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Macb. Pry'thee, 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.

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

Lady M.

Fye, 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, 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
Than such a murder is.
Lady M.

My worthy lord,

Your noble friends do lack you.
Macb.

I do forget:

Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends;
I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing [all;
To those that know me. Come, love and health to

'Tis given with welcome: To feed, were best at Then I'll sit down :-Give me some wine, fill full :

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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:

Please it your 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;

To grace us with your royal company?
Macb. The table's full.

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

Len.

Here, my lord. What is't that If trembling I inhibit thee, protest me

moves your highness?
Mach. Which of you have done this?
Lords.
What, my good lord?
Macb. 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?
Macb. 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.

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.
Macb.
Can such things be,
Without our special wonder? You make me strange,
And overcome as like a summer's cloud,
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.

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Good night, and better health

A kind good night to all Exeunt Lords and Attendants.

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Mach. It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood: Stones have been known to move, and trees to Augurs, and understood relations, have [forth By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought The secret'st man of blood.-What is the night? Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which is [person, Macb. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his At our great bidding?

which.

Lady M.

Did you send to him, sir? Macb. 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.

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[abuse Macb. Come, we'll to sleep my strange and self

Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use :-
We are yet but young in deed.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-The Heath. 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 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 magic sights,
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 mortal's chiefest enemy.

SONG. [Within.] Come away, come away, &c.

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Duncan

Was pitied of Macbeth :-marry, he was dead :—
And the right-valiant Banquo walked too late;
Whom you may say, if it please you, Fleance kill'd,
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 sons under his key, [find
(As, an't please heaven, he shall not,) they should
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
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.

Len.
Sent he to Macduff?
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
That clogs me with this answer.

Len. And that well might Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel Fly to the court of England, and unfold His message ere he come; that a swift blessing May soon return to this our suffering country, Under a hand accurs'd! Lord.

My prayers with him! [Exeunt.

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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.

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Who can impress the forest; bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? sweet bodements! good.
Rebellious head, rise never, till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd Macbeth

Macb. How now, you secret, black, and mid- Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath

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

O from our masters?

To time, and mortal custom.-Yet my heart Throbs to know one thing. Tell me (if your art Can tell so much), shall Banquo's issue ever Reign in this kingdom?

All.

Seek to know no more.

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Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first :-
A third is like the former :-Filthy hags! [eyes!
Why do you show me this?-A fourth ?-Start,
What! will the line stretch out to the crack of
doom?

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

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

Stand aye accursed in the calendar !—
Come in, without there!

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Len. Ay, my good lord.

Fled to England?

dread exploits:

Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my
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, done:
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and
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.
[Ereunt.

SCENE II.-Fife. A Room in Macduff's Castle.
Enter Lady MACDUFF, her Son, and Rosse.
L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly
the land?

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.

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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 further:
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.

[Erit 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,

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My father is not dead, for all your saying

Lady 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. Aye, 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.

[lie ?

Son. And must they all be hanged that swear and 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 quickty have a new father.

[known,

L. Macd. Poor prattler! how thou talkest. Enter a Messenger. Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you 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!

I dare abide no longer.

L. Mal.

[Exit Messenger Whither should I fly ?

I have done no harm. But I remember now

I am in this earthly world; where, to do hann,

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Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF.

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I grant him bloody,

Mal. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,

there

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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
Like syllable of dolour.

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,
Was once thought honest; you have lov'd him well;
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young, but
something
You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,
To appease an angry God.

Macd. I am not treacherous.
Mal.

But Macbeth is.

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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
All continent impediments would o'er-bear,
The cistern of my lust; and my desire
That did oppose my will: Better Macbeth,
Than such a one to reign.
Macd.

Boundless intemperance

The untimely emptying of the happy throne,
In nature is a tyranny, it hath been
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,
We have willing dames enough; there cannot be
And yet seem cold, the time you may so hood-wink,
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.

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Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeding lust; and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings; Yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foysons to fill up your will,
With other graces weigh'd.
Of your mere own: All these are portable,

Mal. But I have none: The king-becoming graces,

As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,

I have no relish of them; but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of coucord 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!

2 T

No, not to live.-O nation miserable,

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