Lords. What, my good lord?
Macb. Thou can't not say, I did it: nerer shake
Thy gory locks at me.

Rosse. Gentlemen, rise; bis 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; upon a thought
He will again 'be well: If much you note him,
You shall offend him, and extend his passion;*
Feed, and regard him not.- Are you a man?

Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
Which might appal the devil.
Lady M.

0
proper

stuff:
This the very painting of your fear:
This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said,
Led

you to Duncan. 0, these flaws, and starts,
(Impostors to true fear) would well become
A woman's story, at a winter's fire,
Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
You look but on a stool.
Macb. Proythee, 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 disappears

Lady M. What! quite unmann'd in folly?
Macb. If I stand here, I saw him.
Lady M.

Fie, for shame!
Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden

time,
Ere human statute purg'd 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,
* Prolong his suffering. + Sudden gusts

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.
Macb.

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,

Ghost rises.
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
And all to all.t
Lords.

Our duties, and the pledge.
Macb. 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.

Macb. 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 inhibitř thee, 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 displac'd the mirth, broke

the good meeting, With most admir'd disorder, Macb.

Can such things be, # Wonder.

ti. e. All good wishes to all * Forbid.

and worse;

And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
Without our special wonder? You make me strange
Even to the disposition that I owet
When now I think you can Behold such sights,
And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,
When mine are blanch'd with fear.
Rosse.

What sights, my lord?
Lady M. I pray you, speak not; he grows worse
Question enrages him: at once, good night:
Stand not upon the order of your going,
But go at once.
Len.

Good night and better health Attend his majesty!

. A kind good night to all!

[Exeunt Lords and Attendants. Macb. 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 magot-piest and choughs, and rooks, brought

forth The secret'st man of blood.

Lady M.

ACT IV.

THE POWER OF WITCHES. I conjure you, by that which you profess, (Howe'er you come to know it) answer me: Though you untie the winds, and let them fight Against the churches; though the yestyß waves Confound and swallow navigation up; Though bladed corn be lodg'd|| and trees blown

down; Though castles topples on their warders' heads; Though palaces, and pvran: iis, do slope Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure Of nature's germins** tumble all together,

Even till destruction sicken, answer me
To what I ask you.

MALCOLM'S CHARACTER OF HIMSELF.
Mal. But I have none: The king-becoming graces
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
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, bad I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.
Macb.

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

Fit to govern!
No, not to live.-0 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 accursd,
And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore thee
Oftener 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.--0, my breast,
Thy hope ends here!
Mal.

Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wipd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts To thy good truth and honour. Dev’lish Macbeth By many of these trains hath sought to win me Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me From over-credulous haste:* But God above Deal between thee and me! for even now I put myself to thy direction, and Unspeak mine own detraction: here abjure The taints and blames I laid upon myself,

* Over-hasty credulity

For strangers to my nature.

I am yet
Unknown to woman; never was foresworn;
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own:
At no time broke my faith; would not betray®
The devil to his fellow; and delight
No less in truth, than life: my first false speaking
Was this upon myself: What I am truly,
Is thine, and my poor country's, to command.

AN OPPRESSED COUNTRY.

MURDER

OF

Alas, poor country;
Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where nothing,
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the

air,
Are made, not mark’d: were 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'S BEHAVIOUR ON THE

HIS
WIFE AND CHILDREN.
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 latchf them.
Macd.

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 wo; though the main part
Pertains to you alone.
Macd.

If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.
Rosse. Let not your ears espise my tongue for

ever,
Which shall possess them with the heavest sound,
'That ever yet they heard.
* Common distress of mind. | Catchs

A grief that has a single owner.