Len.

Here, my lord. What is't that

moves your highness?

Mac. Which of you have done this?
Lords.

What, my good lord?

Mac. 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; 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?

Mac. 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,

Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
You look but on a stool.

Mac. 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.

Lady M.

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

Lady M.

Fie, for shame!

Mac. 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,

And push us from our stools: This is more strange

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.

Lords. Our duties, and the pledge.

Mac. 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.
Mac. 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 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.

Мас.

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 are 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.

Mac. 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-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.

Mac. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his

person, At our great bidding? Lady M.

Did you send to him, sir?

Mac. 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 weird 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: Strange things I have in head, that will to hand; Which must be acted, ere they may be scann'd. Lady M. You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

Mac. 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.

SCENE V.

THE HEATH.

[Exeunt.

Thunder. Enter Hecate, meeting the three Witches.

1 Witch. Why, how now, Hecate? you look angerly.

Hec. Have I not reason, beldams, as you are, Saucy, and overbold? How did you dare To trade and traffick 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? And, which is worse, all you have done Hath been but for a wayward son, Spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you. 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 every thing beside: I am for the air; this night I'll spend Unto a dismal-fatal end.