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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 the antique round:
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.

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

Stand aye accursed in the calender!-
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 ex-
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook, [ploits:
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 traces his line. No boasting like a fool;
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool:
But no more sights!-Where are these gentle-

men?

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Rosse. You know not,

Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.
L. Mucd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave
his babes,

His mansion, and his titles, in a place [not;
From whence himself does fly? He loves us
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 cod,

* Besmeared with blood

+ 2. e. Spirits.

Preventest, by taking away the opportunity.
Follow.

1. e. Our flight is considered as evidence of our treason.
Natural affection.
** Fight for.

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From what we fear, yet know not what we
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 father. less.

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. Mucd. 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! thoud'st never fear the net, nor lime, The pit-fall, nor the gin.

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.t
I doubt, some danger does approach you near-
If you will take a homely man's advice, [ly:
Be not found here; hence, with your little

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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, [well; Was once thought honest: you have lov'd him He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but something [dom You may deserve of him through me; and wisTo 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, [don;
In an imperial charge. But 'crave your par-
That which you are, my thoughts cannot trans-
pose:
[fell:
Angels are bright still, though the brightest
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.

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Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dares not check thee! wear thou thy 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 And the rich east to boot. (grasp,

Mal. Be not offended:

I speak not as in an 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;
Of goodly thousands: But, for all this,
And here, from gracious England, have I offer
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;
More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed.

Macd. What should he be?

Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted, [beth That, when they shall be open'd, black MacWill seem as pure as snow; and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd With my confineless harms.

Macd. Not in the legions

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

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'er-bear,
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 hood-
wink.

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.

[root

Macd. This avarice Than summer-seeding lust: and it hath been Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious 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,

Legally settled by those who had the final s¿judi

cation.

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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, [should
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.

Macd. 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
[thee,
Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore
Oftner upon her knees than on her feet,
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself,
Have banish'd me from Scotland.-O, my
Thy hope ends here!
[breast,

Mal. Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my
thoughts
[beth
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Mac-
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
[ing
No less in truth, than life: my first false speak-
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 good-
[silent?
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things
"Tis hard to reconcile.
[at once,

ness,

Enter a DOCTOR.

Mal. Well; more anon.-Comes the king forth, I pray you?

Doct. Ay, Sir: there are a crew of wretched souls,

That stay his cure: their malady convincest
The great assay of art; but, at his touch,
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand,
They presently amend.

Mal. I thank you, doctor. [Erit DOCTOR.
Macd. What is the disease he means?
Mal. "Tis call'd the evil :

A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which often, since my here-remain in Eng-

land,

I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,

All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, + Overpowers, subdues.

* Over-hasty credulity.

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Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

Mal. I know him now: Good God, betimes The means that make us strangers! [remove 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 smil-
Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rem
the air,
[seems
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow
A modern ecstacy; the dead man's knell
Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's
Expire before the flowers in their caps, [lives,
Dying, or ere they sicken.

Mucd. O, relation,

Too nice, and yet too true!

Mal. What is the newest grief?

Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the Each minute teems a new one.

Macd. How does my wife?

Rosse. Why, well.

Macd. And all my children?

Rosse. Well too.

[speaker;

Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their

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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 Pertains to you alone.

Macd. If it be mine,

[part

Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

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Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, [sound, Which shall possess them with the heaviest That ever yet they heard.

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.

Mul. Merciful heaven![brows; What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak, [break. Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it 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 1 must also feel it as a man:

I cannot but remember such things were, That were not 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!

eyes,

Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief [it. Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine [heaven, And braggart with my tongue!-But, gentle Cut short all intermission;+ front to front, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too!

Mal. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the king; our power is ready; Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may;

The night is long, that never finds the day.

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-Dunsinane.-A Room in the Castle.

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 witness to confirm my speech.

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? Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her 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!-Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afear'd? 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 sight is there! The heart is sorely charged.

Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body. Doct. Well, well, well,

Gent. 'Pray God, it be, Sir.

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds. Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your

Enter a DOCTOR of Physic, and a waiting GEN-night-gown; look not so pale:-I tell you yet

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again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave.

Doct. Even so?

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: Unna tural deeds

* Dark.

Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their se-

crets.

[cian.
More needs she the divive, than the physi-
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:
[sight:
My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my
I think, but dare not speak.

Gent. Good night, good doctor. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-The Country near Dunsinane.
Enter, with Drum and Colours, MENTETH, CATH-
NESS, ANGUS, LENOX, and Soldiers.
Ment. The English power is near, led on by
Malcolm,

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

Ang. Near Birnam wood
[coming,
Shall we well meet them; that way are they
Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his
brother?

Len. For certain, Sir, he is not: I have a file
Of all the gentry; there is Siward's son,
And many unrought 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 Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, [him, 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 on. in command,
Nothing in love: now does he feel the 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?

Cuth. Well, march we on,

To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd:
Meet we the medecins 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, [weeds.
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the
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,
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Mal-
[know

colm!

Was he not born of woman? The spirits that
All mortal consequents, pronounc'd me thus:
Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman,
Shall e'er have power on thee.Then fly, false
thanes,

And mingle with the English epicures:
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never sag with doubt, nor shake with

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Enter a SERVANT.

[loon!"

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd
Where got'st thou that goose look?
Serv. There is ten thousand-
Macb. Geese, villain?
Serv. Soldiers, Sir.

Macb. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy
fear,

Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-
face?

Serv. The English force, so please you.
Macb. Take thy face hence.-Seyton !-I am
sick at heart,

When I behold-Seyton, I say!—This push
Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
I have liv'd long enough: my way of life
Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour,
breath,
[dare not.
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but
Seyton!-

Enter SEYTON.

Sey. What is your gracious pleasure?
Mucb. What news more?

Sey. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was
reported.

Macb. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh
be hack'd.
Give me my armour.

Sey. "Tis not needed yet.
Mach. I'll put it on.

Send out more horses, skirrs the country round;
Hang those that talk of fear.-Give me mine
How does your patient, doctor? [armour.-

Doct. Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.

Macb. Cure her of that:

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?

Doct. Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.

Macb. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of
it.-
[staff:-
Come, put mine armour on; give me my
Seyton, send out.-Doctor, the thanes fly from
[cast

me:

Come, Sir, despatch:-If thou could'st, doctor,
The water of my land, find her disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
I would applaud thee to the very echo,
That should applaud again.-Pull't off, I say.-
What rhubarb, senna; or what purgative drug,
Would scour these English hence!-Hearest

thou of them?

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* Base fellow.
↑ Dry.

[Exit

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