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Why do you show me this?-A fourth?-Start, eyes!
What! will the line stretch out to the crack of
(Music. The Witches dance, and vanish.) Macb. Where are they? Gone?-Let this pernicious hour
Stand aye accursed in the calendar!-
No, my lord.
Mach. Came they not by you?
Len. Ay, my good lord.
The firstlings of my hand. And even now
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:
Rosse. You must have patience, madam.
He had none :
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear;
L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead;
His mansion, and his titles, in a place
My dearest coz',
are not set for.
The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
Enter a Messenger.
[Exeunt. SCENE II.-Fife. A Room in Macduff's Castle. Enter Lady MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSSE.
Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
Lady Macd. What had he done, to make him fly I doubt, some danger does approach you nearly:
Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
If you will take a homely man's advice,
Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
I have done no harm?-What are these
My father is not dead, for all your saying.
L. Macd. Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for
Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband?
Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.
L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and
Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?
L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.
L. Macd. Every one that does so, is a traitor,
Son. Who must hang them?
L. Macd. Why, the honest men.
Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools: for there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men, and hang up them.
L. Macd. Now God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father?
Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.
L. Macd. Poor prattler! how thou talk'st.
L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified,
He has killed me, mother: Run away, I pray you. (Dies.) [Exit Lady Macduff, crying murder, and pursued by the Murderers.
SCENE III.-England. A Room in the King's Palace.
Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF.
Mal. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and Weep our sad bosoms empty. [there Macd. Let us rather Hold fast the mortal sword; and, like good men, Bestride our down-fall'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.
You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom
Macd. I am not treacherous.
But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil,
Why in that rawness left you wife, and child,
Thy title is affeer'd!-Fare thee well, lord:
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.
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,
Mal. With this, there grows, In my most ill-compos'd affection, such A stanchless avarice, that, were I king, I should cut off the nobles for their lands; Desire his jewels, and this other's house: And my more-having would be as a sauce To make me hunger more; that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the good, and loyal, Destroying them for wealth.
Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root
Mal. But I have none: The king-becoming graces,
O Scotland! Scotland! Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak: I am as I have spoken.
Fit to govern!
And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal father
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. 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 first false speaking Was this upon myself: What I am truly,
Is thine, and my poor country's, to command:
Enter a Doctor.
Mal. Well; more anon.-Comes the king forth,
Doct. Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched souls,
I thank you, doctor,
Macd. What's the disease he means?
The means that make us strangers!
Macd. Stands Scotland where it did?
Rosse. 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; where violent sorrow seems
Macd. Too nice, and yet too true! Mal. What is the newest grief? Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker; Each minute teems a new one. Macd. Rosse. Why, well. Macd.
How does my wife?
And all my children?
Well too. Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did leave them. Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; How goes it? [tidings,
Rosse. When I came hither to transport the 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.
Mal. Be it their comfort, We are coming thither: gracious England hath ́
Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,
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. Macd. My children too? Rosse.
Wife, children, servants, all
That could be found.
My wife kill'd too?
And I must be from thence!
Macd. He has no children.-All my pretty ones?
Mal. Dispute it like a man. Macd. But I must also feel it as a man: I shall do so; That were most precious to me.-Did heaven look cannot but remember such things were, [on, They were all struck for thee! naught that I am, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them [grief Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine [heaven, Cut short all intermission; front to front, And braggart with my tongue! - But, gentle Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too!
Mal. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the king; our power is ready; Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you
The night is long, that never finds the day.
Enter Lady MACBETH, with a taper. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand Doct. How came she by that light? [close. Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually; 'tis her command.
Doct. You see, her eyes are open. Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.
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!-Fy, my lord, fy! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?--Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in Doct. Do you mark that? [him? 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. [should not. Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you 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 band. 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?
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. [deeds
Doct. Will she go now to bed?
Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural
Good night, good doctor. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-The Country near Dunsinane. Enter, with drum and colours, MENTETH, CATHNESS, ANGUS, LENOX, and Soldiers.
Ment. The English power is near, led on by
His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff.
Near Birnam wood Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his brother?
Len. For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file Of all the gentry; there is 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.
Who then shall blame His pester'd senses to recoil, and start, When all that is within him does condemn Itself, for being there?
Well, march we on, To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd: Meet we the medicin of the sickly weal; And with him pour we, in our country's purge, Each drop of us.
Or so much as it needs, To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam.
SCENE III.-Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants. Macb. 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?
Enter a Servant.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon!
Macb. 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? Serv. The English force, so please you. Macb. Take thy face hence.-Seyton!-I am sick at heart,
When I behold-Seyton, I say!--This push
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath, | But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:
Sey. What is your gracious pleasure? Macb. What news more? Sey. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported. [hack'd. Macb. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be Give me my armour.
"Tis not needed yet.
Macb. I'll put it on. Send out more horses, skirr the country round; Hang those that talk of fear.-Give me mine ar[mour.How does your patient, doctor? Doct. Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, That keep her from her rest.
Macb. 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 stuff, Which weighs upon the heart?
Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.
Macb. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it. Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff:Seyton, send out.-Doctor, the thanes fly from
[Exeunt, marching. SCENE V.-Dunsinane. Within the Castle. Enter, with drums and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
Macb. 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 (A cry within, of women.) Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Macb. 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 supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me.-Wherefore was that cry? Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.
Macb. 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.
If thou speak'st false, Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, Till famine cling thee: if thy speech 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,
And wish the estate o'the world were now undone.-
[Exeunt. SCENE VI.-The same. A lain before the Castle. Enter, with drums and colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, MACDUFF, &c. and their Army, with boughs.
Mal. Now near enough; your leavy screens throw down,
And show like those you are:-You, worthy uncle,