The Plays of William Shakspeare

That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it, or be rid on't.

Macb.

Know, Banquo was your enemy.

2 Mur.

Both of you

Macb. So is he mine; and in tance,

True, my lord. such bloody disThat every minute of his being thrusts Against my near'st of life: And though I could With bare-fac'd power sweep him from my sight, And bid my will avouch it; yet I must not, For certain friends that are both his and mine, Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall Whom I myself struck down and thence it is, That I to your assistance do make love; Masking the business from the common eye, For sundry weighty reasons.

2 Mur.

We shall, my lord, Perform what you command us.

1 Mur.

Though our lives

Macb. Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour, at most,

I will advise you where to plant yourselves.
Acquaint you with the perfect spy o'the time,
The moment on't; for't must be done to-night,
And something from the palace; always thought,
That I require a clearness: And with him,
(To leave no rubs, nor botchers, in the work,)
Fleance his son, that keeps him company,
Whose absence is no less material to me
Than is his father's, must embrace the fate
Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart;
I'll come to you anon.
2 Mur.

We are resolv'd, my lord.
Mach. I'll call upon you straight; abide within.
It is concluded:-Banquo, thy soul's flight,
If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.

[Exeunt.

But let

The frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer,
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep
In the affliction of these terrible dreams
That shake us nightly: Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie

In restless ecstacy. Duncan is in his grave;
After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well;
Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
Malice domestick, foreign levy, nothing,
Can touch him further!

Lady M. Come on ;

Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;

Be bright and jovial 'mong your guests to-night.
Mach. So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you:
Let your remembrance apply to Banquo;
Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue :
Unsafe the while, that we

Must lave our honours in these flattering streams;

mons,

The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums,
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be
A deed of dreadful note.
[done
Lady M.
What's to be done?
Mach. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest
chuck,

Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night,
Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;
And, with thy bloody and invisible hand,
Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond
Which keeps me pale !-Light thickens; and the
Makes wing to the rooky wood :

[crow

Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse. Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still ; Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by ill: [Exeunt. So, pr'ythee, go with me.

SCENE III.-The same. A Park or Lawn, with a Gate leading to the Palace.

Enter three Murderers.

1 Mur. But who did bid thee join with us?
3 Mur.
Macbeth.
2 Mur. He needs not our mistrust; since he de-
livers

Our offices, and what we have to do,
To the direction just.

1 Mur.

Then stand with us.

The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:
Now spurs the lated traveller apace,

To gain the timely inn; and near approaches
The subject of our watch.

3 Mur.

2 Mur.

Hark! I hear horses.

Ban. [Within.] Give us a light there, ho! Then it is he; the rest That are within the note of expectation, Already are i'the court.

1 Mur. His horses go about. 3 Mur. Almost a mile; but he does usually, So all men do, from hence to the palace gate Make it their walk.

Enter Banquo and Fleance, a Servant with a torch preceding them. A light, a light!

2 Mur.

3 Mur.

1 Mur. Stand to't. Ban. It will be rain to-night. 1 Mur.

'Tis he.

Let it come down. [Assaults Banquo. Ban. O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly; Thou may'st revenge.-O slave!

[Dies. Fleance and Servant escape. 3 Mur. Who did strike out the light? 1 Mur.

Was't not the way?

3 Mur. There's but one down; the son is fled. 2 Mur. We have lost best half of our affair.

1 Mur. Well, let's away, and say how much is done. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.A Room of State in the Palace. A Banquet prepared.

Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.

Mach. You know your own degrees, sit down : At first and last, the hearty welcome.

Lords. Thanks to your majesty. Mach. Ourself will mingle with society, And play the humble host. Our hostess keeps her state; but, in best time. We will require her welcome.

Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our (Impostors to true fear) would well become

friends;

For my heart speaks, they are welcome.

Enter first Murderer, to the door.

Macb. See, they encounter thee with their hearts'
thanks:

Both sides are even: Here I'll sit i'the midst :
Be large in mirth; anon, we'll drink a measure
The table round. There's blood upon thy face.
aur. 'Tis Banquo's then.

Nach. 'Tis better thee without, than he within.
Is he despatch'd?

Mur. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.

Macb. Thou art the best o'the cut throats: Yet
he's good,

That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,
Thou art the nonpareil.

Mur.

Fleance is 'scap'd.

Most royal sir,

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. 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.

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

Fye, for shame. Mach. 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,

Mach. Then comes my fit again: I had else been And there an end: but now, they rise again, perfect;

Whole as the marble, founded as the rock;
As broad, and general, as the casing air:

But now, I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in
To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe?
Mur. Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
The least a death to nature.

Macb.

Thanks for that:

There the grown serpent lies; the worm, that's fled,
Hath nature that in time will venom breed,
No teeth for the present.-Get thee gone; to-

morrow

With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
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.
Mach.

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,

'Tis given with welcome: To feed, were best at And all to all.

home;

From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony,
Meeting were bare without it.

Macb.

Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!
Len.

May it please your highness sit?
[The Ghost of Banquo rises, and sits in
Macbeth's place.

Macb. Here had we now our country's honour
roof'd,

Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present;
Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
Than pity for mischance!

Rosse.

His absence, sir,

Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your highness

Lords.

Our duties, and the pledge.
Macb. Avaunt! and quit my sight! Let the
earth hide thee!

Sweet remembrancer-Thy bones are marrow less, 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 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.
Mach.
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.

To grace us with your royal company?

Mach. The table's full.

Len. Here's a place reserv'd, sir.
Mach. Where ?

Len.

Here, my lord. What is't that
moves your highness?
Mach. Which of you have done this?
Lords.
What, my good lord?
Mach. 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?
Mach. 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,

Stones have been known to move, and trees to Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleance kill'd,

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.

Macb. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his
At our great bidding?
[person,
Lady M.
Did you send to him, sir?
Mach. 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.

Mach. 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.

Thunder.

[Exeunt.

Enter Hecate, meeting the three Witches.

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

Hec. Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
Saucy, and over-bold? 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.

Great business must be wrought ere noon :
Upon the corner of the moon

There hangs a vaporous drop profound;
I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
And that, distill'd by magick slights,
Shall raise such artificial sprights,
As, by the strength of their illusion,
Shall draw him on to his confusion:
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear :
And you all know, security

Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

Song. [Within.] Come away, come away, &c. Hark, I am call'd; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.

For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late.
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous
It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain,
To kill their gracious father? damned fact !
How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight,
In pious rage, the two delinquents tear,
That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep :
Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too;
For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive,
To hear the men deny it. So that, I say,
He has borne all things well: and I do think,
That, had he Duncan's son under his key,
(As, an't please heaven, he shall not,) they should
find

What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance.
But, peace ;-for from broad words, and 'cause he
fail'd

His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear,
Macduff lives in disgrace: Sir, can you tell
Where he bestows himself?
Lord.
The son of Duncan,
From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
Lives in the English court; and is receiv'd
Of the most pious Edward with such grace,
That the malevolence of fortune nothing
Takes from his high respect: Thither Macduff
Is gone to pray the holy king, on his aid
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward :
That, by the help of these, (with Him above
To ratify the work,) we may again

Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights;
Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives;
an-Do faithful homage, and receive free honours,
All which we pine for now: And this report
Hath so exasperate the king, that he
Prepares for some attempt of war.
Sent he to Macduff?

[Exit.

1 Witch. Come, let's make haste: she'll soon be back again.

[Exeunt.

Len.

SCENE I-A dark Cave.

In the middle, a Cauldron boiling. Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

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

2 Witch. Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin'd. 3 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.
3 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.

Thunder. An Apparition of a bloody Child rises.

App.

Macbeth Macbeth! Macbeth!Macb. Had I three ears, l'd hear thee. App.

Be bloody, bold, And resolute; laugh to scorn the power of man, For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth. [Descends. Macb. Then live, Macduff; W'hat 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.

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

Mach. How now, you secret, black, and mid. To time, and mortal custom.-Yet my heart

night hags ?

What is't you do?
All.

A deed without a name.

Mach. 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 yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up;

Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown down;

Though castles topple on their warders' heads;
Though palaces, and pyramids, 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.

1 Witch.

2 Witch.

3 Witch.

Speak.

Demand.

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

Or from our masters'?

Seek to know no more.

Mach. 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! 3 Witch. Show! 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; Banque 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 you show me this ?-A fourth ?-Start, eyes!

What will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?

see,

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
That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry :
Horrible sight!-Ay, now, I see, 'tis true;
For the blood-bolted 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.

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

Stand aye accursed in the calendar!

Come in, without there!

Len. Ay, my good lord.

Mach. 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.

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.

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;
To do worse to you, were fell cruelty,
Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve

you!

Rosse. You know not, Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear. L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave I dare abide no longer. his babes,

His mansion, and his titles, in a place

From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
He wants the natural touch for the poor wren,

The most diminutive of birds, will fight,

Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
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 fur-
ther:

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!

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.
[Exit Rosse.

L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead; And what will you do now? How will you live? Son. As birds do, mother. L. Macd. What, with worms and flies? Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. L. Macd. Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the net, nor lime,

The pit-fall, nor the gin.

[Exit Messenger. Whither should I fly?

L. Macd. I have done no harm. But I remember now I am in this earthly world; where, to do harm, Is often laudable; to do good, sometime, Accounted dangerous folly: Why then, alas! Do I put up that womanly defence,

To say, I have done no harm?What are these

faces?

Enter Murderers,

Mur. Where is your husband?

L. Macd. I hope, in no place, so unsanctified, Where such as thou may'st find him. Mur.

He's a traitor. Son. Thou ly'st, thou shag-ear'd villain. Mur. What, you egg? [Stabbing him. Young fry of treachery?

Son.

He has kill'd 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 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

Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are Like syllable of dolour.

not set for.

My father is not dead, for all your saying.

Mal. What I believe, I'll wail; What know, believe; and, what I can redress,

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