Macbeth Shakespeare, William Curated by Lou Burnard Privately published on the Lacy Website L0132 Shakespeare, WilliamMacbethA Tragedy63 pp (UM copy: 289 - 352) Lacy's Acting Edition, volume 9, No. 0132N80428 HVD from HT UM from HT Premiered at Drury Lane Windsor Castle4 Feb. 1853 Royal Princess's Theatre14 Feb. 1853 TRAGEDY DUNCAN Duncan. MALCOLM Malcolm. DONALBAIN MACBETH Macbeth. BANQUO Banquo. MACDUFF Macduff. LENOX Lenox. ROSSE Rosse. MENTEITH ANGUS CAITHNESS FLEANCE Fleance. SIWARD Siward. SEYTON Seyton. PHYSICIAN Doctor. WOUNDED OFFICER OFFICERS Officer. APPARITIONS 1st Spirit 2nd Spirit 3rd Spirit 4th Spirit 5th Spirit Apparition. LADY MACBETH Lady M. GENTLEWOMAN Gentlewoman. HECATE Hecate. WITCHES 1st Singing W. 1st. Witch. 2nd Singing W. 2nd. Witch. 3rd Singing W. 3rd. Witch. Singing W. Witches. [Messenger] Messenger. [Murderers] 1st Murderer. 2nd Murderer. 3rd Murderer. Murderer. [Soldier] Soldier. [Multiple speakers] All. Chorus. Lords. Macbeth and Lenox. Voices Metadata updated from new catalogue Initial header added Macbeth,A Tragedy.By William Shakespeare.Thomas Hailes Lacy. 89, Strand, London

As performed at Windsor Castle, on Friday, February 4th, 1853, and at the Royal Princess's Theatre, on Monday, February the 14th, 1853, under the Management of Mr. Charles Kean. Stage Manager, Mr. George Ellis.

The Scenery painted under the direction of Mr. Grieve. The Vocal Music under the superintendence of Mr. J. L. Hatton. Previous to the Tragedy, Bishop's Shakespearian Overture.

Characters. Duncan (King of Scotland) Mr. F. Cooke. At the Court Theatre, Duncan was performed by Mr. Bartley. Malcolm (his Sons) Mr. J. F. Cathcart. Donalbain Miss Hastings. Macbeth Mr. Charles Kean. Banquo Army Mr. Graham. (Generals of the King’s Army) (Noblemen of Scotland) Macduff Mr. Ryder. Lenox Mr. G. Everett. Rosse Mr. James Vining. Menteith Mr. Stacey. Angus Mr. Brazier. Caithness Mr. Stoakes. Fleance (Son to Banquo) Miss Kate Terry. Siward (Earl of Northumberland, General of the English Forces) Mr. Terry, Seyton (an Officer attending on Macbeth) Mr. Paulo. Physician Mr. J. Chester. Wounded Officer Mr. Hermann Vezin. Officers Messrs. J. Collett, Daly, & Rolleston. Apparitions Mr. Collis, Miss J Lovell and Miss Desborough. Lady Macbeth Mrs. Charles Kean. Gentlewoman (attending on Lady Macbeth) Mrs. W. Daly. Hecate Mr. H. Drayton Witches Messrs Addison, Meadows, and H. Saker. VOCAL STRENGTH ENGAGED FOR THIS OCCASION. Miss Poole, Mr. Manvers, Mr. H. Drayton, Mr. S. Jones. Mesdames Pawsey, Charlton, Frost, Byers, Millar, Bowden, Walker, Goldsmith, Robertson, Morgan, Cowlrick, Hughes. Messrs. James Cronin, M. Cronin, Deither, Beale, Bowden, Grundy, Jackson, Smithson, Barnett, I. Galli, Miller, Fleetwood, Morgan, Foster, May, Pendygrass, W. Price, J. Price, Sharp, Roberts, Hodges, Galli, Beale, Pawsey, Holgate, Graham, Butler, McCarthy, Skelton, Simmons, Cowlrick, Frost, Temple, Day, Gledhill, Ball, Grundy, Husk
PROGRAMME OF SCENERY CAMP NEAR FORES—SITE OF SWENO’S PILLAR. (Painted by Dayes) A HEATH. (Cuthbert). INTERIOR OF THE PALACE AT FORES, (F. Lloyds). A ROOM IN MACBETH’S CASTLE AT INVERNESS. (F. Lloyds.) EXTERIOR OF THE SAME. (Dayes.) COURT WITHIN MACBETH’S CASTLE, AT INVERNESS, (Gordon.) LANDSCAPE NEAR INVERNESS. (Gordon.) CHAMBER IN THE PALACE OF FORES. (F. Lloyds.) GLEN NEAR THE PALACE. (Cuthbert.) BANQUETTING HALL IN THE PALACE. (Dayes.) DISTANT VIEW OF IONA BY MOONLIGHT, (Cuthbert) THE PIT OF ACHERON. (Gordon.) England —Exterior of an Anglo-Saxon City, with Roman Wall (Gordon.) CHAMBER WITHIN MACBETH’S CASTLE, AT DUNSINANE. (F. Lloyds.) COURT OF THE CASTLE. (Dayes.) Country near Dunsinane, (Gordon.) VIEW NEAR THE CASTLE, (Gordon.) OUTER WALLS OF THE CASTLE, (Dayes.)
ADDRESS.

“The success which attended the production of “King John,” last season at this theatre, has encouraged me to attempt another Shakesperian revival on the same scale. The very uncertain information, however, which we possess respecting the dress worn by the inhabitants of Scotland in the eleventh century, renders any attempt to present the tragedy of “Macbeth,” attired in the costume of that period, a task of very great difficulty. I hope, therefore, I may not be deemed presumptuous if I intrude a few words upon the subject, and endeavour to explain upon what authorities I have based my opinions,

In the absence of any positive information handed down to us upon this point, I have borrowed materials from those nations to whom, Scotland was constantly opposed in war. The continual inroads of the Norsemen, and the invasion of Canute, in 1031, who, combining in his own person the sovereignty of England, Norway, and Denmark, was the most powerful monarch of his time, may have taught, at least, the higher classes, the necessity of adopting the superior weapons and better defensive armour of their enemies; for these reasons, I have introduced the tunic, mantle, cross gartering, and ringed byrne of the Danes and Anglo-Saxons, between whom it does not appear any very material difference existed ; retaining however, the peculiarity of “the striped and chequered garb," which seems to be generally admitted as belonging to the Scotch long anterior to the history of this play; together with the eagle feather in the helmet, which, according to Gaelic tradition, was the distinguishing mark of a chieftain. Party coloured woollens and cloths appear to have been commonly worn among the Celtic tribes from a very early period.

Diodorus Siculus and Pliny allude to this peculiarity in their account of the dress of the Belgic Gauls; Strabo, Pliny, and Xiphilin, record the dress of Boadicea, Queen of the Iceni, as being woven chequer-wise, of many colours, comprising purple, light and dark red, violet, and blue.

We have every reason to believe, that the armour and weapons of the date of Macbeth were of rich workmanship.

Harold Hardrada, King of Norway, is described by Snorre, as wearing in the battle with Harold II, King of England, a.d, 1066, a blue tunic, and a splendid helmet. The Norwegians not having expected a battle that day, are said to have been without their coats of mail.

This mail appears to have been composed of iron rings or bosses, sewn upon cloth or leather, like that of the Anglo-Saxons. Thorlef, a young Icelandic, or Norwegian warrior of the tenth century, is mentioned in the Eyrbiggia Saga, as wearing a most beautiful dress, and that his arms and equipments were extremely splendid.

The seals and monuments of the early kings and nobles of Scotland represent them as armed and attired in a style similar to their Anglo-Norman contemporaries. Meyrick, in his celebrated work on ancient armour, gives a plate of Alexander I., who commenced his reign in 1107 (only fifty years after the death of Macbeth), and there we find him wearing a hauberk, as depicted in Saxon illuminations, over a tunic of red and blue cloth.

The Earl of Huntingdon, who succeeded Alexander, under the title of David I., is represented on horseback in his seal, wearing a tunic to the knee, which C. H. Smith (one of our most distinguished authorities, to whom I am deeply indebted on this, as on all former occasions), in his work on the ancient costume of England, describes as being party coloured; in the same volume he gives the figure of a Scotch knight of the time of Edward I., 1306, who holds a spear of a leaf-shaped blade; on his head he wears a small skull- cap of steel, like some of the ancient Anglo-Saxon warriors of the eleventh century, and he is habited in a surcoat of cloth, descending to the knee, very much resembling a kind of tartan. Siward, Earl of Northumberland, and his son, who, with their followers, were despatched by King Edward the Confessor, to the aid of Malcolm, I have equipped in the leathern suits called Corium or Corietum, which were introduced among the Saxons in the ninth century, and are described as having been worn by Earl Harold’s soldiers in 1063, in his war with the Welsh. In the life of St. Colomba, written in Latin by Adomnan, one of his successors in the early part of the seventh century, and translated into English by Dr. John Smith, DD. in 1798, we are told that the monks at that time were clothed in the skins of beasts, though latterly they had woollen stuffs, manufactured by themselves; and linen, probably imported from the continent. The houses wore made of wicker, or wands, woven on stakes, which were afterwards plasterod with clay; and even the Abbey of Iona was built of the same rude materials

Roderick, King of Strathclyde, is mentioned by Ducange sleeping on a feather bed about this date, so that even in those primitive ages luxuries were known among the great.

In the four centuries and a half which intervened between the death of St. Colomba and the reign of Macbeth, it is reasonable to presume that considerable improvements took place among the Scotch, and that the fashion of their dress and buildings was borrowed from their more civilized neighbours. Under these considerations, the architecture, previous to tho Norman Conquest, has been adopted throughout the play. During the five centuries which preceded that event, the Anglo-Saxons made great advances, and erected many castles and churches of considerable importance; they excelled in iron work, and ornamented their buildings frequently with colour. On this subject I have availed myself of the valuable knowledge of George Godwin, Esq., F.R.S. of the Royal Institute of Architects, to whose suggestions I take this opportunity of acknowledging my obligation.

CHARLES KEAN.

The ample and lucid observations of Mr. Charles Kean upon the Costume and general appliances of Macbeth, as produced at his theatre, are so explicit and directly to the purpose, that any lengthened detail of the individual dresses worn may be dispensed with. It is impossible to refer to more valuable authorities than those named by Mr. Kean, and every spectator must bear testimony to the artistic spirit which combining research, discrimination, and accuracy in quotation and detail, has produced a truthful originality in dramatic effect not before witnessed upon the British stage.

Long red gown, brown mantle embroidered at edge, fastened in front of throat, emall crown of gold; grey hair and beard ; royal staff. Chocolate coloured shirt, tight sleeves: hauberk or coat of mail, (rings of steel on leather); grey leggings, bound round the legs with straps of buff leather; buff leather shoes; steel helmet, with two eagle feathers in socket, in front; small circular shield of hide, strengthened and defended by bosses of brass of steel, when not in use suspended on the left aide by chain or strap from the girdle; party coloured mantle fastened with fibula on the right shoulder; spear, with flame-headed point. Second dress.—Red shirt; Blue mantle and leggings; black embroidered shoes, reaching to ankle ; gold turret shaped crown; regal staff. Third dress—Dark shirt; coat of ringed and flexible steel mail. The other dresses are merely modifications of the above, varying in colour, material, and quality, according to the rank of the individual, the style and character of the period being preserved throughout. The mantles and dresses display a variety of checquered and variegated colours. Some of the soldiers are attired in saffron shirts, with neck armour of rings or plates of brass, iron, or steel, and the conical skin cap, seen in the Bayeaux tapestry and other illuminations of the time. The arms are of steel and iron, the swords of medium length, broad at the hilt and tapering on both sides tothe point, the scabbards universally of leather or wood, spears, maces, hammers, double-headed axes of many shapes, slings and bows were also used; long hair, with moustache and beard, were generally worn. Woollen robes of sky blue; harps with 12 strings, for shape consult Ledwich's Antiquities of Ireland, also engraved in Meyrick and Smith. Light blue dress, the skirt diversifed in colours from knee; party coloured mantle, fastened by fibula on right shoulder ; coronet of gold over kerchief, or head covering. Second dress. —The same shape, only richer in material, each portion of dress embroidered in gold. Third dress. —The White stuff dress, light grey mantle Dresses of light woollen material, and scarves or mantles, of the same, the hair worn flowing down the back, confined by a circlet. It is perhaps unnecessary to remark that silk, satin, or velvet is not amongst the material employed for dresses of this period.

T. H. L.

Macbeth.
ACT 1
Scene I. — An open Place. Thunder and lightning. Three Witches discovered. 1st. Witch. When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain? 2nd. Witch. When the hurlyburly’s done, When the battle’s lost and won: 3rd. Witch. That will be ere set of sun. 1st. Witch. Where the place? 2nd. Witch. Upon the heath: 3rd. Witch. There to meet with Macbeth. 1st. Witch.

I come, Graymalkin!

All. Paddock calls.: — Anon. — Fair is foul, and foul is fair; Hover through the fog and filthy air. Witches vanish.
Scene II. — A Camp near Fores. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, with Attendants, L., meeting a bleeding Soldier, R. Duncan. What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state. Malcolm. This is the sergeant Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought ’Gainst my captivity.— Hail, brave friend! Say to the king the knowledge of the broil, As thou didst leave it. Soldier. Doubtfully it stood; As two spent swimmers, that do cling together, And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald From the Western Isles Of Kernes and Gallowglasses is supplied; And Fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, Showed like a rebel’s whore: But all’s too weak: For brave Macbeth, (well he deserves that name), Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish'd steel, Which smok'd with bloody execution, Like valour’s minion, Carved out his passage, till he fac'd the slave; And ne’er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, Till he unseamed him from the nave to the chops, And fix'd his head upon our battlements. Duncan. O valiant cousin, worthy gentleman! Soldier. Mark, King of Scotland, mark: No sooner justice had, with valour armed, Compelled these skipping Kernes to trust their heels; But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, With furbished arms and new supplies of men, Began a fresh assault. Duncan. Dismay'd not this our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? Soldier. Yes, as sparrows, eagles; or the hare the lion. If I say sooth, I must report they were As cannons overcharged with double cracks; So they doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe. Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds Or memorize another Golgotha, I cannot tell— But I am faint, my gashes cry for help. Duncan. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds; They smack of honor both:— Go, get him surgeons. The Soldier is supported off, L. Who comes here? Malcolm. The worthy Thane of Rosse. Lenox. What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look, That comes to speak things strange. Enter Rosse, R. Rosse. God save the King. Duncan. Whence cam’st thou, worthy Thane? Rosse. From Fife, great king, Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky, And fan our people cold. Norway himself, with terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyal traitor, The Thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict: Till that Bellona’s bridegroom, lapt in proof, Confronted him with self-comparisons, Point against point, rebellious, arm ’gainst arm, Curbing his lavish spirit: And to conclude, The victory fell on us; — Duncan. Great happiness! Rosse. That now Sweno, the Norways’ king, craves composition; Nor would we deign him burial of his men, Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes' inch Ten thousand dollars to our general use. Duncan. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest: — Go, pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth. Rosse. I’ll see it done. Duncan. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. Exeunt Duncan and Nobles, L., Rosse, Angus, and two others, R.
Scene III. — A Heath. Thunder. Thunder. Enter the three Witches. 1st. Witch. Where hast thou been, sister? 2nd. Witch. Killing swine. 3rd. Witch. Sister, where thou? 1st. Witch. A sailor’s wife had chesnuts in her lap, And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd: — “Give me,” quoth I. “Aroint thee, witch!” the rump-fed ronyon cries. Her husband’s to Aleppo gone, master o’ the Tiger; But in a sieve I’ll thither sail, And, like a rat without a tail, I’ll do, I’ll do, and I’ll do. 2nd. Witch. I’ll give thee a wind. 1st. Witch. Thou art kind. 3rd. Witch. And I another. 1st. Witch. I myself have all the other; And the very ports they blow, All the quarters that they know I’ the shipman’s card "to show." "To show". This addition is from Mr. Collier's recently published (and, in many instances, most valuable) emendations to Shakespeare. I will drain him dry as hay: Sleep shall, neither night nor day, Hang upon his pent-house lid; He shall live a man forbid: Weary seven-nights, nine times nine, Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine: Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tost. Look what I have. 2nd. Witch.

Show me, show me.

1st. Witch. Here I have a pilot’s thumb, Wreck'd as homeward he did come. (drum within) 3rd. Witch. A drum, a drum; Macbeth doth come. All. (they join hands, and go round whilst speaking) The weïrd sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about; Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine; And thrice again, to make up nine: Peace! the charm’s wound up. Macbeth. (without) Command they make a halt upon the heath. Voices (without) Halt, — halt, — halt! Enter Macbeth and Banquo, L. U. E. Macbeth. So foul and fair a day I have not seen. Banquo. How far is ’t call'd to Forres?— What are these, So wither'd, and so wild in their attire; That look not like the inhabitants o’ the Earth, And yet are on’t?— Live you? Or are you aught That man may question? You seem to understand me, By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips. — You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so. Macbeth. Speak, if you can; — What are you? 1st. Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! 2nd. Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! 3rd. Witch. All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king hereafter! Banquo. Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear Things that do sound so fair?— I’ the name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace, and great prediction Of noble having, and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not: If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow and which will not; Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear, Your favours, nor your hate. 1st. Witch.

Hail!

2nd. Witch.

Hail!

3rd. Witch.

Hail!

1st. Witch. Lesser than Macbeth and greater. 2nd. Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier. 3rd. Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none. Witches. So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! Macbeth. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more: By Sinel’s death, I know, I am Thane of Glamis; But how of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman; and, to be king, Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence? or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting. Speak, I charge you. Witches vanish. Banquo. The earth hath bubbles, as the water hath, And these are of them; — Whither are they vanish'd? Macbeth. Into the air; and what seem'd corporal, melted As breath into the wind. — Would they had staid! Banquo. Were such things here, as we do speak about? Or have we eaten of the insane root, That takes the reason prisoner? Macbeth. Your children shall be kings. Banquo. You shall be a king. Macbeth. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so? Banquo. To the self-same tune and words. Who’s here? Enter Rosse and Lenox, R. Rosse. The King hath happily received, Macbeth, The news of thy success: and when he reads Thy personal venture in the rebels’ fight, His wonders and his praises do contend, Which should be thine, or his: Silenced with that, In viewing o’er the rest o’ the self-same day He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, Strange images of death. As thick as tale Came post with post; and every one did bear Thy praises in his kingdom’s great defense, And pour'd them down before him. Lenox. We are sent To give thee, from our royal master, thanks; To herald thee into his sight, not pay thee. Rosse. And for an earnest of a greater honour, He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor: In which addition, hail, most worthy Thane! For it is thine. Banquo. (aside, L.) What, can the devil speak true? Macbeth. The Thane of Cawdor lives; why do you dress me In borrow'd robes? Lenox. Who was the Thane, lives yet; But under heavy judgment bears that life Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was Combined with Norway; or did line the rebel With hidden help and vantage; or that with both He labored in his country’s wreck, I know not; But treasons capital, confess'd and prov'd, Have overthrown him. Macbeth. Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor: The greatest is behind. (aside) Thanks for your pains. — Do you not hope your children shall be kings, When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me Promised no less to them? Banquo. That, trusted home, Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But ’tis strange. And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths; Win us with honest trifles, to betray ’s In deepest consequence.— Cousins, a word, I pray you. (retiring with them) Macbeth. Two truths are told As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen.- This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill; cannot be good. — If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor: If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings: My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man that function Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is, But what is not. Banquo. Look, how our partner’s rapt. Macbeth. If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me Without my stir. Banquo. New honours come upon him, Like our strange garments; cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use. Macbeth. Come what come may; Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. Banquo. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. Macbeth. Give me your favour: — my dull brain was wrought With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains Are register'd where every day I turn The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king. Think upon what hath chanced; and, at more time, The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other. (aside to Banquo) Banquo. Very gladly. Macbeth. Till then, enough. Come, friends. Exeunt, R.
Scene IV. — Fores. A Room in the Palace. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, and Attendants, L. Duncan. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet return'd? Malcolm. My liege, They are not yet come back. But I have spoke With one that saw him die: who did report That very frankly he confess'd his treasons; Implor'd your highness’ pardon; and set forth A deep repentance: nothing in his life Became him, like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd, As ’twere a careless trifle. Duncan. There’s no art, To find the mind’s construction in the face: He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust. O worthiest cousin! Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus, R. The sin of my ingratitude even now Was heavy on me: thou art so far before, That swiftest wing of recompense is slow To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserv'd, That the proportion both of thanks and payment Might have been mine! only I have left to say, More is thy due than more than all can pay. Macbeth. The service and the loyalty I owe In doing it pays itself. Your Highness’ part Is to receive our duties; and our duties Are to your throne and state, children, and servants, Which do but what they should, by doing everything Safe toward your love and honour. Duncan. Welcome hither. I have begun to plant thee, and will labour To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, That hast no less deserv'd nor must be known No less to have done so, let me enfold thee, And hold thee to my heart. Banquo. There, if I grow, The harvest is your own. Duncan. My plenteous joys, Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know We will establish our estate upon Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter, The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must Not, unaccompanied, invest him only, But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine On all deservers. From hence to Inverness, And bind us further to you. Macbeth. The rest is labour, which is not used for you: I’ll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful The hearing of my wife with your approach; So, humbly take my leave. Duncan. My worthy Cawdor! Macbeth. The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step On which I must fall down or else o’er-leap, (aside) For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires! Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand! yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. Exit, R. Duncan. True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant; And in his commendations I am fed; It is a banquet to me. Let us after him, Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome: It is a peerless kinsman. Exeunt, R.
Scene V. — Inverness. A Room in Macbeth's Castle. Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter, R. Lady M.

"They met me in the day of success; and I have learned by the perfectest report they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it came missives from the King, who all-hailed me “Thane of Cawdor,” by which title, before, these weïrd sisters saluted me and referred me to the coming on of time with “Hail, king that shalt be.” This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness: that thou might’st not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell.

Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promised. — Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness, To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great, Art not without ambition; but without The illness should attend it. What thou would'st highly, That would'st thou holily; would'st not play false And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou’dst have, great Glamis, That which cries, Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do, Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; And chastise with the valor of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal. What is your tidings?
Enter Seyton, L. Seyton. The King comes here tonight. Lady M. Thou'rt mad to say it: Is not thy master with him, who, wer’t so, Would have inform'd for preparation? Messenger. So please you, it is true; our Thane is coming; One of my fellows had the speed of him, Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Than would make up his message. Lady M. Give him tending. He brings great news. The raven himself is hoarse Exit Seyton, L. That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here; And fill me from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse; That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep pace between The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts And take my milk for gall, you murd’ring ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark Mr. Collier's folio substitutes "blankness" for "blankets". To cry “ Hold, hold!” — Great Glamis, worthy Cawdor Enter Macbeth, L. Greater than both by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond This ignorant present, and I feel now The future in the instant. Macbeth. My dearest love, Duncan comes here to-night. Lady M. And when goes hence? Macbeth. To-morrow, — as he purposes. Lady M. O, never Shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my Thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters: — To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it. He that’s coming Must be provided for: and you shall put This night’s great business into my dispatch; Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. Macbeth. We will speak further. Lady M. Only look up clear. To alter favour ever is to fear: Leave all the rest to me. Exeunt, R.
Scene VI. — The same. Before the Castle. March heard. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lenox, Rosse, Angus, and Attendants, R. 1 E. Duncan. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. Banquo. This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven’s breath Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, buttress, Nor coign of vantage, but this bird hath made His pendant bed and procreant cradle. Where they Most breed and haunt, I have observ'd, the air Is delicate. Enter Lady Macbeth, Seyton, and Ladies, from R.U.E. Duncan. See, see! our honoured hostess! The love that follows us, sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you How you shall bid God yield us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble. Lady M. All our service, In every point twice done, and then done double, Were poor and single business, to contend Against those honours deep and broad, wherewith Your majesty loads our house: For those of old, And the late dignities heap'd up to them, We rest your hermits. Duncan. Where’s the Thane of Cawdor? We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose To be his purveyor: but he rides well; And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him To his home before us: Fair and noble hostess, We are your guest tonight. Lady M. Your servants ever Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt To make their audit at your highness’ pleasure, Still to return your own. Duncan. Give me your hand. Conduct me to mine host; we love him highly, And shall continue our graces towards him. By your leave, hostess. March heard. Exeunt, C. U. E.
Scene VII. — A Room in the Castle. Enter Macbeth, R. Macbeth. If it were done, when ’tis done, then ’twere well It were done quickly: if th’ assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, With his surcease, success, that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — We’d jump the life to come. — But, in these cases We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor: This even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips. He’s here in double trust: First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off: And pity, like a naked new-born babe Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubim, hors'd Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself And falls on the other— How now, what news? Enter Lady Macbeth. Lady M. He has almost supped. Why have you left the chamber? Macbeth. Hath he asked for me? Lady M. Know you not, he has? Macbeth. We will proceed no further in this business: He hath honoured me of late; and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon. Lady M. Was the hope drunk Wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time, Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life And live a coward in thine own esteem; Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,” Like the poor cat i’ the adage? Macbeth. Pr'ythee, peace: I dare do all that may become a man? Who dares do more, is none. Lady M. What beast was it then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck; and know How tender ’tis, to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn, as you Have done to this. Macbeth. If we should fail— Lady M. We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking place, And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep (Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journey Soundly invite him), his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince, That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only: When in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lies, as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan? What not put upon His spongy officers; who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell? Macbeth. Bring forth men-children only, For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv'd, When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber, and used their very daggers, That they have done ’t? Lady M. Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar Upon his death? Macbeth. I am settled, and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know. Exeunt, R.
ACT II.
Scene I. — The same. Court within the Castle. Enter Banquo, Fleance, and a Servant, with a torch before them, R. Banquo.

How goes the night, boy?

Fleance. The moon is down; I have not heard the clock. Banquo.

And she goes down at twelve.

Fleance.

I take’t ’tis later, sir.

Banquo. Hold, take my sword. There’s husbandry in heaven; Their candles are all out. — — A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers! Restrain in me the cursed thoughts, that nature Gives way to in repose! Give me my sword. Who’s there? Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch. Macbeth. A friend. Banquo. What, sir, not yet at rest? The King’s a-bed. He hath been in unusual pleasure, and Sent forth great largess to your offices: This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up In measureless content. Macbeth. Being unprepar'd, Our will became the servant to defect, Which else should free have wrought. Banquo. All’s well. I dreamt last night of the three Weïrd Sisters. To you they have show'd some truth. Macbeth. I think not of them. Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, Would spend it in some words upon that business, If you would grant the time. Banquo. At your kind’st leisure. Macbeth. If you shall cleave to my consent, — when ’tis, It shall make honour for you. Banquo. So I lose none In seeking to augment it, but still keep My bosom franchis'd and allegiance clear, I shall be counsel'd. Macbeth. Good repose the while. Banquo. Thanks, sir; the like to you. Exit Servant, Banquo and Fleance, L. U. E. Macbeth. Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. Exit Servant, L. Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee: — I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling, as to sight? Or art thou but A dagger of the mind; a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshal’st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o’ the other senses, Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still; And, on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood, Which was not so before. There’s no such thing: It is the bloody business, which informs Thus to mine eyes. Now o’er the one half world Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate’s off’rings; and wither'd murder, Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl’s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, "With Tarquin’s ravishing strides", towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabouts And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it. (a bell rings) I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. Exit, R.D. Enter Lady Macbeth, L. Lady M. That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold. What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire. Hark!— Peace! It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern’st good-night. He is about it. The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die. Macbeth. (within) Who’s there? what, ho! Lady M. Alack, I am afraid they have awaked, And ’tis not done: — the attempt, and not the deed, Confounds us: — hark! I laid their daggers ready, He could not miss them. Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done ’t. My husband? Enter Macbeth, R. D. Macbeth. I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise? Lady M. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did not you speak? Macbeth. When? Lady M. Now. Macbeth. As I descended? Lady M. Ay. Macbeth. Hark!— Who lies i’ the second chamber? Lady M. Donalbain. Macbeth. This is a sorry sight. (looking on his hands) Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. Macbeth. There’s one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried “murder!” That they did wake each other; I stood and heard them: But they did say their prayers, and addressed them Again to sleep. Lady M. There are two lodged together. Macbeth. One cried “God bless us!” and “Amen” the other; As they had seen me, with these hangman’s hands, Listening their fear, I could not say Amen, When they did say, God bless us. Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. Macbeth. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen? I had most need of blessing, and Amen Stuck in my throat. Lady M. These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad. Macbeth. Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, Chief nourisher in life’s feast; — Lady M. What do you mean? Macbeth. Still it cried “Sleep no more!” to all the house. “Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more.” Lady M. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy Thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brainsickly of things. Go, get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand. Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there: Go, carry them; and smear The sleepy grooms with blood. Macbeth. I’ll go no more: I am afraid to think what I have done; Look on ’t again, I dare not. Lady M. Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers. The sleeping, and the dead, Are but as pictures: ’tis the eye of childhood, That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I’ll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt. Exit, R.D. — pause — knocking at back heard. Macbeth. Whence is that knocking? How is ’t with me, when every noise appalls me? What hands are here ? Ha, they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnardine, Making the green — one red. Re-enter Lady Macbeth, R.D. Lady M. My hands are of your colour, but I shame To wear a heart so white. (knock) I hear a knocking At the south entry: — retire we to our chamber: A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended. — (knocking)Hark! more knocking; Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, And show us to be watchers: — Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts. Macbeth. To know my deed, — ’twere best not know myself. (knock) Wake Duncan with my knocking! Ay, would thou could'st. Exeunt, L. Knocking heard louder, Enter Seyton — he opens the gate, C. Enter Macduff and Lenox, C. gates. Macduff. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed That you do lie so late? Seyton. Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock: Macduff. Is thy master stirring? Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes. Enter Macbeth in his nightgown, L., and Exit Seyton. Lenox. Good-morrow, noble sir. Macbeth. Good-morrow, both. Macduff. Is the king stirring, worthy Thane? Macbeth. Not yet. Macduff. He did command me to call timely on him. I have almost slipp'd the hour. Macbeth. I’ll bring you to him. Macduff. I know this is a joyful trouble to you, But yet, ’tis one. Macbeth. The labor we delight in physics pain. This is the door. Macduff. I’ll make so bold to call, For ’tis my limited service. Exit Macduff, R.D. Lenox. Goes the King From hence to-day? Macbeth. He does: — he did appoint it so. Lenox. The night has been unruly: Where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down : and, as they say, Lamentings heard i’ the air; strange screams of death; And prophecying, with accents terrible, Of dire combustion and confused events, New hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure bird Clamour'd the livelong night: some say the earth Was feverous and did shake. Macbeth. ’Twas a rough night. Lenox. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it. Macduff. (without, R.) O horror! horror! horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee!(entering) Macbeth and Lenox. What’s the matter? Macduff. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord’s anointed temple, and stole thence The life o’ the building. Macbeth. What is ’t you say? The life? Lenox. Mean you his Majesty? Macduff. Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak; See, and then speak yourselves. — Awake, awake! Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox, R.D. Ring the alarm bell: — Murder and treason! Banquo! and Donalbain! Malcolm; awake! Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counterfeit, And look on death itself! up, up, and see The great doom’s image! — Malcolm! Banquo! As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprights To countenance this horror! (alarm bell rings) Enter Lady Macbeth through door, L. 2 E., with Gentlewoiman and two Ladies Lady M. What’s the business? That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? Speak, Speak! Enter Banquo, Fleance, Rosse, Nobles, Officers, and attendants, R. and L., as if hastily roused from sleep. Macduff. O Banquo, Banquo! our royal master’s murder'd. Lady M. Woe, alas! What! in our house? Re-enter Macbeth and Lenox, R. D.. Macbeth. Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant There’s nothing serious in mortality; All is but toys: renown, and grace is dead; The wine of life is drawn; and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of. Enter Malcolm, R. U. E. Malcolm. What is amiss? Macbeth. You are, and do not know it: The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd. Macduff. Your royal father’s murder'd. Malcolm. O, by whom? Lenox. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done ’t. Exit Malcolm, R.D. Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood, So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found Upon their pillows: They star'd and were distracted; no man’s life Was to be trusted with them. Macbeth. O, yet I do repent me of my fury That I did kill them. Macduff. Wherefore did you so? Macbeth. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man; The expedition of my violent love Out-ran the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan His silver skin laced with his golden blood; And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature, For ruin’s wasteful entrance: there, the murderers, Steeped in the colours of their trade, their daggers Unmannerly breech'd with gore. Who could refrain, That had a heart to love, and in that heart Courage. to make ’s love known? Lady M. (pretending to faint) Help me hence, ho! Banquo. Look to the lady! (Lady Macbeth is supported off, L. door) Fears and scruples shake us:0 In the great hand of heav'n I stand; and, thence, Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight Of treasonous malice. Macbeth. And so do I. All. So all. Macbeth. Let’s briefly put on manly readiness And meet i’ the hall together. Macduff. And question this most bloody piece of work To know it further. All. Well contented. Exeunt severally, R. and L.
End of Act the Second
Act III
Scene I. — A Wood on the Skirt of a Heath. Thunder and Lightning. Lamps down. Enter the Three Witches, and a Chorus of Witches. 1st Singing W. Speak, sister, speak—is the deed done ? 2nd Singing W. Long ago, long ago; ‘Above twelve glasses since have ran. 3rd Singing W. Ill deeds are seldom slow, Nor single; following crimes on former wait ; The worst of creatures fastest propagate. 3rd Singing W. Many more murders must this one ensue ; Dread horrors still abound, And every place surround, As if in death were found Propagation too. 2nd Singing W. He shall — 3rd Singing W. He will spill much more blood, And become worse, to make his title good. 1st Singing W. Now let’s dance. 2nd Singing W. Agreed. 3rd Singing W. Agreed.. Chorus. We should rejoice when good kings bleed. 1st Singing W. When cattle die, about we go When lightning and dread thunder Rend stubborn rocks in sunder, And fill the world with wonder, What should we do? 3rd Singing W. Rejoice, we should rejoice. 2nd Singing W. When winds and waves are warring, Earthquakes the mountains tearing, And monarchs die despairing, What should we do? Chorus. Rejoice, we should rejoice. Let’s have a dance upon the heath,— ‘We gain more life by Duncan’s death. 1st Singing W. Sometimes like brindled cats we shew, Having no music but our mew, To which we dance in some old mill, Upon the hopper, stone, or wheel, To some old saw, or bardish rhyme,— Chorus. Where still the mill-clack does keep time. 2nd Singing W. Sometimes about a hollow tree, Around, around, around dance we; hither the chirping cricket comes, And beetles singing drowsy hums; Sometimes we dance o'er ferns or furze, To howles of wolves, or barks of curs; And when with none of these we meet— Chorus. We dance to the echoes of our feet. 3rd Singing W. At the night raven’s dismal voice, When others tremble, we rejoice. Chorus. And nimbly, nimbly, dance we still. To th’ echoes from a hollow hill. Exeunt different ways.
Scene II. — Exterior of Macbeth's Castle Enter Macduff, R., Rosse, L. Rosse. How goes the world, sir, now? Macduff. Why see you not? Rosse. Is’t known, who did this more than bloody deed? Macduff. Those that Macbeth hath slain. Rosse. Alas, the day! What good could they pretend? Macduff. They were suborn'd. Malcolm and Donalbain, the king’s two sons, Are stol’n away and fled; which puts upon them Suspicion of the deed. Rosse. ’Gainst nature still: Thriftless ambition, that will raven up Thine own lives’ means! — Then ’tis most like, The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. Macduff. He is already nam'd and gone to Scone, To be invested. Rosse. Where is Duncan’s body? Macduff. Carried to Colmes-kill; The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, And guardian of their bones. Rosse. Will you to Scone? Macduff. No, cousin, I’ll to Fife. (crosses, L.) Rosse. Well, I will thither. Macduff. Well, may you see things well done there; — adieu, Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! All exit.
Scene III. — Fores. A Room in the Palace. Enter Banquo and Fleance, R. Banquo. Thou hast it now— King, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the weïrd women promis'd, and, I fear, Thou playd’st most foully for ’t: yet it was said, It should not stand in thy posterity; But that myself should be the root, and father Of many kings. If there come truth from them, (As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine,) Why, by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my oracles as well, And set me up in hope? But hush; no more. Enter Macbeth as King; Lenox, Seyton, Lords, and Attendants, L. Macbeth. Here’s our chief guest. If he had been forgotten, It had been as a gap in our great feast, And all-thing unbecoming. To-night we hold a solemn supper, sir, And I’ll request your presence. Banquo. Lay your high Command upon me; to the which, my duties Are with a most indissoluble tie Forever knit. Macbeth. Ride you this afternoon? Banquo. Ay, my good lord. Macbeth. We should have else desir'd your good advice (Which still hath been both grave and prosperous,) In this day’s council, but we’ll take to-morrow. Is ’t far you ride? Banquo. As far, my lord, as will fill up the time ’Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better, I must become a borrower of the night, For a dark hour, or twain. Macbeth. Fail not our feast. Banquo. My lord, I will not. (crosses to L.) Macbeth. We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'd In England, and in Ireland; not confessing Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers With strange invention: But of that to-morrow, When, therewithal, we shall have cause of state, Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: Adieu, Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? Banquo. Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon us. Macbeth. I wish your horses swift, and sure of foot; And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell. — — Exit Banquo and Fleance, L. Let every man be master of his time Till seven at night; to make society The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself Till suppertime alone; while then, God be with you. Exeunt Lords, &c., L. Sirrah, a word: Attend those men our pleasure? Seyton. They are, my lord, without the palace gate. Macbeth. Bring them before us. Exit Seyton, L.. To be thus, is nothing, But to be safely thus: — Our fears in Banquo Stick deep. He chid the sisters, When first they put the name of king upon me, And bade them speak to him; then, prophet-like, They hailed him father to a line of kings: Upon my head they plac'd a fruitless crown, And put a barren sceptre in my grip, Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand, No son of mine succeeding. If it be so, For Banquo’s issue have I fil'd my mind; For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd, And mine eternal jewel Given to the common enemy of man, To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings! Rather than so, come, fate into the list, And champion me to the utterance!— Who’s there? Re-enter Seyton with Two Murderers, L. Now to the door, and stay there till we call. Exit Seyton, R. Was it not yesterday we spoke together? 1st Murderer. It was, so please your Highness. Macbeth. Well then, now Have you consider'd of my speeches? Do you find Your patience so predominant in your nature, That you can let this go? Are you so gospell'd To pray for this good man, and for his issue, Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave, And beggar'd yours forever? 2nd Murderer. I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Hath so incens'd that I am reckless what I do, to spite the world. 1st Murderer. And I another, So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it or be rid on’t. Macbeth. Both of you Know, Banquo was your enemy. 2nd Murderer. True, my lord. Macbeth. So is he mine, and in such bloody distance That every minute of his being thrusts Against my near’st of life. And though I could With barefaced power sweep him from my sight And bid my will avouch it; yet I must not, For sundry weighty reasons. 2nd Murderer. We shall, my lord, Perform what you command us. 1st Murderer. Though our lives— Macbeth. Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most I will advise you where to plant yourselves. Acquaint you with the perfect spy o’ the time, The moment on’t, for’t must be done tonight And something from the palace; always thought, That I require a clearness. And with him (To leave no rubs, nor botches, in the work), Fleance, his son, that keeps him company, Whose absence is no less material to me Than is his father’s, must embrace the fate Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart; I’ll come to you anon. 2nd Murderer. We are resolv'd, my lord. Macbeth. I’ll call upon you straight. Abide within. Exeunt Murderers, L. It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul’s flight, If it find heaven, must find it out tonight. Exit, L.
Scene IV .- A Room in the Palace. Enter Lady Macbeth and Seyton, R. Lady M. Is Banquo gone from court? Seyton. Ay, madam, but returns again to-night. Lady M. Say to the king, I would attend his leisure For a few words. Seyton. Madam, I will. Exit, L. Lady M. Naught’s had, all’s spent, Where our desire is got without content: ’Tis safer to be that which we destroy, Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy. Enter Macbeth, L. How now, my lord? why do you keep alone, Of sorriest fancies your companions making, Using those thoughts, which should indeed have died With them they think on? Things without remedy Should be without regard: what’s done is done. Macbeth. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it. She’ll close and be herself; whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams, That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstacy. Duncan is in his grave; After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further. Lady M. Come on; Gentle my lord, sleek o’er your rugged looks, Be bright and jovial 'mong your guests to-night. Macbeth. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know’st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. Lady M. But in them nature’s copy’s not eterne. Macbeth. There’s comfort yet; they are assailable. Then be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flown His cloistered flight; ere, to black Hecate’s summons The shard-born beetle, with his drowsy hums, Hath rung night’s yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note. Lady M. What’s to be done? Macbeth. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day And with thy bloody and invisible hand, Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood: Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; Whiles night’s black agents to their prey do rouse.— Thou marvell’st at my words: but hold thee still; Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by ill: So pr'ythee, go with me. Exeunt, L.
Scene V. — An open Place leading to the Palace. Enter Three Murderers, L. 1st Murderer. But who did bid thee join with us? 3rd Murderer. Macbeth. 2nd Murderer. He needs not our mistrust; since he delivers Our offices, and what we have to do To the direction just. 1st Murderer. Then stand with us.— The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day. Now spurs the lated traveler apace, To gain the timely inn; and near approaches The subject of our watch. 3rd Murderer. Hark, I hear horses. Banquo. (within) Give us a light there, ho! 2nd Murderer. Then it is he; the rest That are within the note of expectation Already are i’ the court. 1st Murderer. His horses go about. 3rd Murderer. Almost a mile: but he does usually So all men do, from hence to th’ palace gate Make it their walk. 2nd Murderer. A light, light! 3rd Murderer. ’Tis he. 1st Murderer. Stand to ’t. Exeunt, L. Enter Banquo and Fleance, with a lighted Torch, R. Banquo. It will rain to-night. 1st Murderer. (without) Let it come down! (assaults Banquo) Banquo. O slave! (dies) Re-enter the Murderers, L. 3rd Murderer. Who did strike out the light? 1st Murderer. Was ’t not the way? 3rd Murderer.

There’s but one down; the son is fled.

2nd Murderer.

We have lost best half of our affair.

1st Murderer. Well, let’s away and say how much is done. Exeunt, L.
Scene VI. — A Room of State in the Palace. A Banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants, &c., &c. discovered, R. and L. Bards, with harps, in gallery, C., at back. Macbeth. You know your own degrees; sit down: at first And last, the hearty welcome. Lords. Thanks to your majesty. Macbeth. Ourself will mingle with society, Our hostess keeps her state; but, in best time, We will require her welcome. Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends; For my heart speaks they are welcome. Enter 1st Murderer, R. 1 E. Macbeth. See, they encounter thee with their hearts’ thanks : — Be large in mirth; anon, we’ll drink a measure The table round. There’s blood upon thy face. Murderer. ’Tis Banquo’s then. Macbeth. Is he dispatch'd? Murderer. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him. Macbeth. Thou art the best o’ the cut-throats. Yet he’s good That did the like for Fleance. Murderer. Most royal sir, Fleance is ’scap'd. Macbeth. Then comes my fit again. I had else been perfect; Whole as the marble, founded as the rock; As broad, and general, as the casing air: But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo’s safe? Murderer. Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head; The least a death to nature. Macbeth. Thanks for that: — There the grown serpent lies; the worm, that’s fled, Hath nature that in time will venom breed No teeth for the present. — Get thee gone; to-morrow We’ll hear ourselves again. Exit Murderer, R. 1 E. Lady M. My royal lord. You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold That is not often vouch'd, while ’tis a-making, ’Tis given with welcome; to feed, were best at home; From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony; Meeting were bare without it. Macbeth. Sweet remembrancer!— Now, good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both! Lenox. May it please your Highness sit? (the Ghost of Banquo rises at back, C.) Macbeth. Here had we now our country’s honour roofed, Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present; Who may I rather challenge for unkindness Than pity for mischance. Rosse. His absence, sir, Lays blame upon his promise. Please your highness To grace us with your royal company? Macbeth. The table’s full. Lenox. Here's a place reserved, sir. Macbeth. Where? Lenox. Here, my good lord. What is ’t that moves your highness? Macbeth. Which of you have done this? Lords. What, my good lord? Macbeth. Thou canst not say, I did it: never shake Thy gory locks at me. Rosse. Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well. Lady M. Sit, worthy friends: — my lord is often thus And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat; The fit is momentary; If much you note him You shall offend him and extend his passion; Feed, and regard him not. (coming to Macbeth, R.) Are you a man? Macbeth. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appal the devil. Lady M. O, proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear: This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said, Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts, (Impostors to true fear,) would well become A woman’s story, at a winter’s fire, Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces? When all’s done, You look but on a stool. Macbeth. Pr'ythee, see there. Behold, look! lo, how say you? Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.— If charnel houses, and our graves, must send Those that we bury back, our monuments Shall be the maws of kites. Ghost sinks. Lady M. What, quite unmanned in folly? Macbeth. If I stand here, I saw him. Lady M. Fie, for shame! (returning to her seat) Macbeth. Blood hath been shed ere now, i’ the olden time, Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd Too terrible for the ear: the times have been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end; but now, they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools: This is more strange Than such a murder is. Lady M. My worthy lord, Your noble friends do lack you. Macbeth. I do forget.— Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends. I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, love and health to all; Then I’ll sit down.— Give me some wine. Fill full—— I drink to the general joy of the whole table. And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss; Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst, And all to all. Ghost appears, R. Macbeth. Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with. Lady M. Think of this, good peers, But as a thing of custom: ’tis no other; Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. Macbeth. What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble: Or be alive again, And dare me to the desert with thy sword; If trembling I inhibit, then protest me The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! Ghost disappears. Unreal mockery, hence! — Why, so; — being gone, I am a man again.— Pray you sit still. Lady M. You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting, With most admired disorder. Macbeth. Can such things be And overcome us like a summer’s cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine is blanch'd with fear. Rosse. What sights, my lord? Lady M. I pray you, speak not. He grows worse and worse. Question enrages him: at once, good night: — Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once. Lady M. A kind good night to all. Exeunt Lords and Attendants, R. and L. Macbeth. It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood: Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak; Augurs, and understood relations, have By maggot-pies and choughs, and rooks, brought forth The secret’st man of blood.— What is the night? Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which is which. Macbeth. How say’st thou that ? — Macduff denies his person at our great bidding! Lady M. Did you send to him, sir? Macbeth. I hear it by the way; but I will send: There’s not a one of them but in his house I keep a servant fee’d. I will to-morrow, (Betimes I will) unto the weïrd sisters: More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know By the worst means, the worst: for mine own good, All causes shall give way. I am in blood Stept in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o’er. Lady M. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. Macbeth. Come, we’ll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse Is the initiate fear that wants hard use: — We are yet but young in deed. Exeunt, L.
Scene VII. — The Heath. Thunder. Enter Hecate, meeting the three Witches. 1st. Witch. Why, how now, Hecate? You look angerly. Hecate. Have I not reason, beldams, as you are? Saucy and overbold, how did you dare To trade and traffic with Macbeth In riddles and affairs of death; And I, the mistress of your charms, The close contriver of all harms, Was never call'd to bear my part Or show the glory of our art? But make amends now. Get you gone, And at the pit of Acheron Meet me i’ the morning. Thither he Will come to know his destiny. Your vessels and your spells provide, Your charms, and everything beside: I am for the air; this night I’ll spend Unto a dismal-fatal end. Great business must be wrought ere noon: Upon the corner of the moon There hangs a vaporous drop profound; I’ll catch it ere it come to ground: And that, distilled by magic slights, Shall raise such artificial sprites, As by the strength of their illusion Shall draw him on to his confusion: 1st Spirit (within) Hecate, Hecate, Hecate! O, come away, Hecate. Hark! I am call'd; — my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud, and waits for me. 2nd Spirit (enters.) Hecate, Hecate, Hecate! O, come away, Hecate. I come,I come, with all the speed I may. Where's Stadlin ? 3rd Spirit (enters) Here; Hecate. Where’s Puckle? 4th Spirit (enters) Here; 5th Spirit (enters) And Hoppo too, and Hellwaine too ; 5th Spirit (enters) We want but you, wo want but you. Enter the Chorus of Witches, R. and L. Chorus. Come away, make up the count. Hecate. With new-fall’n dew, From church-yard yew, I will but ‘noint, and then I mount, (Hecate places herself in her Chair) Now I go, and now I fly. Malkin, my sweet spirit, and I, O, What a dainty pleasure’s this, To sail in the air, While the moon shines fair, To sing, to toy, to dance, and kiss ! Over woods, high rocks, and mountains, Over seas, and misty fountains, Over steeples, towers, and turrets, We fly by night 'mongst troops of spirits. Chorus. We fly by night 'mongst troops of spirits. Hecate ascends into the air — the Witches exeunt various ways.
End of Act III
ACT IV.
Scene I — A dark Cave. In the middle, a cauldron boiling Thunder. The Three Witches discovered. 1st. Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed. 2nd. Witch. Thrice, and once the hedge-pig whin'd. 3rd. Witch. Harper cries “ ’Tis time, ’tis time!” All. Round about the cauldron go; In the poison'd entrails throw. 1st. Witch. Toad, that under coldest stone Days and nights hast thirty-one Swelter'd venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot! All. (going round the cauldron) Double, double toil and trouble; Fire, burn; and cauldron bubble. 2nd. Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake In the cauldron boil and bake: Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg, owlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. All. (going round) Double, double toil and trouble; Fire, burn; and cauldron bubble. 3rd. Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witch’s mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravined salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digg'd i’ the dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat and slips of yew, Silver'd in the moon’s eclipse; Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips; Finger of birth-strangled babe, Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron (going round) For the ingredients of our cauldron. All. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire, burn; and cauldron bubble. 2nd. Witch. Cool it with a baboon’s blood. Then the charm is firm and good. Hecate appears at back of Scene. Chorus of witches enter, R. and L. Hecate. O, well done! I commend your pains, And everyone shall share i’ the gains. And now about the cauldron sing, Like elves and fairies in a ring, Enchanting all that you put in. Black spirits and white, Red Spirits and Gray, Mingle, mingle, mingle, You that mingle, may. (invisible) Chorus. Around, around, around, about, about; An ill come running in, all good keep out! Singing W. (going to cauldron) Here's the blood of a bat. Hecate. Put in that — put in that. 2nd Singing W. (going to cauldron) Here's Libbard's brain. Hecate. Put in a grain. 3rd Singing W. (going to cauldron) Here's juice of a toad, and oil of adder; Those will make the charm grow madder. Chorus. Put in all these; 'twill raise a pois'nous stench! Hecate. Hold — here's three ounces of a red-hair'd wench. Chorus. Around, around, around, about, about; All ill come running in, all good keep out! Hecate. By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. (knocking heard) Open, locks, whoever knocks. (disappears) Exeunt all the Witches, except the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. Enter Macbeth from L.U.E. Macbeth. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? What is ’t you do? All. A deed without a name. Macbeth. I conjure you by that which you profess ( Howe’er you come to know it), answer me, To what I ask you. 1st. Witch. Speak. 2nd. Witch. Demand. 3rd. Witch. We’ll answer. 1st. Witch. Say if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths Or from our masters’? Macbeth. Call ’em. Let me see ’em. 1st. Witch. Pour in sow’s blood that hath eaten Her nine farrow; grease, that’s sweaten From the murderer's gibbet, throw Into the flame. All. Come high, or low; Thyself, and office, deftly show. Thunder. An Apparition of an armed Head rises. Macbeth. Tell me, thou unknown power— 1st. Witch. He knows thy thought. Hear his speech but say thou nought. Apparition. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware Macduff! Beware the Thane of Fife. — Dismiss me; — Enough. (descends) Macbeth. Whate’er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks. Thou hast harped my fear aright:— But one word more— 1st. Witch. He will not be commanded: Here’s another More potent than the first. Thunder. An Apparition of a bloody Child rises. Apparition. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!— Macbeth. Had I three ears, I’d hear thee. Apparition. Be bloody, bold, And resolute : laugh to scorn the power of man, For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth. (descends) Macbeth. Then live, Macduff; what need I fear of thee? But yet I’ll make assurance double sure And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live; That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lies, And sleep in spite of thunder. — What is this, Thunder. An Apparition of a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand, rises. That rises like the issue of a king And wears upon his baby brow the round And top of sovereignty? All. Listen, but speak not. Apparition. Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill Shall come against him. descends. Macbeth. That will never be. Who can impress the forest; bid the tree Unfix his earthbound root? Sweet bodements! good Yet my heart Throbs to know one thing; tell me (if your art Can tell so much), shall Banquo’s issue ever Reign in this kingdom? All. Seek to know no more. Macbeth. I will be satisfied: deny me this, And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know! Why sinks that cauldron? And what noise is this? Unearthly Music heard) 1st. Witch. Show. 2nd. Witch. Show. 3rd. Witch. Show. All. Show his eyes and grieve his heart. Come like shadows; so depart. Eight kings appear, and pass over the Stage in order; the last with a Glass in his hand - Banquo following. Macbeth. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down! Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs. And thy hair, Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. A third is like the former.— Filthy hags: Why do you show me this?— A fourth? Start, eyes! What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom? Another yet? A seventh? I’ll see no more. And yet the eighth appears who bears a glass Which shows me many more/ Horrible sight! Ay, now, I see, ’tis true; For the blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me, And points at them for his. What, is this so? The Witches vanish, R. Music ceases. Macbeth. Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour Stand aye accursed in the calendar!— Come in, without there. Enter Lenox, from L.U.E. Lenox. What’s your Grace’s will? Macbeth. Saw you the weïrd sisters? Lenox. No, my lord. Macbeth. Came they not by you? Lenox. No, indeed, my lord. Macbeth. Infected be the air whereon they ride, And damn'd, all those that trust them! I did hear The galloping of horse. Who was ’t came by? Lenox. ’Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word Macduff is fled to England. Macbeth. Fled to England? Lenox. Ay, my good lord. Macbeth. , aside Time, thou anticipat’st my dread exploits. The flighty purpose never is o’ertook Unless the deed go with it. From this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done: The castle of Macduff I will surprise, Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o’ the sword His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace his line. No boasting like a fool; This deed I’ll do before this purpose cool. Where are these gentlemen? Exeunt, L.U.E.
Scene II. England. A Room in the King's Palace. Enter Malcolm and Macduff, R. Malcolm. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty. Macduff. Let us rather Hold fast the mortal sword; and, like good men, Bestride our downfall’n birthdom. Each new morn, New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out Like syllable of dolour. Malcolm. What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance. This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest: you have lov'd him well: He hath not touched you yet. Macduff. I am not treacherous. Malcolm. But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge. Macduff. I have lost my hopes. Malcolm. Perchance, even there, where I did find my doubts. Why in that rawness left you wife, and child, (Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,) Without leave-taking? — I pray you, Let not my jealousies be your dishonours, But mine own safeties: — You may be rightly just, Whatever I shall think. Macduff. Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dares not check thee! Fare thee well, lord: I would not be the villain that thou think’st For the whole space that’s in the tyrant’s grasp, And the rich East to boot. Malcolm. Be not offended. I speak not as in absolute fear of you. I think our country sinks beneath the yoke; It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds. I think, withal, There would be hands uplifted in my right; And here from gracious England, have I offer Of goodly thousands. But, for all this, When I shall tread upon the tyrant’s head Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country Shall have more vices than it had before, More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever, By him that shall succeed. Macduff. What should he be? Malcolm. It is myself I mean: in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted, That, when they shall be opened, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compared With my confineless harms. Macduff. Not in the legions Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd In evils to top Macbeth. Malcolm. I grant him bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful: But there’s no bottom, none, In my voluptuousness, and my desire Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. Macduff. O Scotland! Scotland! Malcolm. If such a one be fit to govern, speak: Macduff. Fit to govern! No, not to live.— O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptered, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accurs'd And does blaspheme his breed?— Thy royal father Was a most sainted king. The queen that bore thee, Oft’ner upon her knees than on her feet, Died every day she lived. Fare thee well. These evils thou repeat’st upon thyself Hath banished me from Scotland.— O, my breast, Thy hope ends here! Malcolm. Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil;d my thoughts To thy good truth and honor. Devilish Macbeth By many of these trains hath sought to win me Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me From over-credulous haste: but God above Deal between thee and me! for even now I put myself to thy direction, and Unspeak mine own detraction; here abjure The taints and blames I laid upon myself, For strangers to my nature. What I am truly, Is thine, and my poor country’s, to command: Whither indeed, before thy here-approach, Old Siward with ten thousand warlike men, All ready at a point, was setting forth: Now we’ll together; And the chance of goodness, Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent? Macduff. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once ’Tis hard to reconcile. Enter Rosse, L. Macduff. See, who comes here? Malcolm. My countryman, but yet I know him not. Macduff. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. Malcolm. I know him now.— Good heav'n, betimes remove The means that makes us strangers! Rosse. Sir, amen. Macduff. Stands Scotland where it did? Rosse. Alas, poor country; Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot Be called our mother, but our grave: where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the air, Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstasy; the dead man’s knell Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men’s lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying or ere they sicken. Macduff. O, relation, Too nice, and yet too true! Malcolm. What is the newest grief? Rosse. That of an hour’s age doth hiss the speaker; Each minute teems a new one. Macduff. How does my wife? Rosse. Why, well. Macduff. And all my children? Rosse. Well too. Macduff. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did leave ’em. Macduff. Be not a niggard of your speech. How goes it? Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour Of many worthy fellows that were out; Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, For that I saw the tyrant’s power a-foot. Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, make our women fight, To doff their dire distresses. Malcolm. Be it their comfort We are coming thither: gracious England hath Lent us good Siward, and ten thousand men; An older and a better soldier, none That Christendom gives out. Rosse. Would I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words, That would be howl'd out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch them. Macduff. What concern they ? The general cause? or is it a fee-grief Due to some single breast? Rosse. No mind, that’s honest, But in it shares some woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone. Macduff. If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound, That ever yet they heard. Macduff. Humph! I guess at it. Rosse. Your castle is surpris'd; your wife and babes, Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner Were, on the quarry of these murdered deer, To add the death of you. Malcolm. Merciful heaven!— What, man! ne’er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak, Whispers the o’er-fraught heart, and bids it break. Macduff. My children too? Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all That could be found. Macduff. And I must be from thence? My wife kill'd too? Rosse. I have said. Malcolm. Be comforted. Let’s make us med’cines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. Macduff. He has no children. — All my pretty ones? Did you say, all? — O hell-kite! — All? What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, At one fell swoop? Malcolm. Dispute it like a man. Macduff. I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but remember such things were That were most precious to me. — Did heaven look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls. "Heaven rest them now!" Malcolm. Be this the whetstone of your sword. Let grief Convert to anger. Blunt not the heart, enrage it. Macduff. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue! — But, gentle heaven, Cut short all intermission; front to front Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Within my sword’s length set him; if he ’scape, Heaven forgive him too! They exit.
End of Act IV.
ACT V.
Scene I.- Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Gentlewoman, L. Doctor.

I have two nights watched with you but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?

Gentlewoman.

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

Doctor.

What at any time have you heard her say?

Gentlewoman.

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

Doctor.

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

Gentlewoman.

Neither to you nor anyone, having no witness to confirm my speech. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.

(they go up to the back)
Enter Lady Macbeth with a taper from vaultred passage, R.C. Doctor.

How came she by that light?

Gentlewoman.

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

Doctor.

You see her eyes are open.

Gentlewoman.

Ay, but their sense is shut.

Doctor.

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

Gentlewoman.

It is an accustomed action with her to seem thus washing her hands; I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.

Lady M.

Yet here’s a spot.

Doctor.

Hark, she speaks.

Lady M.

Out, damned spot! out, I say! — One; Two; Why then, ’tis time to do ’t: — Hell is murky! Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier and afear'd? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? — Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

Doctor.

Do you mark that?

Lady M.

The Thane of Fife had a wife; Where is she now? — What, will these hands ne’er be clean? — No more of that, my lord, no more o’ that: you mar all with this starting.

Doctor.

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

Gentlewoman.

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

Lady M.

Here’s the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! Oh! Oh!

Doctor.

What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.

Gentlewoman.

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

Lady M.

Wash your hands, ut on your nightgown; look not so pale: — I tell you yet again, Banquo’s buried; he cannot come out of his grave.

Doctor.

Even so!

Lady M.

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

Exit Lady Macbeth, R.C. Doctor.

(after a pause)Will she now go to bed?

Gentlewoman.

Directly.

Doctor. More needs she the divine, than the physician. Look after her; Remove from her the means of all annoyance And still keep eyes upon her: Heaven forgive us all. Exeunt Gentlewoman, R.C., Doctor, L.
Scene II. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Flourish. Enter Macbeth, Lords, and Attendants, R. Macbeth. Bring me no more reports; Let them fly all; Till Birnam Wood remove to Dunsinane, I cannot taint with fear. What’s the boy Malcolm? Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know All mortal consequences have pronounc'd me thus: “Fear not, Macbeth. No man that’s born of woman Shall e’er have power upon thee.” — Then fly, false thanes, And mingle with the English epicures: The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear. Enter an Officer, R. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon! Where gott’st thou that goose-look? Officer. There is ten thousand— Macbeth. Geese, villain? Officer. Soldiers, sir. Macbeth. Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch? Death of thy soul! Those linen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face? Officer. The English force, so please you. Macbeth. Take thy face hence. Exit Officer, R. Seyton!— I am sick at heart When I behold— Seyton, I say!— This push Will chair me ever, or disseat me now. I have liv'd long enough. My May of life Is fall’n into the sear, the yellow leaf: And that which should accompany old age, As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have, but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not.— Seyton! Enter Seyton R. Seyton. What’s your gracious pleasure? Macbeth. What news more? Seyton. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported. Macbeth. I’ll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd. Give me my armor. Enter the Doctor, R. Seyton. ’Tis not needed yet. Macbeth. I’ll put it on. Send out more horses, skirr the country round; Hang those that talk of fear. How does your patient, doctor? Doctor. L.C. Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies That keep her from her rest. Macbeth. Cure her of that. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; Raze out the written troubles of the brain; And with some sweet oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous grief, Mr. Collier's folio substitutes grief for "stuff" this is probably the true reading. Which weighs upon the heart? Doctor. Therein the patient Must minister to himself. Macbeth. Throw physic to the dogs. I’ll none of it.— Give me my staff. Seyton, send out.— Doctor, the thanes fly from me.— If thou couldst, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud again.— What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug Would scour these English hence? Hear’st thou of them? Doctor. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Makes us hear something. Macbeth. Bring it after me.— I will not be afraid of death and bane, Till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane. Flourish. Exeunt, R.
Scene III. — Country near Dunsinane: A Wood in view. March. Enter Malcolm, Old Siward and his Son, Macduff, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, Lenox, Rosse, and Soldiers, R. 1 E. Malcolm. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand, That chambers will be safe. Macduff. We doubt it nothing. Siward. What wood is this before us? Macduff. The Wood of Birnam. Malcolm. Let every soldier hew him down a bough And bear ’t before him; thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host and make discovery Err in report of us. Lenox. It shall be done. Siward. We learn no other but the confident tyrant Keeps still in Dunsinane and will endure Our setting down before ’t. Macduff. ’Tis his main hope; For, where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the revolt, And none serve with him but constrained things Whose hearts are absent too. Rosse. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies: Some say, he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule Siward. Let our just censures Attend the true event, and put we on Industrious soldiership. Macduff. The time approaches, That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have, and what we owe. Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate; But certain issue strokes must arbitrate: Towards which, advance the war. March. Exeunt, R.
Scene IV. — Dunsinane. Before the Castle. Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers, L. 2 E. Macbeth. Hang out our banners on the outward walls. The cry is still, “They come.” Our castle’s strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie, Till famine, and the ague, eat them up. Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home. What is that noise? (a cry within of women) Seyton. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Exit, R. Macbeth. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: The time has been my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek, and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir As life were in ’t: I have supped full with horrors. Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me. — Re-enter Seyton, R. Wherefore was that cry? Seyton. The queen, my lord, is dead. Macbeth. She should have died hereafter. There would have been a time for such a word — To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. Enter an Officer, R. Thou com’st to use thy tongue: thy story quickly. Officer. Gracious my lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do it. Macbeth. Well, say, sir. Officer. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I looked toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The Wood began to move. Macbeth. (striking him) Liar and slave! Officer. Let me endure your wrath, if ’t be not so. Within this three mile may you see it coming. I say, a moving grove. Macbeth. If thou speak’st false, Upon the next tree shall thou hang alive Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much.— Exit Officer, R. I pull in resolution and begin To doubt th’ equivocation of the fiend, That lies like truth. “Fear not till Birnam Wood Do come to Dunsinane,” and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane.— Arm, arm, and out!— Exit an Officer, R. If this which he avouches does appear, There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here. I ’gin to be a-weary of the sun. And wish th’ estate o’ the world were now undone. Ring the alarum bell:— Blow wind! come, wrack! At least we’ll die with harness on our back. Bell Rings. — Flourish. — Exeunt, R.
Scene V.- The same. A plain before the Castle Enter Malcolm, Old Siward, Macduff, &c., L.; their Army discovered with boughs raised. Malcolm. (without) Now near enough; your leafy screens throw down And show like those you are.— (trumpet heard; the boughs are thrown down and the Army discovered)You, worthy uncle, Shall with my cousin, your right noble son, Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we Shall take upon us what else remains to do, According to our order. Siward. Do we but find the tyrant’s power to-night, Let us be beaten if we cannot fight. Macduff. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. Trumpets. — March and exeunt, R.
Scene VI Enter Macbeth, R. Macbeth. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What’s he That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none. Alarums. Enter Macduff, R. Macduff. That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face: If thou be'est slain, and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children’s ghosts will haunt me still. I cannot strike at wretched kernes, whose arms Are hired to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge I sheathe again undeeded. (alarums) There thou shouldst be; By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited: Let me find him, Fortune, And more I beg not. Exit, L. Alarum. Enter Macbeth at back L. Macbeth. Why should I play the Roman fool and die On mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them. Enter Macduff, L. Macduff. Turn, hell-hound, turn! Macbeth. Of all men else I have avoided thee: But get thee back. My soul is too much charg'd With blood of thine already. Macduff. I have no words; My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out! (alarms — they fight) Fight. Alarum. Macbeth. Thou losest labour. As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed. Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life, which must not yield To one of woman born. Macduff. Despair thy charm, And let the angel whom thou still hast serv'd Tell thee Macduff was from his mother’s womb Untimely ripp'd. Macbeth. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow'd my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope. I’ll not fight with thee. Macduff. Then yield thee, coward, And live to be the show and gaze o’ th’ time. We’ll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted upon a pole, and underwrit “Here may you see the tyrant.” Macbeth. I'll not yield To kiss the ground before young Malcolm’s feet And to be baited with the rabble’s curse. Though Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born, Yet I will try the last. Lay on, Macduff; And damn'd be he that first cries “Hold, enough.” Alarums. Shouts. Fight. Macbeth is slain. Enter Malcolm, Old Siward, Rosse, Lenox, Angus, Cathness, Menteath , and Soldiers, R. Macduff. Hail, King! for so thou art. I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom’s pearls, Whose voices I desire aloud with mine. Hail, King of Scotland! hail! (Malcolm is raised on a shield in C. Shouts. Flourish. Curtain
GLOSSARY Of Words, either obsolete or varying from their ordinary signification. Aroint, avaunt. Blood-boltered, daubed with blood Card, chart. Coigne, corner. Crack, dissolution, end. Deftly, with adroitness. Dudgeon, the handle. Gallowglasses, weary armed foot soldiers. Intreachant, that which cannot be cut. Hermits, beadsmen, those who say prayers for their maintaining patrons, Kernes, light armed foot soldiers Limbeck, alembic, a vessel used in distilling. Paddock, a toad. Ravin, ravenously. Rawness, tender, more subject to hurt, Ronyon, a scurvy woman, Sagg, to sink. Shard-borne, borne by shards or scaly wings Sleave, the ravelled knotty part of the silk.