's will?                               Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,
                                                        His mansion and his titles in a place                     Son
MACBETH                                                                                                           Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.
Saw you the weird sisters?                              From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
                                                        He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,            LADY MACDUFF
LENNOX                                                                                                            Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith,
No, my lord.                                            The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
                                                        Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.              With wit enough for thee.
MACBETH                                                                                                           Son
Came they not by you?                                   All is the fear and nothing is the love;
                                                        As little is the wisdom, where the flight                 Was my father a traitor, mother?
LENNOX                                                                                                            LADY MACDUFF
No, indeed, my lord.                                    So runs against all reason.
                                                                                                                  Ay, that he was.
MACBETH                                                 ROSS
                                                        My dearest coz,                                           Son
Infected be the air whereon they ride;                                                                            What is a traitor?
And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear        I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband,
                                                        He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows              LADY MACDUFF
The galloping of horse: who was't came by?                                                                        Why, one that swears and lies.
                                                        The fits o' the season. I dare not speak
Son                                                        What are these faces?                                   MACDUFF
And be all traitors that do so?                            First Murderer                                          I am not treacherous.
LADY MACDUFF                                               Where is your husband?                                  MALCOLM
Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.   LADY MACDUFF                                            But Macbeth is.
Son                                                        I hope, in no place so unsanctified                     A good and virtuous nature may recoil
And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?            Where such as thou mayst find him.                      In an imperial charge. But I shall crave
LADY MACDUFF                                               First Murderer                                          your pardon;
Every one.                                                 He's a traitor.                                         That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose:
Son                                                        Son                                                     Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;
Who must hang them?                                        Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!                   Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
LADY MACDUFF                                               First Murderer                                          Yet grace must still look so.
Why, the honest men.                                       What, you egg!                                          MACDUFF
Son                                                                                                                I have lost my hopes.
Then the liars and swearers are fools,                     Stabbing him                                            MALCOLM
for there are liars and swearers enow to beat                                                                      Perchance even there where I did find my doubts.
the honest men and hang up them.                                                                                   Why in that rawness left you wife and child,
LADY MACDUFF                                               Young fry of treachery!                                 Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,
Now, God help thee, poor monkey!                           Son                                                     Without leave-taking? I pray you,
But how wilt thou do for a father?                         He has kill'd me, mother:                               Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
Son                                                        Run away, I pray you!                                   But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just,
If he were dead, you'ld weep for                                                                                   Whatever I shall think.
him: if you would not, it were a good sign                 Dies                                                    MACDUFF
that I should quickly have a new father.                                                                           Bleed, bleed, poor country!
LADY MACDUFF                                                                                                       Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure,
Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!                           Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying 'Murder!' Exeunt Murderers,   For goodness dare not cheque thee: wear thou
                                                           following her                                           thy wrongs;
Enter a Messenger                                                                                                  The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord:
                                                           SCENE III. England. Before the King's palace.           I would not be the villain that thou think'st
                                                                                                                   For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
Messenger                                                                                                          And the rich East to boot.
Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,               Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF                               MALCOLM
Though in your state of honour I am perfect.               MALCOLM                                                 Be not offended:
I doubt some danger does approach you nearly:              Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there          I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
If you will take a homely man's advice,                    Weep our sad bosoms empty.                              I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;
Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.           MACDUFF                                                 It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;             Let us rather                                           Is added to her wounds: I think withal
To do worse to you were fell cruelty,                      Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men           There would be hands uplifted in my right;
Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!        Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new morn        And here from gracious England have I offer
I dare abide no longer.                                    New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows           Of goodly thousands: but, for all this,
                                                           Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds             When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
                                                           As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out              Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Exit                                                       Like syllable of dolour.                                Shall have more vices than it had before,
                                                           MALCOLM                                                 More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,
LADY MACDUFF                                               What I believe I'll wail,                               By him that shall succeed.
Whither should I fly?                                      What know believe, and what I can redress,              MACDUFF
I have done no harm. But I remember now                    As I shall find the time to friend, I will.             What should he be?
I am in this earthly world; where to do harm               What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.            MALCOLM
Is often laudable, to do good sometime                     This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,      It is myself I mean: in whom I know
Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas,                 Was once thought honest: you have loved him well.       All the particulars of vice so grafted
Do I put up that womanly defence,                          He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young;                That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
To say I have done no harm?                                but something                                           Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state
                                                           You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom           Esteem him as a lamb, being compared
                                                           To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb                   With my confineless harms.
Enter Murderers                                            To appease an angry god.                                MACDUFF
Not in the legions                                  Uproar the universal peace, confound                  Well; more anon.--Comes the king forth, I pray you?
Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd         All unity on earth.                                   Doctor
In evils to top Macbeth.                            MACDUFF                                               Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls
MALCOLM                                             O Scotland, Scotland!                                 That stay his cure: their malady convinces
I grant him bloody,                                 MALCOLM                                               The great assay of art; but at his touch--
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,            If such a one be fit to govern, speak:                Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand--
Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin            I am as I have spoken.                                They presently amend.
That has a name: but there's no bottom, none,       MACDUFF                                               MALCOLM
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,   Fit to govern!                                        I thank you, doctor.
Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up      No, not to live. O nation miserable,
The cistern of my lust, and my desire               With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,             Exit Doctor
All continent impediments would o'erbear            When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
That did oppose my will: better Macbeth             Since that the truest issue of thy throne
Than such an one to reign.                          By his own interdiction stands accursed,              MACDUFF
MACDUFF                                             And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father        What's the disease he means?
Boundless intemperance                              Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee,    MALCOLM
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been                Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,              'Tis call'd the evil:
The untimely emptying of the happy throne           Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!             A most miraculous work in this good king;
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet            These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself               Which often, since my here-remain in England,
To take upon you what is yours: you may             Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,          I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,         Thy hope ends here!                                   Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.    MALCOLM                                               All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
We have willing dames enough: there cannot be       Macduff, this noble passion,                          The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
That vulture in you, to devour so many              Child of integrity, hath from my soul                 Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,           Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts      Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
Finding it so inclined.                             To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth        To the succeeding royalty he leaves
MALCOLM                                             By many of these trains hath sought to win me         The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
With this there grows                               Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me           He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,
In my most ill-composed affection such              From over-credulous haste: but God above              And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
A stanchless avarice that, were I king,             Deal between thee and me! for even now                That speak him full of grace.
I should cut off the nobles for their lands,        I put myself to thy direction, and
Desire his jewels and this other's house:           Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure              Enter ROSS
And my more-having would be as a sauce              The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
To make me hunger more; that I should forge         For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,         Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,                 MACDUFF
Destroying them for wealth.                         Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,              See, who comes here?
MACDUFF                                             At no time broke my faith, would not betray           MALCOLM
This avarice                                        The devil to his fellow and delight                   My countryman; but yet I know him not.
Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root      No less in truth than life: my first false speaking   MACDUFF
Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been          Was this upon myself: what I am truly,                My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.
The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear;      Is thine and my poor country's to command:            MALCOLM
Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will.         Whither indeed, before thy here-approach,             I know him now. Good God, betimes remove
Of your mere own: all these are portable,           Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,            The means that makes us strangers!
With other graces weigh'd.                          Already at a point, was setting forth.                ROSS
MALCOLM                                             Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness        Sir, amen.
But I have none: the king-becoming graces,          Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?    MACDUFF
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,         MACDUFF                                               Stands Scotland where it did?
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,             Such welcome and unwelcome things at once             ROSS
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,             'Tis hard to reconcile.                               Alas, poor country!
I have no relish of them, but abound                                                                      Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot
In the division of each several crime,                                                                    Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,
                                                    Enter a Doctor                                        But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,                                                                 Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air
                                                    MALCOLM                                               Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell                MACDUFF                                                O, I could play the woman with mine eyes
Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives   If it be mine,                                         And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens,
Expire before the flowers in their caps,              Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.           Cut short all intermission; front to front
Dying or ere they sicken.                             ROSS                                                   Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
MACDUFF                                               Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,          Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
O, relation                                           Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound       Heaven forgive him too!
Too nice, and yet too true!                           That ever yet they heard.                              MALCOLM
MALCOLM                                               MACDUFF                                                This tune goes manly.
What's the newest grief?                              Hum! I guess at it.                                    Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
ROSS                                                  ROSS                                                   Our lack is nothing but our leave; Macbeth
That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker:          Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes          Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Each minute teems a new one.                          Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,            Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may:
MACDUFF                                               Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,            The night is long that never finds the day.
How does my wife?                                     To add the death of you.
ROSS                                                  MALCOLM                                                Exeunt
Why, well.                                            Merciful heaven!
MACDUFF                                               What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
And all my children?                                  Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak       ACT V
ROSS                                                  Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.
Well too.                                             MACDUFF                                                SCENE I. Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle.
MACDUFF                                               My children too?
The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?           ROSS
ROSS                                                  Wife, children, servants, all                          Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman
No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.     That could be found.                                   Doctor
MACDUFF                                               MACDUFF                                                I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive
But not a niggard of your speech: how goes't?         And I must be from thence!                             no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?
ROSS                                                  My wife kill'd too?                                    Gentlewoman
When I came hither to transport the tidings,          ROSS                                                   Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour        I have said.                                           her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon
Of many worthy fellows that were out;                 MALCOLM                                                her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it,
Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,          Be comforted:                                          write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again
For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot:             Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,          return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.
Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland         To cure this deadly grief.                             Doctor
Would create soldiers, make our women fight,          MACDUFF                                                A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once
To doff their dire distresses.                        He has no children. All my pretty ones?                the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of
MALCOLM                                               Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?                     watching! In this slumbery agitation, besides her
Be't their comfort                                    What, all my pretty chickens and their dam             walking and other actual performances, what, at any
We are coming thither: gracious England hath          At one fell swoop?                                     time, have you heard her say?
Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men;             MALCOLM                                                Gentlewoman
An older and a better soldier none                    Dispute it like a man.                                 That, sir, which I will not report after her.
That Christendom gives out.                           MACDUFF                                                Doctor
ROSS                                                  I shall do so;                                         You may to me: and 'tis most meet you should.
Would I could answer                                  But I must also feel it as a man:                      Gentlewoman
This comfort with the like! But I have words          I cannot but remember such things were,                Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to
That would be howl'd out in the desert air,           That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,     confirm my speech.
Where hearing should not latch them.                  And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
MACDUFF                                               They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,       Enter LADY MACBETH, with a taper
What concern they?                                    Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
The general cause? or is it a fee-grief               Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now!
Due to some single breast?                            MALCOLM                                                Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise;
ROSS                                                  Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief         and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.
No mind that's honest                                 Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.      Doctor
But in it shares some woe; though the main part       MACDUFF                                                How came she by that light?
Pertains to you alone.                                                                                       Gentlewoman
Why, it stood by her: she has light by her               Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so   What does the tyrant?
continually; 'tis her command.                           pale.--I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he      CAITHNESS
Doctor                                                   cannot come out on's grave.                           Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
You see, her eyes are open.                              Doctor                                                Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him
Gentlewoman                                              Even so?                                              Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
Ay, but their sense is shut.                             LADY MACBETH                                          He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Doctor                                                   To bed, to bed! there's knocking at the gate:         Within the belt of rule.
What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.   come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's     ANGUS
Gentlewoman                                              done cannot be undone.--To bed, to bed, to bed!       Now does he feel
It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus                                                              His secret murders sticking on his hands;
washing her hands: I have known her continue in          Exit                                                  Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
this a quarter of an hour.                                                                                     Those he commands move only in command,
LADY MACBETH                                                                                                   Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
Yet here's a spot.                                       Doctor                                                Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Doctor                                                   Will she go now to bed?                               Upon a dwarfish thief.
Hark! she speaks: I will set down what comes from        Gentlewoman                                           MENTEITH
her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.        Directly.                                             Who then shall blame
LADY MACBETH                                             Doctor                                                His pester'd senses to recoil and start,
Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why,            Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds          When all that is within him does condemn
then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my        Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds           Itself for being there?
lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we           To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets:   CAITHNESS
fear who knows it, when none can call our power to       More needs she the divine than the physician.         Well, march we on,
account?--Yet who would have thought the old man         God, God forgive us all! Look after her;              To give obedience where 'tis truly owed:
to have had so much blood in him.                        Remove from her the means of all annoyance,           Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal,
Doctor                                                   And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night:         And with him pour we in our country's purge
Do you mark that?                                        My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight.           Each drop of us.
LADY MACBETH                                             I think, but dare not speak.                          LENNOX
The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now?--        Gentlewoman                                           Or so much as it needs,
What, will these hands ne'er be clean?--No more o'       Good night, good doctor.                              To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds.
that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with                                                               Make we our march towards Birnam.
this starting.                                           Exeunt
Doctor                                                                                                         Exeunt, marching
Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.
Gentlewoman                                              SCENE II. The country near Dunsinane.
She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of                                                                SCENE III. Dunsinane. A room in the castle.
that: heaven knows what she has known.                   Drum and colours. Enter MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS,
LADY MACBETH                                             LENNOX, and Soldiers                                  Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants
Here's the smell of the blood still: all the             MENTEITH                                              MACBETH
perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little          The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,         Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
hand. Oh, oh, oh!                                        His uncle Siward and the good Macduff:                Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
Doctor                                                   Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes          I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.       Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm              Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
Gentlewoman                                              Excite the mortified man.                             All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:
I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the        ANGUS                                                 'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman
dignity of the whole body.                               Near Birnam wood                                      Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then fly,
Doctor                                                   Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.    false thanes,
Well, well, well,--                                      CAITHNESS                                             And mingle with the English epicures:
Gentlewoman                                              Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?           The mind I sway by and the heart I bear
Pray God it be, sir.                                     LENNOX                                                Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.
Doctor                                                   For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file
This disease is beyond my practise: yet I have known     Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son,
those which have walked in their sleep who have died                                                           Enter a Servant
                                                         And many unrough youths that even now
holily in their beds.                                    Protest their first of manhood.
LADY MACBETH                                             MENTEITH
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!             Not so sick, my lord,                                    Let every soldier hew him down a bough
Where got'st thou that goose look?                            As she is troubled with thick coming fancies,            And bear't before him: thereby shall we shadow
Servant                                                       That keep her from her rest.                             The numbers of our host and make discovery
There is ten thousand--                                       MACBETH                                                  Err in report of us.
MACBETH                                                       Cure her of that.                                        Soldiers
Geese, villain!                                               Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,              It shall be done.
Servant                                                       Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,                   SIWARD
Soldiers, sir.                                                Raze out the written troubles of the brain               We learn no other but the confident tyrant
MACBETH                                                       And with some sweet oblivious antidote                   Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,                     Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff         Our setting down before 't.
Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?                  Which weighs upon the heart?                             MALCOLM
Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine                Doctor                                                   'Tis his main hope:
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?            Therein the patient                                      For where there is advantage to be given,
Servant                                                       Must minister to himself.                                Both more and less have given him the revolt,
The English force, so please you.                             MACBETH                                                  And none serve with him but constrained things
MACBETH                                                       Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.               Whose hearts are absent too.
Take thy face hence.                                          Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff.              MACDUFF
                                                              Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.        Let our just censures
Exit Servant                                                  Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast       Attend the true event, and put we on
                                                              The water of my land, find her disease,                  Industrious soldiership.
                                                              And purge it to a sound and pristine health,             SIWARD
Seyton!--I am sick at heart,                                  I would applaud thee to the very echo,                   The time approaches
When I behold--Seyton, I say!--This push                      That should applaud again.--Pull't off, I say.--         That will with due decision make us know
Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.                        What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug,              What we shall say we have and what we owe.
I have lived long enough: my way of life                      Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?   Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate,
Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf;                     Doctor                                                   But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:
And that which should accompany old age,                      Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation                 Towards which advance the war.
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,                Makes us hear something.
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,                 MACBETH                                                  Exeunt, marching
Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,              Bring it after me.
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton!   I will not be afraid of death and bane,
                                                              Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.                    SCENE V. Dunsinane. Within the castle.
Enter SEYTON                                                  Doctor
                                                              [Aside] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,            Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum and
                                                              Profit again should hardly draw me here.                 colours
SEYTON
What is your gracious pleasure?                                                                                        MACBETH
                                                              Exeunt                                                   Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
MACBETH
                                                                                                                       The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength
What news more?
                                                                                                                       Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie
SEYTON                                                        SCENE IV. Country near Birnam wood.                      Till famine and the ague eat them up:
All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.
                                                                                                                       Were they not forced with those that should be ours,
MACBETH
                                                              Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD and YOUNG        We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
Give me my armour.                                            SIWARD, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS,             And beat them backward home.
                                                              LENNOX, ROSS, and Soldiers, marching
SEYTON
'Tis not needed yet.                                          MALCOLM                                                  A cry of women within
                                                              Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand
MACBETH
I'll put it on.                                               That chambers will be safe.
                                                              MENTEITH                                                 What is that noise?
Send out more horses; skirr the country round;
                                                              We doubt it nothing.                                     SEYTON
Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.                                                                     It is the cry of women, my good lord.
How does your patient, doctor?                                SIWARD
                                                              What wood is this before us?
Doctor
                                                              MENTEITH                                                 Exit
                                                              The wood of Birnam.
                                                              MALCOLM
MACBETH                                               I pull in resolution, and begin                      YOUNG SIWARD
I have almost forgot the taste of fears;              To doubt the equivocation of the fiend               No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd        That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood    Than any is in hell.
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair           Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood                MACBETH
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir             Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!           My name's Macbeth.
As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors;   If this which he avouches does appear,               YOUNG SIWARD
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts        There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.         The devil himself could not pronounce a title
Cannot once start me.                                 I gin to be aweary of the sun,                       More hateful to mine ear.
                                                      And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.    MACBETH
Re-enter SEYTON                                       Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!       No, nor more fearful.
                                                      At least we'll die with harness on our back.         YOUNG SIWARD
                                                                                                           Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
Wherefore was that cry?                                                                                    I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.
                                                      Exeunt
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
                                                                                                           They fight and YOUNG SIWARD is slain
MACBETH                                               SCENE VI. Dunsinane. Before the castle.
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.         Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF,    MACBETH
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,              and their Army, with boughs                          Thou wast born of woman
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day                                                                  But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
                                                      MALCOLM
To the last syllable of recorded time,                Now near enough: your leafy screens throw down.      Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools             And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle,
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!                                                            Exit
                                                      Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player            Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
                                                      Shall take upon 's what else remains to do,          Alarums. Enter MACDUFF
And then is heard no more: it is a tale               According to our order.
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
                                                      SIWARD
Signifying nothing.                                   Fare you well.                                       MACDUFF
                                                      Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,          That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face!
Enter a Messenger                                     Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.                If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine,
                                                      MACDUFF                                              My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
                                                      Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,   I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.                                                          Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth,
                                                      Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.
Messenger                                                                                                  Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge
Gracious my lord,                                                                                          I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;
I should report that which I say I saw,               Exeunt
                                                                                                           By this great clatter, one of greatest note
But know not how to do it.                                                                                 Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
MACBETH                                               SCENE VII. Another part of the field.                And more I beg not.
Well, say, sir.
Messenger
As I did stand my watch upon the hill,                Alarums. Enter MACBETH                               Exit. Alarums
I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,          MACBETH
The wood began to move.                               They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,
                                                                                                           Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD
MACBETH                                               But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What's he
Liar and slave!                                       That was not born of woman? Such a one
Messenger                                             Am I to fear, or none.                               SIWARD
Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:                                                                  This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd:
Within this three mile may you see it coming;                                                              The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;
                                                      Enter YOUNG SIWARD
I say, a moving grove.                                                                                     The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
MACBETH                                                                                                    The day almost itself professes yours,
If thou speak'st false,                               YOUNG SIWARD                                         And little is to do.
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,             What is thy name?                                    MALCOLM
Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,       MACBETH                                              We have met with foes
I care not if thou dost for me as much.               Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.                        That strike beside us.
SIWARD                                                Painted on a pole, and underwrit,                           Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head
Enter, sir, the castle.                               'Here may you see the tyrant.'
                                                      MACBETH
                                                                                                                  MACDUFF
Exeunt. Alarums                                       I will not yield,                                           Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands
                                                      To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
                                                                                                                  The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
                                                      And to be baited with the rabble's curse.                   I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
SCENE VIII. Another part of the field.                Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
                                                                                                                  That speak my salutation in their minds;
                                                      And thou opposed, being of no woman born,                   Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:
Enter MACBETH                                         Yet I will try the last. Before my body                     Hail, King of Scotland!
MACBETH                                               I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,
                                                                                                                  ALL
Why should I play the Roman fool, and die             And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'         Hail, King of Scotland!
On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
Do better upon them.                                  Exeunt, fighting. Alarums                                   Flourish

Enter MACDUFF                                         Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM,
                                                                                                                  MALCOLM
                                                      SIWARD, ROSS, the other Thanes, and Soldiers                We shall not spend a large expense of time
MACDUFF                                                                                                           Before we reckon with your several loves,
Turn, hell-hound, turn!                               MALCOLM                                                     And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
MACBETH                                               I would the friends we miss were safe arrived.              Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
Of all men else I have avoided thee:                  SIWARD                                                      In such an honour named. What's more to do,
But get thee back; my soul is too much charged        Some must go off: and yet, by these I see,                  Which would be planted newly with the time,
With blood of thine already.                          So great a day as this is cheaply bought.                   As calling home our exiled friends abroad
MACDUFF                                               MALCOLM                                                     That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
I have no words:                                      Macduff is missing, and your noble son.                     Producing forth the cruel ministers
My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain        ROSS                                                        Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,
Than terms can give thee out!                         Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:               Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
                                                      He only lived but till he was a man;                        Took off her life; this, and what needful else
They fight                                            The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd               That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
                                                      In the unshrinking station where he fought,                 We will perform in measure, time and place:
                                                      But like a man he died.                                     So, thanks to all at once and to each one,
MACBETH                                               SIWARD                                                      Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.
Thou losest labour:                                   Then he is dead?
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air                ROSS
With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed:                                                                     Flourish. Exeunt
                                                      Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;              Must not be measured by his worth, for then
I bear a charmed life, which must not yield,          It hath no end.
To one of woman born.                                 SIWARD
MACDUFF                                               Had he his hurts before?
Despair thy charm;                                    ROSS
And let the angel whom thou still hast served         Ay, on the front.
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb         SIWARD
Untimely ripp'd.                                      Why then, God's soldier be he!
MACBETH                                               Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,             I would not wish them to a fairer death:
For it hath cow'd my better part of man!              And so, his knell is knoll'd.
And be these juggling fiends no more believed,        MALCOLM
That palter with us in a double sense;                He's worth more sorrow,
That keep the word of promise to our ear,             And that I'll spend for him.
And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.   SIWARD
MACDUFF                                               He's worth no more
Then yield thee, coward,                              They say he parted well, and paid his score:
And live to be the show and gaze o' the time:         And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,

								
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