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Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1 Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.

2 Witch. Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin'd.
8 Witch. Harper cries: 'Tis time, 'tis time.

1 Witch. Round about the cauldron go ;
In the poison'd entrails throw!-
Toad, that under coldest stone,
Days and nights hast thirty-one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i'the charmed pot!
All. Double, double toil and trouble!
Fire, burn, and, cauldron, bubble.
2 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, and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble!
All. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble

8 Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches' mummy, maw, and gulf,
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock, digg'd i'the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew,
Sliver'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,
For the ingredients of our cauldron.

All. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire, burn, and, cauldron, bubble!

2 Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood,

Then the charm is firm and good.

Enter HECATE, and the other three Witches. Hec. O, well done! I commend your pains;

And every one shall share i'the gains.

And now about the cauldron sing,

Like elves and fairies in a ring,

Enchanting all, that you put in!

SONG.

Black spirits and white,
Red spirits and grey;
Mingle, mingle, mingle,

You that mingle may!

2 Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes:

Open, locks, whoever knocks!

Enter MACBeth.

8 Witch. We'll answer.

1 Witch. Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,

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[Descends.

Macb. 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!

App. 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.

Macb. That will never be;

Who can impress the forest, bid the tree

[Descends.

Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
Rebellious head, rise never, till the wood

Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing. Tell me, (if your art

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Macb. How now, you secret, black, and midnight Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever

hags?

What is't

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you do?

All. A deed without a name.

Macb. Iconjure you, by that which you profess, (Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me! Though you untie the winds, and let them fight

Reign in this kingdom?

All. Seek to know no more!

Macb. 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?

[Hautboys.

1 Witch. Show! 2 Witch. Show! 8 Witch. Show! Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
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.
Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down!
Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.
A third is like the former: - Filthy hags!
Why do yon 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; and some I see,
That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry ;
Horrible sight! Ay, now, I see, 'tis true;
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his. What, is this so?
1 Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so. But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?—
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights,
And show the best of our delights!
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antique round:
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.

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[Music. The Witches dance, and vanish. Macb.Where are they? Gone?-Let this pernicious hour

Stand aye accursed in the calendar!

Come in, without there!

Enter LENOX.

Len. What's your grace's will?

Macb. Saw you the weird sisters?

Len. No, my lord.

Macb. Came they not by you?

Len. No, indeed, my lord.

Macb. 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?

Len. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word,
Macduff is fled to England.

Macb. Fled to England?
Len. Ay, my good lord.

Macb. 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:
But no more sights!- Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are!

[Exeunt. SCENE II.-Fife. Aroom in Macduff's castle. Enter Lady MACDUFF, her Son, and Rosse. L.Macd.What had he done,to make him fly the land? Rosse. You must have patience, madam.

L. Macd. He had none;

His flight was madness. When our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors.

Rosse. You know not,

Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.

All is the fear, and nothing is the love;
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason.
Rosse. My dearest coz',

I pray you, school yourself! But, for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
The fits o'the season. I dare not speak much further:
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,
And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not, what we fear,
But float upon a wild and violent sea,

Each way, and move. I take my leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be here again.
Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before. My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!

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L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort:
I take my leave at once.

L Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead;
And what will you do now? How will
Son. As birds do, mother

[Exit Rosse.

you

live?

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Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.

My father is not dead, for all your saying.

L. Macd. Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband?

L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.
Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet
i'faith,

With wit enough for thee.

Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?
L. Macd. Ay, that he was.

Son. What is a traitor?

L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.
Son. And be all traitors that do so?

L. Macd. Every one, that does so, is a traitor, and must be hanged.

Son. And must they all be hanged, that swear and lie?
L. Macd. Every one.

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!
Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
Though in your state of honour I am perfect.

I doubt, some danger does approach you nearly.

If you will take a homely man's advice,

Be not found here! hence, with your little ones!
To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;

L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his To do worse to you, were fell cruelty,
babes,

His mansion, and his titles, in a place,

From whence himself doth fly? He loves us not,
He wants the natural touch; for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,

Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!
I dare abide no longer.

L. Macd. Whither should I fly?

[Exit Messenger.

I have done no harm. But I remember now,

I am in this earthly world, where, to do harm,

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

[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 there Weep our sad bosoms empty!

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.

Mal. What I believe, I'll wail;

What know, believe; and, what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
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 touch'd you yet. I am young; but some-
thing

You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom,
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,

To appease an angry god.

Macd. I am not treacherous.

Mal. But Macbeth is.

A good and virtuous nature may recoil

In an imperial charge. But 'crave your pardon;
That, which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose:
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell:
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.

Macd. I have lost my hopes.

Mal.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.

Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country!

Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure!

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!

Macd. Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
The untimely emptying of the happy throne,
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you, what is yours. You may
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.
We have willing dames enough; there cannot be
That vulture in you, to devour so many,
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so inclin'd.

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.

Macd. This avarice

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 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, had I power, I should

For goodness dares not check thee. Wear thou thy Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
wrongs!

Thy title is affeer'd. - 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.

Mal. 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,

Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.

Mard. 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-scepter'd,

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
Oftuer upon her knees, than on her feet,

Died every day, she liv'd. 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 first 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 quarrel! Why are you silent?
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once,
'Tis hard to reconcile.

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Macd. 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.

Mal. 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.

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 woe; 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 despise my tongue for ever,

[Exit Doctor. Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound, That ever yet they heard.

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;

And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.

Enter Rosse.

Macd. See, who comes here?

Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not,
Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither!

Mal. I know him now. Good God, betimes remove
The means, that make us strangers!
Rosse. Sir, Amen.

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
A modern ecstacy; 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,

Macd. O, relation

Too nice, and yet too true!

Mal. What is the newest grief?

Macd. Humph! I guess at it.

Rosse. Your castle is surpriz'd, your wife, and babes Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,

Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,

To add the death of you.

Mal. Merciful Heaven!

What, man! ne'er pull your hat u, on 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.

Macd. And I must be from thence!

My wife kill'd too?

Rosse. I have said.

Mal. Be comforted:

Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief!

Macd. 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?

Mal. Dispute it like a man!
Macd. I shall do so;

But I must also feel it as a man.

f 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!
Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword! let grief
Convert to anger! blunt not the heart, enrage it!
Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue! — But, gentle Heaven,

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

Gent. 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 it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching! In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say?

Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her. Doct. You may, to me: and 'tis most meet, you should.

Gent. Neither to you, nor any one; having no ness to confirm my speech.

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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.

Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad. Unnatural deeds

Do breed unnatural troubles, infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
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:
think, but dare not speak.
Gent. Good night, good doctor!

I

[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 Malcolm,
His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff.
wit-Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes
Would, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm,
Excite the mortified man.

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 close! Doct. How came she by that light?

Ang. 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

Gent. Why, it stood by her. She has light by her Of all the gentry; there is Siward's son,
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! - Fye, my lord, fye! 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 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!

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

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 then shall 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 all! 'Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,

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