You shall offend him, and extend his passion; MACB. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that LADY M. O proper stuff! This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said, Authoris'd by her grandam. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces? When all 's done, You look but on a stool. MACB. Prithee, 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 LADY M. [Ghost disappears. What! quite unmann'd in folly? MACB. If I stand here, I saw him. 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, murthers 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, 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; Enter Ghost. I drink to the general joy of the whole table mood. And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss; 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: 't is no other; MACB. What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, [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, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange P16. 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. 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; By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth LADY M. Almost at odds with morning, which is which. MACB. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person, At our great bidding LADY M. Did you send to him, sir? MACB. I hear it by the way; but I will send: More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know, Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Strange things I have in head, that will to hand; LADY M. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. MACB. 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 over-bold? How did you dare To trade and traffic with Macbeth, In riddles, and affairs cf death; Was never call'd to bear my part, And, which is worse, all you have done, Spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do, Meet me i' the morning; thither he Great business must be wrought ere noon: There hangs a vaporous drop, profound; Is mortal's chiefest enemy. SONG. [Within.] Come away, come away,' &c. Hark, I am call'd; my little spirit, see; [Exit. 1 WITCH. Come, let's make haste: she'll soon be back Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. again. SCENE VI.-Forres. A Room in the Palace. Enter LENOX, and another Lord. [Exeunt. LEN. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Things have been strangely borne: The gracious Duncan And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late; It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain, To kill their gracious father? damned fact! That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep: He has borne all things well: and I do think, (As, an 't please heaven, he shall not,) they should find Macduff lives in disgrace: Sir, can you tell LORD. Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights; Prepares for some attempt of war. Sent he to Macduff? LEN. LORD. He did: and with an absolute, "Sir, not I," The cloudy messenger turns me his back, And hums; as who should say, "You'll rue the time |