"They met me on the day of my success, And with new Titles did thy lord address. They call'd me Thane of Cawdor, and strange thing!

Declar'd hereafter I should be a King.

I then receiv'd a message, and I vow,

The Thane of Cawdor is my

title now. Consider this until we meet again;

"Till when your loving husband I remain.” Cawdor thou art!-Glamis, thou wast before,

5

And by and by, my dear, thou shalt bé more... ›Ÿ

But much I fear thou hast a chicken heart;
Thou wou'dst be great-wou'dst act a noble part,
For thou'st ambition and good sense I grant,
But impudence, alas! thou seem'st to want;
Oh yes-thou woud'st have greatness at com.
mand,

But for that greatness wilt not soil thy hand.
Then hie thee hither hither love, repair,
And take of my effrontery a share;

I'll teach thee this false conscience to subdue,
And to be great, thou dirty work shalt do.

A fellow-servant came here on the wing,
say the Thane is coming with the King.

Το

Lady Macbeth.

Receive them well,

(Serv. ex.

די

Hoarse is that raven sure, That croaks the king's arrival at our door. Now all ye imps of hell, ye furies pray, Drive from my heart sweet gentleness away. Unsex me teach me fine insidious speeches, Make me a devil-let me wear the breeches. (12)

Enter Macbeth. (They embrace).

Great Glamis-Cawdor too-but I foresee,
Greater than both, by what is yet to be;
Your letters have afforded me vast pleasure,
In short, I am transported beyond measure.

Macbeth.

My love, this night his Majesty here spends.

Lady Macbeth.

When leave us pray?

Lady Macbeth.

When Duncan goes to bed, Sir,
His Chamberlains I'll ply

With wine 'till almost dead, Sir,
Then eyes we may defy.

Singing fal, lai, la.

Macbeth.

All being fast asleep, then,
O'ercome with drink and food,
I'll to their bedside creep, then,
And sprinkle them with blood.

Both.

Singing fal, lal, la.

When we have murder'd Duncan, With razors which they've brought, These fellows stain'd and drunken, Th' assassins will be thought.

With their fal, lal, la.

End of Act I.

Ex.

-A

ACT II.

SCENE-The Hall.

Enter Macbeth thoughtful—he suddenly stops and starts.

Is this a razor which obstructs my sight,
The handle next me? damn't, I'll hold it tight.

(Jumps up, catches at nothing, reels and falls.)

I have thee not, and yet I see thee there—
Over
my head -now hov'ring in the air.

(Gets up and looks stedfastly.)

Art thou not-dreadful something in disguise, As sensible to hands as to the eyes?

Or but a thing of fancy-a meer hoax, (13) Proceeding from some mischief-making jokes?