There would be hands uplifted in my right;
And here, from gracious England, have I offer
Of goodly thousands: but, for all this,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before;
More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed.

Macd. What should he be?

Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted, That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd With my confineless harms.

Macd. Not in the legions

Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd
In evils, to top Macbeth.

Mal. I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin
That has a name. But there's no bottom, none,
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up
The cistern of my lust; and my desire
All continent impediments would o'erbear,
That did oppose my will: better Macbeth,
Than such a one to reign.

Mucd. Boundless intemperance

Macd. O Scotland! Scotland!

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

No, not to live.-O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred,
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,
Have banish'd me from Scotland.—O, my breast.
Thy hope ends here!

Mal. Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul

Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
By many of these trains hath sought to win me
Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous 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. I am yet
Unknown to woman; never was forsworn;
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own;
At no time broke my faith; would not betray
The devil to his fellow; and delight
No less in truth, than life: my irst false speaking
Was this upon myself. 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 qua rel! Why are you silent?
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at
once,
'Tis hard to reconcile.

Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeding lust: and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings. Yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foysons to fill up your will,
Of your mere own: all these are portable,
With other graces weigh'd.

Mal. But I have none: the king-becoming
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, [graces,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them; but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.

Enter a Doctor. Mal. Well; more anon.— -Comes the king forth. I pray you? [souls, Doct. Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched That stay his cure; their malady convinces The great assay of art; but, at his touch, Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, They presently amend.

Mal. I thank you, doctor.

[exit Doct. Macd. What is the disease he means? Mal. 'Tis call'd the evil:

A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which often, since my here-remain in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures;
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves

The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy;

Gent. 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.

Doct. Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.

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 afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?-Yet who would have thought the old man to have so much blood in him?

Doct. Do you mark that?

Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife. Where is she now? What, will these hands ne'er be clean?-No more o'that, my lord, no more o'that: you mar all with this starting.

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

Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known. Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still! all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh! [charged. Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body.

Doct. Well, well, well,—

Gent. Pray God it be, sir.

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds.

Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale:-I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave. Doct. Even so?

| More needs she the divine, than the physician.--
God, God, forgive us all! Look after her;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance.
And still keep eyes upon her:-So, good night.
My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight:
I think, but dare not speak.

Gent. Good night, good doctor.

[exeunt.

SCENE II. THE COUNTRY NEAR DUNSINANE.

Enter, with drum and colours, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers.

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. Doct. Will she go now to bed? Gent. Directly.

Ment. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,

[deeds

Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural Do breed unnatural troubles. Infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets

Len. For certain, sir, he is not: I have a fle Of all the gentry; there is Siward's son, And many unrough youths, that even now Protest their first of manhood.

Ment. What does the tyrant?

Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies: Some say, he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule.

Ang. Now does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands; Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; Those he commands, move only in command, Nothing in love; now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe Upon a dwarfish thief.

Ment. Who shall then blame

.

His pester'd senses to recoil, and start, When all that is within him does condemn Itself, for being there?

Cath. Well, march we on,

To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd.
Meet we the medecin of the sickly weal;
And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
Each drop of us.

Len. Or so much as it needs,

To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam.

[exeunt, marching.

SCENE III. DUNSINANE. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants. Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them fly 'Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, [all: I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know All mortal consequents, pronounc'd me thus: Fear not, Macbeth, no man, that's born of woman, Shall e'er have power on thee.-Then fly, false And mingle with the English epicures: [thanes, The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear. Enter a Servant. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fuc'd loon; Where got'st thou that goose look?

I shall report that which I say But know not how to do it.

I saw,

Macb. Well, say, sir.

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

Macb. Liar, and slave!

[striking him.

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

Macb. If thou speak'st false,

Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, 'Till famine cling thee: if thy specch be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much.

I pull in resolution; and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth: Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane;—and now, a wood
Comes toward Dunsinane.-Arm, arm, and out!
If this, which he avouches, does appear,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.
I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun,

And wish the estate o'the world were now undone.

Ring the alarum bell:-Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back. [exeunt.

SCENE VI.

THE SAME. A PLAIN BEFORE THE CASTLE.

Enter, with drums and colours, Malcolm, old Siward, Macduff, &c. and their army, with boughs. Mal. Now near enough; your leafy screens throw down,

And show like those you are.- -You, worthy uncle, Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son, Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff, and we, Shall take upon's what else remains to do, According to our order.

Siw. Fare you well.Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night, Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight. [all breath, Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. [exeunt; alarums continued.

If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine,
My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
I cannot strike at wretched kernes, whose arms
Are hir'd to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth,
Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge,'
I sheath again undeeded. There thou should'st be;
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited: Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not.
[exit; alarum.
Enter Malcolm and old Siward.
Siw. This way, my lord;—the castle's gently
render'd:

And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd, Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripp'd.

Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so
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.
Macd. Then yield thee, coward,

And live to be the show and gaze o'the time.
| We'll have thec, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole; and underwrit,
Here may you see the tyrant.
Macb. I'll not yield,

To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born,
Yet I will try the last. Before my body