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| The name '''Optimus Prime''' has been assigned to several different characters: | | The name '''Optimus Prime''' has been assigned to several different characters: |
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| But feck that noise. Here's some culture, courtesy of Bill Shakespere.
| | *[[Optimus Prime (G1)|Optimus Prime]], the original version of the Autobot Commander from [[Generation 1]]. For toys of this character, see [[Optimus Prime (G1) toys]]. |
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| The Tragedy of Macbeth
| | *[[Optimus Prime (RID)|Optimus Prime]], the Autobot commander fire truck from ''[[Robots in Disguise]]''. |
| Shakespeare homepage | Macbeth | Entire play
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| ACT I
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| SCENE I. A desert place.
| | *[[Optimus Prime (Armada)|Optimus Prime]], Autobot Commander truck from the [[Unicron Trilogy]] series. |
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| Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches
| | *[[Optimus Prime (Worlds Collide)|Optimus Prime]], an Autobot commander killed by Unicron and sent into another dimension during the [[Armada (Dreamwave comic)|Dreamwave ''Armada'' comic]]'s [[Worlds Collide, Part 1|Worlds Collide storyline]]. |
| First Witch
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| When shall we three meet again
| |
| In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
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| Second Witch
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| When the hurlyburly's done,
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| When the battle's lost and won.
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| Third Witch
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| That will be ere the set of sun.
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| First Witch
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| Where the place?
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| Second Witch
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| Upon the heath.
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| Third Witch
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| There to meet with Macbeth.
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| First Witch
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| I come, Graymalkin!
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| Second Witch
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| Paddock calls.
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| Third Witch
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| Anon.
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| ALL
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| Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
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| Hover through the fog and filthy air.
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| Exeunt
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| SCENE II. A camp near Forres.
| | *[[Optimus Prime (Movie)|Optimus Prime]], commander of the Autobots from the [[Transformers (2007)|''Transformers'' live-action movie]] continuity. |
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| Alarum within. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant
| |
| DUNCAN
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| What bloody man is that? He can report,
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| As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
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| The newest state.
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| MALCOLM
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| This is the sergeant
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| Who like a good and hardy soldier fought
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| 'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend!
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| Say to the king the knowledge of the broil
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| As thou didst leave it.
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| Sergeant
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| Doubtful it stood;
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| As two spent swimmers, that do cling together
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| And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald--
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| Worthy to be a rebel, for to that
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| The multiplying villanies of nature
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| Do swarm upon him--from the western isles
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| Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied;
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| And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,
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| Show'd like a rebel's whore: but all's too weak:
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| For brave Macbeth--well he deserves that name--
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| Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,
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| Which smoked with bloody execution,
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| Like valour's minion carved out his passage
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| Till he faced the slave;
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| Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
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| Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,
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| And fix'd his head upon our battlements.
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| DUNCAN
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| O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!
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| Sergeant
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| As whence the sun 'gins his reflection
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| Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break,
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| So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come
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| Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark:
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| No sooner justice had with valour arm'd
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| Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels,
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| But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage,
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| With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men
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| Began a fresh assault.
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| DUNCAN
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| Dismay'd not this
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| Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?
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| Sergeant
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| Yes;
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| As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.
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| If I say sooth, I must report they were
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| As cannons overcharged with double cracks, so they
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| Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe:
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| Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
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| Or memorise another Golgotha,
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| I cannot tell.
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| But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.
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| DUNCAN
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| So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;
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| They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons.
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| Exit Sergeant, attended
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|
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|
| Who comes here?
| | Optimus Prime is not to be confused with: |
| Enter ROSS
| |
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| MALCOLM
| | *[[Optimus (disambiguation)|Other uses of the name "Optimus"]] |
| The worthy thane of Ross.
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| LENNOX
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| What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look
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| That seems to speak things strange.
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| ROSS
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| God save the king!
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| DUNCAN
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| Whence camest thou, worthy thane?
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| ROSS
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| From Fife, great king;
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| Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky
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| And fan our people cold. Norway himself,
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| With terrible numbers,
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| Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
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| The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;
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| Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,
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| Confronted him with self-comparisons,
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| Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm.
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| Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,
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| The victory fell on us.
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| DUNCAN
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| Great happiness!
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| ROSS
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| That now
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| Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition:
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| Nor would we deign him burial of his men
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| Till he disbursed at Saint Colme's inch
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| Ten thousand dollars to our general use.
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| DUNCAN
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| No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
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| Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death,
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| And with his former title greet Macbeth.
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| ROSS
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| I'll see it done.
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| DUNCAN
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| What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.
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| Exeunt
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| SCENE III. A heath near Forres.
| | *[[Prime (disambiguation)|Other uses of the name "Prime"]] |
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| Thunder. Enter the three Witches
| | {{disambig}}<div id="wikia-credits"><br /><br /><small>From [http://transformers.wikia.com Teletraan I: The Transformers Wiki], a [http://www.wikia.com Wikia] wiki.</small></div> |
| First Witch
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| Where hast thou been, sister?
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| Second Witch
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| Killing swine.
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| Third Witch
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| Sister, where thou?
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| First Witch
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| A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
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| And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd:--
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| 'Give me,' quoth I:
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| 'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries.
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| Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:
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| But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
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| And, like a rat without a tail,
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| I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.
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| Second Witch
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| I'll give thee a wind.
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| First Witch
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| Thou'rt kind.
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| Third Witch
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| And I another.
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| First Witch
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| I myself have all the other,
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| And the very ports they blow,
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| All the quarters that they know
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| I' the shipman's card.
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| I will drain him dry as hay:
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| Sleep shall neither night nor day
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| Hang upon his pent-house lid;
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| He shall live a man forbid:
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| Weary se'nnights nine times nine
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| Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:
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| Though his bark cannot be lost,
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| Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
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| Look what I have.
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| Second Witch
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| Show me, show me.
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| First Witch
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| Here I have a pilot's thumb,
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| Wreck'd as homeward he did come.
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| Drum within
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| Third Witch
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| A drum, a drum!
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| Macbeth doth come.
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| ALL
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| The weird sisters, hand in hand,
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| Posters of the sea and land,
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| Thus do go about, about:
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| Thrice to thine and thrice to mine
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| And thrice again, to make up nine.
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| Peace! the charm's wound up.
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| Enter MACBETH and BANQUO
| |
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| MACBETH
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| So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
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| BANQUO
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| How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these
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| So wither'd and so wild in their attire,
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| That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
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| And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught
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| That man may question? You seem to understand me,
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| By each at once her chappy finger laying
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| Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,
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| And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
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| That you are so.
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| MACBETH
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| Speak, if you can: what are you?
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| First Witch
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| All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
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| Second Witch
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| All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!
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| Third Witch
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| All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter!
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| BANQUO
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| Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
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| Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth,
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| Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
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| Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
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| You greet with present grace and great prediction
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| Of noble having and of royal hope,
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| That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not.
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| If you can look into the seeds of time,
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| And say which grain will grow and which will not,
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| Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
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| Your favours nor your hate.
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| First Witch
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| Hail!
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| Second Witch
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| Hail!
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| Third Witch
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| Hail!
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| First Witch
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| Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
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| Second Witch
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| Not so happy, yet much happier.
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| Third Witch
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| Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:
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| So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
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| First Witch
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| Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
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| MACBETH
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| Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
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| By Sinel's death I know I am thane of Glamis;
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| But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
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| A prosperous gentleman; and to be king
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| Stands not within the prospect of belief,
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| No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
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| You owe this strange intelligence? or why
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| Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
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| With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.
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| Witches vanish
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| BANQUO
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| The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
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| And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?
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| MACBETH
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| Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted
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| As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!
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| BANQUO
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| Were such things here as we do speak about?
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| Or have we eaten on the insane root
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| That takes the reason prisoner?
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| MACBETH
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| Your children shall be kings.
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| BANQUO
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| You shall be king.
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| MACBETH
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| And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?
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| BANQUO
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| To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here?
| |
| Enter ROSS and ANGUS
| |
| | |
| ROSS
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| The king hath happily received, Macbeth,
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| The news of thy success; and when he reads
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| Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
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| His wonders and his praises do contend
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| Which should be thine or his: silenced with that,
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| In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day,
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| He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
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| Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
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| Strange images of death. As thick as hail
| |
| Came post with post; and every one did bear
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| Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
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| And pour'd them down before him.
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| ANGUS
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| We are sent
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| To give thee from our royal master thanks;
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| Only to herald thee into his sight,
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| Not pay thee.
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| ROSS
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| And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
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| He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:
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| In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
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| For it is thine.
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| BANQUO
| |
| What, can the devil speak true?
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| MACBETH
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| The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
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| In borrow'd robes?
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| ANGUS
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| Who was the thane lives yet;
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| But under heavy judgment bears that life
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| Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined
| |
| With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
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| With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
| |
| He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
| |
| But treasons capital, confess'd and proved,
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| Have overthrown him.
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| MACBETH
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| [Aside] Glamis, and thane of Cawdor!
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| The greatest is behind.
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| To ROSS and ANGUS
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| Thanks for your pains.
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| To BANQUO
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| Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
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| When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me
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| Promised no less to them?
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| BANQUO
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| That trusted home
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| Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
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| Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
| |
| And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
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| The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
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| Win us with honest trifles, to betray's
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| In deepest consequence.
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| Cousins, a word, I pray you.
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| MACBETH
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| [Aside] Two truths are told,
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| As happy prologues to the swelling act
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| Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen.
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| Aside
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| Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,
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| Why hath it given me earnest of success,
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| Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
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| If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
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| Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
| |
| And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
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| Against the use of nature? Present fears
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| Are less than horrible imaginings:
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| My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
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| Shakes so my single state of man that function
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| Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
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| But what is not.
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| BANQUO
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| Look, how our partner's rapt.
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| MACBETH
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| [Aside] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
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| Without my stir.
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| BANQUO
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| New horrors come upon him,
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| Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
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| But with the aid of use.
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| MACBETH
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| [Aside] Come what come may,
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| Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
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| BANQUO
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| Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
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| MACBETH
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| Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought
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| With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
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| Are register'd where every day I turn
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| The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.
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| Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time,
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| The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
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| Our free hearts each to other.
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| BANQUO
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| Very gladly.
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| MACBETH
| |
| Till then, enough. Come, friends.
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| Exeunt
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| SCENE IV. Forres. The palace.
| |
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| Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, and Attendants
| |
| DUNCAN
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| Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not
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| Those in commission yet return'd?
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| MALCOLM
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| My liege,
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| They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
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| With one that saw him die: who did report
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| That very frankly he confess'd his treasons,
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| Implored your highness' pardon and set forth
| |
| A deep repentance: nothing in his life
| |
| Became him like the leaving it; he died
| |
| As one that had been studied in his death
| |
| To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
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| As 'twere a careless trifle.
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| DUNCAN
| |
| There's no art
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| To find the mind's construction in the face:
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| He was a gentleman on whom I built
| |
| An absolute trust.
| |
| Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, ROSS, and ANGUS
| |
| | |
| O worthiest cousin!
| |
| The sin of my ingratitude even now
| |
| Was heavy on me: thou art so far before
| |
| That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
| |
| To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved,
| |
| That the proportion both of thanks and payment
| |
| Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
| |
| More is thy due than more than all can pay.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| The service and the loyalty I owe,
| |
| In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
| |
| Is to receive our duties; and our duties
| |
| Are to your throne and state children and servants,
| |
| Which do but what they should, by doing every thing
| |
| Safe toward your love and honour.
| |
| DUNCAN
| |
| Welcome hither:
| |
| I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
| |
| To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
| |
| That hast no less deserved, nor must be known
| |
| No less to have done so, let me enfold thee
| |
| And hold thee to my heart.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| There if I grow,
| |
| The harvest is your own.
| |
| DUNCAN
| |
| My plenteous joys,
| |
| Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
| |
| In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes,
| |
| And you whose places are the nearest, know
| |
| We will establish our estate upon
| |
| Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter
| |
| The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must
| |
| Not unaccompanied invest him only,
| |
| But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
| |
| On all deservers. From hence to Inverness,
| |
| And bind us further to you.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| The rest is labour, which is not used for you:
| |
| I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful
| |
| The hearing of my wife with your approach;
| |
| So humbly take my leave.
| |
| DUNCAN
| |
| My worthy Cawdor!
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| [Aside] The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step
| |
| On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap,
| |
| For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires;
| |
| Let not light see my black and deep desires:
| |
| The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be,
| |
| Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
| |
| Exit
| |
| | |
| DUNCAN
| |
| True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant,
| |
| And in his commendations I am fed;
| |
| It is a banquet to me. Let's after him,
| |
| Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:
| |
| It is a peerless kinsman.
| |
| Flourish. Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE V. Inverness. Macbeth's castle.
| |
| | |
| Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a letter
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| 'They met me in the day of success: and I have
| |
| learned by the perfectest report, they have more in
| |
| them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire
| |
| to question them further, they made themselves air,
| |
| into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in
| |
| the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who
| |
| all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title,
| |
| before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred
| |
| me to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king that
| |
| shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver
| |
| thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou
| |
| mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being
| |
| ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it
| |
| to thy heart, and farewell.'
| |
| Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be
| |
| What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature;
| |
| It is too full o' the milk of human kindness
| |
| To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great;
| |
| Art not without ambition, but without
| |
| The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly,
| |
| That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
| |
| And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'ldst have, great Glamis,
| |
| That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it;
| |
| And that which rather thou dost fear to do
| |
| Than wishest should be undone.' Hie thee hither,
| |
| That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;
| |
| And chastise with the valour of my tongue
| |
| All that impedes thee from the golden round,
| |
| Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem
| |
| To have thee crown'd withal.
| |
| Enter a Messenger
| |
| | |
| What is your tidings?
| |
| Messenger
| |
| The king comes here to-night.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Thou'rt mad to say it:
| |
| Is not thy master with him? who, were't so,
| |
| Would have inform'd for preparation.
| |
| Messenger
| |
| So please you, it is true: our thane is coming:
| |
| One of my fellows had the speed of him,
| |
| Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
| |
| Than would make up his message.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Give him tending;
| |
| He brings great news.
| |
| Exit Messenger
| |
| | |
| The raven himself is hoarse
| |
| That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
| |
| Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
| |
| That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
| |
| And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
| |
| Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;
| |
| Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
| |
| That no compunctious visitings of nature
| |
| Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
| |
| The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
| |
| And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
| |
| Wherever in your sightless substances
| |
| You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
| |
| And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
| |
| That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
| |
| Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
| |
| To cry 'Hold, hold!'
| |
| Enter MACBETH
| |
| | |
| Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor!
| |
| Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!
| |
| Thy letters have transported me beyond
| |
| This ignorant present, and I feel now
| |
| The future in the instant.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| My dearest love,
| |
| Duncan comes here to-night.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| And when goes hence?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| To-morrow, as he purposes.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| O, never
| |
| Shall sun that morrow see!
| |
| Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
| |
| May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
| |
| Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
| |
| Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
| |
| But be the serpent under't. He that's coming
| |
| Must be provided for: and you shall put
| |
| This night's great business into my dispatch;
| |
| Which shall to all our nights and days to come
| |
| Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| We will speak further.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Only look up clear;
| |
| To alter favour ever is to fear:
| |
| Leave all the rest to me.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE VI. Before Macbeth's castle.
| |
| | |
| Hautboys and torches. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, BANQUO, LENNOX, MACDUFF, ROSS, ANGUS, and Attendants
| |
| DUNCAN
| |
| This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
| |
| Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
| |
| Unto our gentle senses.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| This guest of summer,
| |
| The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,
| |
| By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath
| |
| Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,
| |
| Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
| |
| Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:
| |
| Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,
| |
| The air is delicate.
| |
| Enter LADY MACBETH
| |
| | |
| DUNCAN
| |
| See, see, our honour'd hostess!
| |
| The love that follows us sometime is our trouble,
| |
| Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you
| |
| How you shall bid God 'ild us for your pains,
| |
| And thank us for your trouble.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| All our service
| |
| In every point twice done and then done double
| |
| Were poor and single business to contend
| |
| Against those honours deep and broad wherewith
| |
| Your majesty loads our house: for those of old,
| |
| And the late dignities heap'd up to them,
| |
| We rest your hermits.
| |
| DUNCAN
| |
| Where's the thane of Cawdor?
| |
| We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose
| |
| To be his purveyor: but he rides well;
| |
| And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him
| |
| To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess,
| |
| We are your guest to-night.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Your servants ever
| |
| Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt,
| |
| To make their audit at your highness' pleasure,
| |
| Still to return your own.
| |
| DUNCAN
| |
| Give me your hand;
| |
| Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly,
| |
| And shall continue our graces towards him.
| |
| By your leave, hostess.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE VII. Macbeth's castle.
| |
| | |
| Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers Servants with dishes and service, and pass over the stage. Then enter MACBETH
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well
| |
| It were done quickly: if the assassination
| |
| Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
| |
| With his surcease success; that but this blow
| |
| Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
| |
| But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
| |
| We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases
| |
| We still have judgment here; that we but teach
| |
| Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
| |
| To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice
| |
| Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
| |
| To our own lips. He's here in double trust;
| |
| First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
| |
| Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,
| |
| Who should against his murderer shut the door,
| |
| Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
| |
| Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
| |
| So clear in his great office, that his virtues
| |
| Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
| |
| The deep damnation of his taking-off;
| |
| And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
| |
| Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
| |
| Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
| |
| Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
| |
| That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
| |
| To prick the sides of my intent, but only
| |
| Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
| |
| And falls on the other.
| |
| Enter LADY MACBETH
| |
| | |
| How now! what news?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| He has almost supp'd: why have you left the chamber?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Hath he ask'd for me?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Know you not he has?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| We will proceed no further in this business:
| |
| He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought
| |
| Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
| |
| Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
| |
| Not cast aside so soon.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Was the hope drunk
| |
| Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since?
| |
| And wakes it now, to look so green and pale
| |
| At what it did so freely? From this time
| |
| Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard
| |
| To be the same in thine own act and valour
| |
| As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that
| |
| Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,
| |
| And live a coward in thine own esteem,
| |
| Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,'
| |
| Like the poor cat i' the adage?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Prithee, peace:
| |
| I dare do all that may become a man;
| |
| Who dares do more is none.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| What beast was't, then,
| |
| That made you break this enterprise to me?
| |
| When you durst do it, then you were a man;
| |
| And, to be more than what you were, you would
| |
| Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place
| |
| Did then adhere, and yet you would make both:
| |
| They have made themselves, and that their fitness now
| |
| Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know
| |
| How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me:
| |
| I would, while it was smiling in my face,
| |
| Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
| |
| And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you
| |
| Have done to this.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| If we should fail?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| We fail!
| |
| But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
| |
| And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep--
| |
| Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey
| |
| Soundly invite him--his two chamberlains
| |
| Will I with wine and wassail so convince
| |
| That memory, the warder of the brain,
| |
| Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
| |
| A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep
| |
| Their drenched natures lie as in a death,
| |
| What cannot you and I perform upon
| |
| The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
| |
| His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt
| |
| Of our great quell?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Bring forth men-children only;
| |
| For thy undaunted mettle should compose
| |
| Nothing but males. Will it not be received,
| |
| When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
| |
| Of his own chamber and used their very daggers,
| |
| That they have done't?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Who dares receive it other,
| |
| As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
| |
| Upon his death?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| I am settled, and bend up
| |
| Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
| |
| Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
| |
| False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| | |
| ACT II
| |
| | |
| SCENE I. Court of Macbeth's castle.
| |
| | |
| Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE bearing a torch before him
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| How goes the night, boy?
| |
| FLEANCE
| |
| The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| And she goes down at twelve.
| |
| FLEANCE
| |
| I take't, 'tis later, sir.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven;
| |
| Their candles are all out. Take thee that too.
| |
| A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
| |
| And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers,
| |
| Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
| |
| Gives way to in repose!
| |
| Enter MACBETH, and a Servant with a torch
| |
| | |
| Give me my sword.
| |
| Who's there?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| A friend.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's a-bed:
| |
| He hath been in unusual pleasure, and
| |
| Sent forth great largess to your offices.
| |
| This diamond he greets your wife withal,
| |
| By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up
| |
| In measureless content.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Being unprepared,
| |
| Our will became the servant to defect;
| |
| Which else should free have wrought.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| All's well.
| |
| I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:
| |
| To you they have show'd some truth.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| I think not of them:
| |
| Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,
| |
| We would spend it in some words upon that business,
| |
| If you would grant the time.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| At your kind'st leisure.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis,
| |
| It shall make honour for you.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| So I lose none
| |
| In seeking to augment it, but still keep
| |
| My bosom franchised and allegiance clear,
| |
| I shall be counsell'd.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Good repose the while!
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| Thanks, sir: the like to you!
| |
| Exeunt BANQUO and FLEANCE
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
| |
| She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.
| |
| Exit Servant
| |
| | |
| Is this a dagger which I see before me,
| |
| The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
| |
| I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
| |
| Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
| |
| To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
| |
| A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
| |
| Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
| |
| I see thee yet, in form as palpable
| |
| As this which now I draw.
| |
| Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
| |
| And such an instrument I was to use.
| |
| Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
| |
| Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
| |
| And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
| |
| Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
| |
| It is the bloody business which informs
| |
| Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one halfworld
| |
| Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
| |
| The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
| |
| Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,
| |
| Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
| |
| Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace.
| |
| With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
| |
| Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
| |
| Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
| |
| Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
| |
| And take the present horror from the time,
| |
| Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives:
| |
| Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
| |
| A bell rings
| |
| | |
| I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
| |
| Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
| |
| That summons thee to heaven or to hell.
| |
| Exit
| |
| | |
| SCENE II. The same.
| |
| | |
| Enter LADY MACBETH
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold;
| |
| What hath quench'd them hath given me fire.
| |
| Hark! Peace!
| |
| It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,
| |
| Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it:
| |
| The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms
| |
| Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd
| |
| their possets,
| |
| That death and nature do contend about them,
| |
| Whether they live or die.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| [Within] Who's there? what, ho!
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,
| |
| And 'tis not done. The attempt and not the deed
| |
| Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready;
| |
| He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled
| |
| My father as he slept, I had done't.
| |
| Enter MACBETH
| |
| | |
| My husband!
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.
| |
| Did not you speak?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| When?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Now.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| As I descended?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Ay.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Hark!
| |
| Who lies i' the second chamber?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Donalbain.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| This is a sorry sight.
| |
| Looking on his hands
| |
| | |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried
| |
| 'Murder!'
| |
| That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them:
| |
| But they did say their prayers, and address'd them
| |
| Again to sleep.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| There are two lodged together.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| One cried 'God bless us!' and 'Amen' the other;
| |
| As they had seen me with these hangman's hands.
| |
| Listening their fear, I could not say 'Amen,'
| |
| When they did say 'God bless us!'
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Consider it not so deeply.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'?
| |
| I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen'
| |
| Stuck in my throat.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| These deeds must not be thought
| |
| After these ways; so, it will make us mad.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more!
| |
| Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep,
| |
| Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care,
| |
| The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
| |
| Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
| |
| Chief nourisher in life's feast,--
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| What do you mean?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Still it cried 'Sleep no more!' to all the house:
| |
| 'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor
| |
| Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.'
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,
| |
| You do unbend your noble strength, to think
| |
| So brainsickly of things. Go get some water,
| |
| And wash this filthy witness from your hand.
| |
| Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
| |
| They must lie there: go carry them; and smear
| |
| The sleepy grooms with blood.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| I'll go no more:
| |
| I am afraid to think what I have done;
| |
| Look on't again I dare not.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Infirm of purpose!
| |
| Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead
| |
| Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood
| |
| That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
| |
| I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal;
| |
| For it must seem their guilt.
| |
| Exit. Knocking within
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| Whence is that knocking?
| |
| How is't with me, when every noise appals me?
| |
| What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes.
| |
| Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
| |
| Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
| |
| The multitudinous seas in incarnadine,
| |
| Making the green one red.
| |
| Re-enter LADY MACBETH
| |
| | |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| My hands are of your colour; but I shame
| |
| To wear a heart so white.
| |
| Knocking within
| |
| | |
| I hear a knocking
| |
| At the south entry: retire we to our chamber;
| |
| A little water clears us of this deed:
| |
| How easy is it, then! Your constancy
| |
| Hath left you unattended.
| |
| Knocking within
| |
| | |
| Hark! more knocking.
| |
| Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us,
| |
| And show us to be watchers. Be not lost
| |
| So poorly in your thoughts.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.
| |
| Knocking within
| |
| | |
| Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE III. The same.
| |
| | |
| Knocking within. Enter a Porter
| |
| Porter
| |
| Here's a knocking indeed! If a
| |
| man were porter of hell-gate, he should have
| |
| old turning the key.
| |
| Knocking within
| |
| | |
| Knock,
| |
| knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of
| |
| Beelzebub? Here's a farmer, that hanged
| |
| himself on the expectation of plenty: come in
| |
| time; have napkins enow about you; here
| |
| you'll sweat for't.
| |
| Knocking within
| |
| | |
| Knock,
| |
| knock! Who's there, in the other devil's
| |
| name? Faith, here's an equivocator, that could
| |
| swear in both the scales against either scale;
| |
| who committed treason enough for God's sake,
| |
| yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come
| |
| in, equivocator.
| |
| Knocking within
| |
| | |
| Knock,
| |
| knock, knock! Who's there? Faith, here's an
| |
| English tailor come hither, for stealing out of
| |
| a French hose: come in, tailor; here you may
| |
| roast your goose.
| |
| Knocking within
| |
| | |
| Knock,
| |
| knock; never at quiet! What are you? But
| |
| this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter
| |
| it no further: I had thought to have let in
| |
| some of all professions that go the primrose
| |
| way to the everlasting bonfire.
| |
| Knocking within
| |
| | |
| Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.
| |
| Opens the gate
| |
| | |
| Enter MACDUFF and LENNOX
| |
| | |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
| |
| That you do lie so late?
| |
| Porter
| |
| 'Faith sir, we were carousing till the
| |
| second cock: and drink, sir, is a great
| |
| provoker of three things.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| What three things does drink especially provoke?
| |
| Porter
| |
| Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and
| |
| urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes;
| |
| it provokes the desire, but it takes
| |
| away the performance: therefore, much drink
| |
| may be said to be an equivocator with lechery:
| |
| it makes him, and it mars him; it sets
| |
| him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him,
| |
| and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and
| |
| not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him
| |
| in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.
| |
| Porter
| |
| That it did, sir, i' the very throat on
| |
| me: but I requited him for his lie; and, I
| |
| think, being too strong for him, though he took
| |
| up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast
| |
| him.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Is thy master stirring?
| |
| Enter MACBETH
| |
| | |
| Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes.
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| Good morrow, noble sir.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Good morrow, both.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Is the king stirring, worthy thane?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Not yet.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| He did command me to call timely on him:
| |
| I have almost slipp'd the hour.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| I'll bring you to him.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| I know this is a joyful trouble to you;
| |
| But yet 'tis one.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| The labour we delight in physics pain.
| |
| This is the door.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| I'll make so bold to call,
| |
| For 'tis my limited service.
| |
| Exit
| |
| | |
| LENNOX
| |
| Goes the king hence to-day?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| He does: he did appoint so.
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| The night has been unruly: where we lay,
| |
| Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say,
| |
| Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death,
| |
| And prophesying with accents terrible
| |
| Of dire combustion and confused events
| |
| New hatch'd to the woeful time: the obscure bird
| |
| Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth
| |
| Was feverous and did shake.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 'Twas a rough night.
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| My young remembrance cannot parallel
| |
| A fellow to it.
| |
| Re-enter MACDUFF
| |
| | |
| MACDUFF
| |
| O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart
| |
| Cannot conceive nor name thee!
| |
| MACBETH LENNOX
| |
| What's the matter.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
| |
| Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
| |
| The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
| |
| The life o' the building!
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| What is 't you say? the life?
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| Mean you his majesty?
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
| |
| With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak;
| |
| See, and then speak yourselves.
| |
| Exeunt MACBETH and LENNOX
| |
| | |
| Awake, awake!
| |
| Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason!
| |
| Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!
| |
| Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
| |
| And look on death itself! up, up, and see
| |
| The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!
| |
| As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,
| |
| To countenance this horror! Ring the bell.
| |
| Bell rings
| |
| | |
| Enter LADY MACBETH
| |
| | |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| What's the business,
| |
| That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
| |
| The sleepers of the house? speak, speak!
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| O gentle lady,
| |
| 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
| |
| The repetition, in a woman's ear,
| |
| Would murder as it fell.
| |
| Enter BANQUO
| |
| | |
| O Banquo, Banquo,
| |
| Our royal master 's murder'd!
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Woe, alas!
| |
| What, in our house?
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| Too cruel any where.
| |
| Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself,
| |
| And say it is not so.
| |
| Re-enter MACBETH and LENNOX, with ROSS
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| Had I but died an hour before this chance,
| |
| I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant,
| |
| There 's nothing serious in mortality:
| |
| All is but toys: renown and grace is dead;
| |
| The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
| |
| Is left this vault to brag of.
| |
| Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN
| |
| | |
| DONALBAIN
| |
| What is amiss?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| You are, and do not know't:
| |
| The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
| |
| Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Your royal father 's murder'd.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| O, by whom?
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done 't:
| |
| Their hands and faces were an badged with blood;
| |
| So were their daggers, which unwiped we found
| |
| Upon their pillows:
| |
| They stared, and were distracted; no man's life
| |
| Was to be trusted with them.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
| |
| That I did kill them.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Wherefore did you so?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,
| |
| Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:
| |
| The expedition my violent love
| |
| Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan,
| |
| His silver skin laced with his golden blood;
| |
| And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature
| |
| For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
| |
| Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
| |
| Unmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refrain,
| |
| That had a heart to love, and in that heart
| |
| Courage to make 's love kno wn?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Help me hence, ho!
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Look to the lady.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| [Aside to DONALBAIN] Why do we hold our tongues,
| |
| That most may claim this argument for ours?
| |
| DONALBAIN
| |
| [Aside to MALCOLM] What should be spoken here,
| |
| where our fate,
| |
| Hid in an auger-hole, may rush, and seize us?
| |
| Let 's away;
| |
| Our tears are not yet brew'd.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| [Aside to DONALBAIN] Nor our strong sorrow
| |
| Upon the foot of motion.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| Look to the lady:
| |
| LADY MACBETH is carried out
| |
| | |
| And when we have our naked frailties hid,
| |
| That suffer in exposure, let us meet,
| |
| And question this most bloody piece of work,
| |
| To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us:
| |
| In the great hand of God I stand; and thence
| |
| Against the undivulged pretence I fight
| |
| Of treasonous malice.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| And so do I.
| |
| ALL
| |
| So all.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
| |
| And meet i' the hall together.
| |
| ALL
| |
| Well contented.
| |
| Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.
| |
| | |
| MALCOLM
| |
| What will you do? Let's not consort with them:
| |
| To show an unfelt sorrow is an office
| |
| Which the false man does easy. I'll to England.
| |
| DONALBAIN
| |
| To Ireland, I; our separated fortune
| |
| Shall keep us both the safer: where we are,
| |
| There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood,
| |
| The nearer bloody.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| This murderous shaft that's shot
| |
| Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way
| |
| Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse;
| |
| And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,
| |
| But shift away: there's warrant in that theft
| |
| Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE IV. Outside Macbeth's castle.
| |
| | |
| Enter ROSS and an old Man
| |
| Old Man
| |
| Threescore and ten I can remember well:
| |
| Within the volume of which time I have seen
| |
| Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night
| |
| Hath trifled former knowings.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Ah, good father,
| |
| Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
| |
| Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day,
| |
| And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
| |
| Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame,
| |
| That darkness does the face of earth entomb,
| |
| When living light should kiss it?
| |
| Old Man
| |
| 'Tis unnatural,
| |
| Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
| |
| A falcon, towering in her pride of place,
| |
| Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| And Duncan's horses--a thing most strange and certain--
| |
| Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,
| |
| Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
| |
| Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make
| |
| War with mankind.
| |
| Old Man
| |
| 'Tis said they eat each other.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes
| |
| That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Macduff.
| |
| Enter MACDUFF
| |
| | |
| How goes the world, sir, now?
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Why, see you not?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Is't known who did this more than bloody deed?
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Those that Macbeth hath slain.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Alas, the day!
| |
| What good could they pretend?
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| They were suborn'd:
| |
| Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's two sons,
| |
| Are stol'n away and fled; which puts upon them
| |
| Suspicion of the deed.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| 'Gainst nature still!
| |
| Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up
| |
| Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like
| |
| The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| He is already named, and gone to Scone
| |
| To be invested.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Where is Duncan's body?
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Carried to Colmekill,
| |
| The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
| |
| And guardian of their bones.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Will you to Scone?
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| No, cousin, I'll to Fife.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Well, I will thither.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Well, may you see things well done there: adieu!
| |
| Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Farewell, father.
| |
| Old Man
| |
| God's benison go with you; and with those
| |
| That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| | |
| ACT III
| |
| | |
| SCENE I. Forres. The palace.
| |
| | |
| Enter BANQUO
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
| |
| As the weird women promised, and, I fear,
| |
| Thou play'dst most foully for't: yet it was said
| |
| It should not stand in thy posterity,
| |
| But that myself should be the root and father
| |
| Of many kings. If there come truth from them--
| |
| As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine--
| |
| Why, by the verities on thee made good,
| |
| May they not be my oracles as well,
| |
| And set me up in hope? But hush! no more.
| |
| Sennet sounded. Enter MACBETH, as king, LADY MACBETH, as queen, LENNOX, ROSS, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| Here's our chief guest.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| If he had been forgotten,
| |
| It had been as a gap in our great feast,
| |
| And all-thing unbecoming.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| To-night we hold a solemn supper sir,
| |
| And I'll request your presence.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| Let your highness
| |
| Command upon me; to the which my duties
| |
| Are with a most indissoluble tie
| |
| For ever knit.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Ride you this afternoon?
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| Ay, my good lord.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| We should have else desired your good advice,
| |
| Which still hath been both grave and prosperous,
| |
| In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow.
| |
| Is't far you ride?
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| As far, my lord, as will fill up the time
| |
| 'Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better,
| |
| I must become a borrower of the night
| |
| For a dark hour or twain.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Fail not our feast.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| My lord, I will not.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd
| |
| In England and in Ireland, not confessing
| |
| Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers
| |
| With strange invention: but of that to-morrow,
| |
| When therewithal we shall have cause of state
| |
| Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu,
| |
| Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you?
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon 's.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| I wish your horses swift and sure of foot;
| |
| And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell.
| |
| Exit BANQUO
| |
| | |
| Let every man be master of his time
| |
| Till seven at night: to make society
| |
| The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself
| |
| Till supper-time alone: while then, God be with you!
| |
| Exeunt all but MACBETH, and an attendant
| |
| | |
| Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men
| |
| Our pleasure?
| |
| ATTENDANT
| |
| They are, my lord, without the palace gate.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Bring them before us.
| |
| Exit Attendant
| |
| | |
| To be thus is nothing;
| |
| But to be safely thus.--Our fears in Banquo
| |
| Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature
| |
| Reigns that which would be fear'd: 'tis much he dares;
| |
| And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,
| |
| He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
| |
| To act in safety. There is none but he
| |
| Whose being I do fear: and, under him,
| |
| My Genius is rebuked; as, it is said,
| |
| Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters
| |
| When first they put the name of king upon me,
| |
| And bade them speak to him: then prophet-like
| |
| They hail'd him father to a line of kings:
| |
| Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,
| |
| And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,
| |
| Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand,
| |
| No son of mine succeeding. If 't be so,
| |
| For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind;
| |
| For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd;
| |
| Put rancours in the vessel of my peace
| |
| Only for them; and mine eternal jewel
| |
| Given to the common enemy of man,
| |
| To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings!
| |
| Rather than so, come fate into the list.
| |
| And champion me to the utterance! Who's there!
| |
| Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers
| |
| | |
| Now go to the door, and stay there till we call.
| |
| Exit Attendant
| |
| | |
| Was it not yesterday we spoke together?
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| It was, so please your highness.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Well then, now
| |
| Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know
| |
| That it was he in the times past which held you
| |
| So under fortune, which you thought had been
| |
| Our innocent self: this I made good to you
| |
| In our last conference, pass'd in probation with you,
| |
| How you were borne in hand, how cross'd,
| |
| the instruments,
| |
| Who wrought with them, and all things else that might
| |
| To half a soul and to a notion crazed
| |
| Say 'Thus did Banquo.'
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| You made it known to us.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| I did so, and went further, which is now
| |
| Our point of second meeting. Do you find
| |
| Your patience so predominant in your nature
| |
| That you can let this go? Are you so gospell'd
| |
| To pray for this good man and for his issue,
| |
| Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave
| |
| And beggar'd yours for ever?
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| We are men, my liege.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men;
| |
| As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,
| |
| Shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves, are clept
| |
| All by the name of dogs: the valued file
| |
| Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
| |
| The housekeeper, the hunter, every one
| |
| According to the gift which bounteous nature
| |
| Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive
| |
| Particular addition. from the bill
| |
| That writes them all alike: and so of men.
| |
| Now, if you have a station in the file,
| |
| Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say 't;
| |
| And I will put that business in your bosoms,
| |
| Whose execution takes your enemy off,
| |
| Grapples you to the heart and love of us,
| |
| Who wear our health but sickly in his life,
| |
| Which in his death were perfect.
| |
| Second Murderer
| |
| I am one, my liege,
| |
| Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
| |
| Have so incensed that I am reckless what
| |
| I do to spite the world.
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| And I another
| |
| So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,
| |
| That I would set my lie on any chance,
| |
| To mend it, or be rid on't.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Both of you
| |
| Know Banquo was your enemy.
| |
| Both Murderers
| |
| True, my lord.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| So is he mine; and in such bloody distance,
| |
| That every minute of his being thrusts
| |
| Against my near'st of life: and though I could
| |
| With barefaced 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
| |
| Who 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.
| |
| Second Murderer
| |
| We shall, my lord,
| |
| Perform what you command us.
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| Though our lives--
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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 botches 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.
| |
| Both Murderers
| |
| We are resolved, my lord.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| I'll call upon you straight: abide within.
| |
| Exeunt Murderers
| |
| | |
| It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight,
| |
| If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.
| |
| Exit
| |
| | |
| SCENE II. The palace.
| |
| | |
| Enter LADY MACBETH and a Servant
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Is Banquo gone from court?
| |
| Servant
| |
| Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Say to the king, I would attend his leisure
| |
| For a few words.
| |
| Servant
| |
| Madam, I will.
| |
| Exit
| |
| | |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Nought's had, all's spent,
| |
| Where our desire is got without content:
| |
| 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy
| |
| Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
| |
| Enter MACBETH
| |
| | |
| How now, my lord! why do you keep alone,
| |
| Of sorriest fancies your companions making,
| |
| Using those thoughts which should indeed have died
| |
| With them they think on? Things without all remedy
| |
| Should be without regard: what's done is done.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it:
| |
| She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice
| |
| Remains in danger of her former tooth.
| |
| 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 peace, have sent to peace,
| |
| Than on the torture of the mind to lie
| |
| In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
| |
| After life's fitful fever he sleeps well;
| |
| Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
| |
| Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
| |
| Can touch him further.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Come on;
| |
| Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;
| |
| Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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,
| |
| And make our faces vizards to our hearts,
| |
| Disguising what they are.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| You must leave this.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
| |
| Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| But in them nature's copy's not eterne.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| There's comfort yet; they are assailable;
| |
| Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown
| |
| His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons
| |
| The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums
| |
| Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
| |
| A deed of dreadful note.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| What's to be done?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
| |
| Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night,
| |
| Scarf 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 crow
| |
| Makes wing to the rooky wood:
| |
| Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;
| |
| While night's black agents to their preys do rouse.
| |
| Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still;
| |
| Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
| |
| So, prithee, go with me.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE III. A park near the palace.
| |
| | |
| Enter three Murderers
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| But who did bid thee join with us?
| |
| Third Murderer
| |
| Macbeth.
| |
| Second Murderer
| |
| He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers
| |
| Our offices and what we have to do
| |
| To the direction just.
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| 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.
| |
| Third Murderer
| |
| Hark! I hear horses.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| [Within] Give us a light there, ho!
| |
| Second Murderer
| |
| Then 'tis he: the rest
| |
| That are within the note of expectation
| |
| Already are i' the court.
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| His horses go about.
| |
| Third Murderer
| |
| Almost a mile: but he does usually,
| |
| So all men do, from hence to the palace gate
| |
| Make it their walk.
| |
| Second Murderer
| |
| A light, a light!
| |
| Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE with a torch
| |
| | |
| Third Murderer
| |
| 'Tis he.
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| Stand to't.
| |
| BANQUO
| |
| It will be rain to-night.
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| Let it come down.
| |
| They set upon BANQUO
| |
| | |
| BANQUO
| |
| O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!
| |
| Thou mayst revenge. O slave!
| |
| Dies. FLEANCE escapes
| |
| | |
| Third Murderer
| |
| Who did strike out the light?
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| Wast not the way?
| |
| Third Murderer
| |
| There's but one down; the son is fled.
| |
| Second Murderer
| |
| We have lost
| |
| Best half of our affair.
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| Well, let's away, and say how much is done.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE IV. The same. Hall in the palace.
| |
| | |
| A banquet prepared. Enter MACBETH, LADY MACBETH, ROSS, LENNOX, Lords, and Attendants
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| You know your own degrees; sit down: at first
| |
| And last the hearty welcome.
| |
| Lords
| |
| Thanks to your majesty.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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 MACBETH
| |
| Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;
| |
| For my heart speaks they are welcome.
| |
| First Murderer appears at the door
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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.
| |
| Approaching the door
| |
| | |
| There's blood on thy face.
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| 'Tis Banquo's then.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 'Tis better thee without than he within.
| |
| Is he dispatch'd?
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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.
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| Most royal sir,
| |
| Fleance is 'scaped.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Then comes my fit again: I had else been 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, confined, bound in
| |
| To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe?
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
| |
| With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
| |
| The least a death to nature.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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
| |
| We'll hear, ourselves, again.
| |
| Exit Murderer
| |
| | |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| My royal lord,
| |
| You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold
| |
| That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a-making,
| |
| 'Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home;
| |
| From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony;
| |
| Meeting were bare without it.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Sweet remembrancer!
| |
| Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
| |
| And health on both!
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| May't please your highness sit.
| |
| The GHOST OF BANQUO enters, and sits in MACBETH's place
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,
| |
| Were the graced person of our Banquo present;
| |
| Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
| |
| Than pity for mischance!
| |
| ROSS
| |
| His absence, sir,
| |
| Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness
| |
| To grace us with your royal company.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| The table's full.
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| Here is a place reserved, sir.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Where?
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your highness?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Which of you have done this?
| |
| Lords
| |
| What, my good lord?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Thou canst not say I did it: never shake
| |
| Thy gory locks at me.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| 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?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
| |
| Which might appal the devil.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| 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,
| |
| Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!
| |
| Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
| |
| You look but on a stool.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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
| |
| Shall be the maws of kites.
| |
| GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes
| |
| | |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| What, quite unmann'd in folly?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| If I stand here, I saw him.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Fie, for shame!
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,
| |
| Ere human statute purged 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 MACBETH
| |
| My worthy lord,
| |
| Your noble friends do lack you.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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 o' the whole table,
| |
| And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;
| |
| Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
| |
| And all to all.
| |
| Lords
| |
| Our duties, and the pledge.
| |
| Re-enter GHOST OF BANQUO
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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 MACBETH
| |
| Think of this, good peers,
| |
| But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
| |
| Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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 inhabit then, protest me
| |
| The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!
| |
| Unreal mockery, hence!
| |
| GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes
| |
| | |
| Why, so: being gone,
| |
| I am a man again. Pray you, sit still.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,
| |
| With most admired disorder.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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 is blanched with fear.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| What sights, my lord?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| 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.
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| Good night; and better health
| |
| Attend his majesty!
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| A kind good night to all!
| |
| Exeunt all but MACBETH and LADY MACBETH
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood:
| |
| Stones have been known to move and trees to 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 MACBETH
| |
| Almost at odds with morning, which is which.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person
| |
| At our great bidding?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Did you send to him, sir?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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,
| |
| And betimes I will, to 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
| |
| Stepp'd 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 MACBETH
| |
| You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE V. A Heath.
| |
| | |
| Thunder. Enter the three Witches meeting HECATE
| |
| First Witch
| |
| Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly.
| |
| HECATE
| |
| Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
| |
| Saucy and overbold? 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 and a 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 sleights
| |
| Shall raise such artificial sprites
| |
| As by the strength of their illusion
| |
| Shall draw him on to his confusion:
| |
| He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
| |
| He hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear:
| |
| And you all know, security
| |
| Is mortals' chiefest enemy.
| |
| Music and a 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.
| |
| Exit
| |
| | |
| First Witch
| |
| Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE VI. Forres. The palace.
| |
| | |
| Enter LENNOX and another Lord
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,
| |
| Which can interpret further: only, I say,
| |
| Things have been strangely borne. The
| |
| gracious Duncan
| |
| Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead:
| |
| And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;
| |
| Whom, you may say, if't 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't. So that, I say,
| |
| He has borne all things well: and I do think
| |
| That had he Duncan's sons 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 received
| |
| 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, upon 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.
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| 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.'
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| 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 accursed!
| |
| Lord
| |
| I'll send my prayers with him.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| | |
| ACT IV
| |
| | |
| SCENE I. A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.
| |
| | |
| Thunder. Enter the three Witches
| |
| First Witch
| |
| Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
| |
| Second Witch
| |
| Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.
| |
| Third Witch
| |
| Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time.
| |
| First Witch
| |
| Round about the cauldron go;
| |
| In the poison'd entrails throw.
| |
| Toad, that under cold stone
| |
| Days and nights has 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.
| |
| Second 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.
| |
| Third 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
| |
| Silver'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.
| |
| Second Witch
| |
| Cool it with a baboon's blood,
| |
| Then the charm is firm and good.
| |
| Enter HECATE to the other three Witches
| |
| | |
| HECATE
| |
| O well done! I commend your pains;
| |
| And every one shall share i' the gains;
| |
| And now about the cauldron sing,
| |
| Live elves and fairies in a ring,
| |
| Enchanting all that you put in.
| |
| Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' & c
| |
| | |
| HECATE retires
| |
| | |
| Second Witch
| |
| By the pricking of my thumbs,
| |
| Something wicked this way comes.
| |
| Open, locks,
| |
| Whoever knocks!
| |
| Enter MACBETH
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!
| |
| What is't you do?
| |
| ALL
| |
| A deed without a name.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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 lodged 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 germens tumble all together,
| |
| Even till destruction sicken; answer me
| |
| To what I ask you.
| |
| First Witch
| |
| Speak.
| |
| Second Witch
| |
| Demand.
| |
| Third Witch
| |
| We'll answer.
| |
| First Witch
| |
| Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,
| |
| Or from our masters?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Call 'em; let me see 'em.
| |
| First Witch
| |
| Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
| |
| Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten
| |
| From the murderer's gibbet throw
| |
| Into the flame.
| |
| ALL
| |
| Come, high or low;
| |
| Thyself and office deftly show!
| |
| Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| Tell me, thou unknown power,--
| |
| First Witch
| |
| He knows thy thought:
| |
| Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
| |
| First Apparition
| |
| Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;
| |
| Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.
| |
| Descends
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;
| |
| Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one
| |
| word more,--
| |
| First Witch
| |
| He will not be commanded: here's another,
| |
| More potent than the first.
| |
| Thunder. Second Apparition: A bloody Child
| |
| | |
| Second Apparition
| |
| Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee.
| |
| Second Apparition
| |
| Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn
| |
| The power of man, for none of woman born
| |
| Shall harm Macbeth.
| |
| Descends
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| Then live, Macduff: what 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.
| |
| Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand
| |
| | |
| What is this
| |
| That rises like the issue of a king,
| |
| And wears upon his baby-brow the round
| |
| And top of sovereignty?
| |
| ALL
| |
| Listen, but speak not to't.
| |
| Third Apparition
| |
| Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
| |
| Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
| |
| Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
| |
| Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
| |
| Shall come against him.
| |
| Descends
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| That will never be
| |
| Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
| |
| Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
| |
| Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood
| |
| Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
| |
| Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
| |
| 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.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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
| |
| | |
| First Witch
| |
| Show!
| |
| Second Witch
| |
| Show!
| |
| Third Witch
| |
| Show!
| |
| ALL
| |
| Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
| |
| Come like shadows, so depart!
| |
| A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand; GHOST OF BANQUO following
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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?
| |
| 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 scepters carry:
| |
| Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true;
| |
| For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
| |
| And points at them for his.
| |
| Apparitions vanish
| |
| | |
| What, is this so?
| |
| First Witch
| |
| Ay, sir, all this is so: but why
| |
| Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
| |
| Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,
| |
| And show the best of our delights:
| |
| I'll charm the air to give a sound,
| |
| While you perform your antic round:
| |
| That this great king may kindly say,
| |
| Our duties did his welcome pay.
| |
| Music. The witches dance and then vanish, with HECATE
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour
| |
| Stand aye accursed in the calendar!
| |
| Come in, without there!
| |
| Enter LENNOX
| |
| | |
| LENNOX
| |
| What's your grace's will?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Saw you the weird sisters?
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| No, my lord.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Came they not by you?
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| No, indeed, my lord.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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?
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word
| |
| Macduff is fled to England.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Fled to England!
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| Ay, my good lord.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Time, thou anticipatest 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 him in 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
| |
| | |
| SCENE II. Fife. Macduff's castle.
| |
| | |
| Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSS
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| What had he done, to make him fly the land?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| You must have patience, madam.
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| He had none:
| |
| His flight was madness: when our actions do not,
| |
| Our fears do make us traitors.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| You know not
| |
| Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave 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.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| 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 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!
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| 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
| |
| | |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Sirrah, your father's dead;
| |
| And what will you do now? How will you live?
| |
| Son
| |
| As birds do, mother.
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| What, with worms and flies?
| |
| Son
| |
| With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime,
| |
| The pitfall nor the gin.
| |
| Son
| |
| Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
| |
| My father is not dead, for all your saying.
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?
| |
| Son
| |
| Nay, how will you do for a husband?
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.
| |
| Son
| |
| Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith,
| |
| With wit enough for thee.
| |
| Son
| |
| Was my father a traitor, mother?
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Ay, that he was.
| |
| Son
| |
| What is a traitor?
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Why, one that swears and lies.
| |
| Son
| |
| And be all traitors that do so?
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.
| |
| Son
| |
| And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Every one.
| |
| Son
| |
| Who must hang them?
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Why, the honest men.
| |
| Son
| |
| Then the liars and swearers are fools,
| |
| for there are liars and swearers enow to beat
| |
| the honest men and hang up them.
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Now, God help thee, poor monkey!
| |
| But how wilt thou do for a father?
| |
| Son
| |
| If he were dead, you'ld weep for
| |
| him: if you would not, it were a good sign
| |
| that I should quickly have a new father.
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!
| |
| Enter a Messenger
| |
| | |
| Messenger
| |
| 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!
| |
| I dare abide no longer.
| |
| Exit
| |
| | |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| Whither should I fly?
| |
| 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?
| |
| Enter Murderers
| |
| | |
| What are these faces?
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| Where is your husband?
| |
| LADY MACDUFF
| |
| I hope, in no place so unsanctified
| |
| Where such as thou mayst find him.
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| He's a traitor.
| |
| Son
| |
| Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!
| |
| First Murderer
| |
| 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!' Exeunt Murderers, following her
| |
| | |
| SCENE III. England. Before the King's palace.
| |
| | |
| Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
| |
| Weep our sad bosoms empty.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| 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
| |
| Like syllable of dolour.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| 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 loved 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.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| I am not treacherous.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| But Macbeth is.
| |
| A good and virtuous nature may recoil
| |
| In an imperial charge. But I shall crave
| |
| your pardon;
| |
| That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose:
| |
| Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;
| |
| Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
| |
| Yet grace must still look so.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| I have lost my hopes.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| 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.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Bleed, bleed, poor country!
| |
| Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure,
| |
| For goodness dare not cheque thee: wear thou
| |
| thy wrongs;
| |
| The 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 grasp,
| |
| And the rich East to boot.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Be not offended:
| |
| I speak not as in 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;
| |
| And here from gracious England have I offer
| |
| Of goodly thousands: but, for all this,
| |
| 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.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| What should he be?
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| It is myself I mean: in whom I know
| |
| All the particulars of vice so grafted
| |
| That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
| |
| Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state
| |
| Esteem him as a lamb, being compared
| |
| With my confineless harms.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Not in the legions
| |
| Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd
| |
| In evils to top Macbeth.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| 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'erbear
| |
| That did oppose my will: better Macbeth
| |
| Than such an one to reign.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| 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 hoodwink.
| |
| 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 inclined.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| With this there grows
| |
| In my most ill-composed 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.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| This avarice
| |
| Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root
| |
| Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been
| |
| The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear;
| |
| Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will.
| |
| Of your mere own: all these are portable,
| |
| With other graces weigh'd.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| But I have none: the king-becoming graces,
| |
| 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,
| |
| Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
| |
| Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
| |
| Uproar the universal peace, confound
| |
| All unity on earth.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| O Scotland, Scotland!
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| If such a one be fit to govern, speak:
| |
| I am as I have spoken.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| 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 accursed,
| |
| And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father
| |
| Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee,
| |
| Oftener 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 breast,
| |
| Thy hope ends here!
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Macduff, this noble passion,
| |
| Child of integrity, hath from my soul
| |
| Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts
| |
| To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
| |
| 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
| |
| No less in truth than life: my first false speaking
| |
| 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,
| |
| Already at a point, was setting forth.
| |
| Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness
| |
| Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
| |
| 'Tis hard to reconcile.
| |
| Enter a Doctor
| |
| | |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Well; more anon.--Comes the king forth, I pray you?
| |
| Doctor
| |
| Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls
| |
| That stay his cure: their malady convinces
| |
| The great assay of art; but at his touch--
| |
| Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand--
| |
| They presently amend.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| I thank you, doctor.
| |
| Exit Doctor
| |
| | |
| MACDUFF
| |
| What's the disease he means?
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| 'Tis call'd the evil:
| |
| A most miraculous work in this good king;
| |
| Which often, since my here-remain in England,
| |
| I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
| |
| Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
| |
| All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
| |
| The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
| |
| Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
| |
| Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
| |
| To the succeeding royalty he leaves
| |
| The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
| |
| He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,
| |
| And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
| |
| That speak him full of grace.
| |
| Enter ROSS
| |
| | |
| MACDUFF
| |
| See, who comes here?
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| My countryman; but yet I know him not.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| I know him now. Good God, betimes remove
| |
| The means that makes us strangers!
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Sir, amen.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Stands Scotland where it did?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| 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 smile;
| |
| Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air
| |
| Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
| |
| A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell
| |
| Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives
| |
| Expire before the flowers in their caps,
| |
| Dying or ere they sicken.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| O, relation
| |
| Too nice, and yet too true!
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| What's the newest grief?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker:
| |
| Each minute teems a new one.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| How does my wife?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Why, well.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| And all my children?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Well too.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| But not a niggard of your speech: how goes't?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| 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.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Be't 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.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| 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.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| What concern they?
| |
| The general cause? or is it a fee-grief
| |
| Due to some single breast?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| No mind that's honest
| |
| But in it shares some woe; though the main part
| |
| Pertains to you alone.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| If it be mine,
| |
| Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
| |
| Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
| |
| That ever yet they heard.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Hum! I guess at it.
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Your castle is surprised; 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.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Merciful heaven!
| |
| What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
| |
| Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
| |
| Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| My children too?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Wife, children, servants, all
| |
| That could be found.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| And I must be from thence!
| |
| My wife kill'd too?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| I have said.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Be comforted:
| |
| Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,
| |
| To cure this deadly grief.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| 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?
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Dispute it like a man.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| I shall do so;
| |
| But I must also feel it as a man:
| |
| I cannot but remember such things were,
| |
| That were most 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!
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
| |
| Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| O, I could play the woman with mine eyes
| |
| And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens,
| |
| 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!
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| 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.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| | |
| ACT V
| |
| | |
| SCENE I. Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle.
| |
| | |
| Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman
| |
| Doctor
| |
| I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive
| |
| no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?
| |
| Gentlewoman
| |
| Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen
| |
| her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon
| |
| her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it,
| |
| write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again
| |
| return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once
| |
| the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of
| |
| watching! In this slumbery agitation, besides her
| |
| walking and other actual performances, what, at any
| |
| time, have you heard her say?
| |
| Gentlewoman
| |
| That, sir, which I will not report after her.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| You may to me: and 'tis most meet you should.
| |
| Gentlewoman
| |
| 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.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| How came she by that light?
| |
| Gentlewoman
| |
| Why, it stood by her: she has light by her
| |
| continually; 'tis her command.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| You see, her eyes are open.
| |
| Gentlewoman
| |
| Ay, but their sense is shut.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.
| |
| Gentlewoman
| |
| 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 MACBETH
| |
| Yet here's a spot.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| Hark! she speaks: I will set down what comes from
| |
| her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| 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 afeard? 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.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| Do you mark that?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| 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.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.
| |
| Gentlewoman
| |
| She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of
| |
| that: heaven knows what she has known.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Here's the smell of the blood still: all the
| |
| perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little
| |
| hand. Oh, oh, oh!
| |
| Doctor
| |
| What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.
| |
| Gentlewoman
| |
| I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the
| |
| dignity of the whole body.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| Well, well, well,--
| |
| Gentlewoman
| |
| Pray God it be, sir.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| This disease is beyond my practise: yet I have known
| |
| those which have walked in their sleep who have died
| |
| holily in their beds.
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so
| |
| pale.--I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he
| |
| cannot come out on's grave.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| Even so?
| |
| LADY MACBETH
| |
| 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
| |
| | |
| Doctor
| |
| Will she go now to bed?
| |
| Gentlewoman
| |
| Directly.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds
| |
| Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds
| |
| To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets:
| |
| More needs she the divine than the physician.
| |
| 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:
| |
| My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight.
| |
| I think, but dare not speak.
| |
| Gentlewoman
| |
| Good night, good doctor.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE II. The country near Dunsinane.
| |
| | |
| Drum and colours. Enter MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, and Soldiers
| |
| MENTEITH
| |
| 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.
| |
| ANGUS
| |
| Near Birnam wood
| |
| Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.
| |
| CAITHNESS
| |
| Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file
| |
| Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son,
| |
| And many unrough youths that even now
| |
| Protest their first of manhood.
| |
| MENTEITH
| |
| What does the tyrant?
| |
| CAITHNESS
| |
| Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
| |
| Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him
| |
| Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
| |
| He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
| |
| Within the belt of rule.
| |
| ANGUS
| |
| Now does he feel
| |
| His secret murders sticking on his hands;
| |
| Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
| |
| Those he commands move only in command,
| |
| Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
| |
| Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
| |
| Upon a dwarfish thief.
| |
| MENTEITH
| |
| Who then shall blame
| |
| His pester'd senses to recoil and start,
| |
| When all that is within him does condemn
| |
| Itself for being there?
| |
| CAITHNESS
| |
| Well, march we on,
| |
| To give obedience where 'tis truly owed:
| |
| Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal,
| |
| And with him pour we in our country's purge
| |
| Each drop of us.
| |
| LENNOX
| |
| Or so much as it needs,
| |
| To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds.
| |
| Make we our march towards Birnam.
| |
| Exeunt, marching
| |
| | |
| SCENE III. Dunsinane. A room in the castle.
| |
| | |
| Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
| |
| Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
| |
| I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
| |
| Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
| |
| All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:
| |
| 'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman
| |
| Shall e'er have power upon 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 fear.
| |
| Enter a Servant
| |
| | |
| The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
| |
| Where got'st thou that goose look?
| |
| Servant
| |
| There is ten thousand--
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Geese, villain!
| |
| Servant
| |
| Soldiers, sir.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| 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?
| |
| Servant
| |
| The English force, so please you.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Take thy face hence.
| |
| Exit Servant
| |
| | |
| Seyton!--I am sick at heart,
| |
| When I behold--Seyton, I say!--This push
| |
| Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
| |
| I have lived 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,
| |
| Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton!
| |
| Enter SEYTON
| |
| | |
| SEYTON
| |
| What is your gracious pleasure?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| What news more?
| |
| SEYTON
| |
| All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
| |
| Give me my armour.
| |
| SEYTON
| |
| 'Tis not needed yet.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| I'll put it on.
| |
| Send out more horses; skirr the country round;
| |
| Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.
| |
| How does your patient, doctor?
| |
| Doctor
| |
| Not so sick, my lord,
| |
| As she is troubled with thick coming fancies,
| |
| That keep her from her rest.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Cure her of that.
| |
| Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
| |
| 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?
| |
| Doctor
| |
| Therein the patient
| |
| Must minister to himself.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
| |
| Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff.
| |
| Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.
| |
| Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast
| |
| 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, cyme, or what purgative drug,
| |
| Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?
| |
| Doctor
| |
| Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
| |
| Makes us hear something.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Bring it after me.
| |
| I will not be afraid of death and bane,
| |
| Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.
| |
| Doctor
| |
| [Aside] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
| |
| Profit again should hardly draw me here.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE IV. Country near Birnam wood.
| |
| | |
| Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD and YOUNG SIWARD, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, ROSS, and Soldiers, marching
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand
| |
| That chambers will be safe.
| |
| MENTEITH
| |
| We doubt it nothing.
| |
| SIWARD
| |
| What wood is this before us?
| |
| MENTEITH
| |
| The wood of Birnam.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Let every soldier hew him down a bough
| |
| And bear't before him: thereby shall we shadow
| |
| The numbers of our host and make discovery
| |
| Err in report of us.
| |
| Soldiers
| |
| It shall be done.
| |
| SIWARD
| |
| We learn no other but the confident tyrant
| |
| Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
| |
| Our setting down before 't.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| 'Tis his main hope:
| |
| For where there is advantage to be given,
| |
| Both more and less have given him the revolt,
| |
| And none serve with him but constrained things
| |
| Whose hearts are absent too.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Let our just censures
| |
| Attend the true event, and put we on
| |
| Industrious soldiership.
| |
| SIWARD
| |
| The time approaches
| |
| That will with due decision make us know
| |
| What we shall say we have and what we owe.
| |
| Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate,
| |
| But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:
| |
| Towards which advance the war.
| |
| Exeunt, marching
| |
| | |
| SCENE V. Dunsinane. Within the castle.
| |
| | |
| Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum and colours
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
| |
| The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength
| |
| Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie
| |
| Till famine and the ague eat them up:
| |
| Were they not forced with those that should be ours,
| |
| We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
| |
| And beat them backward home.
| |
| A cry of women within
| |
| | |
| What is that noise?
| |
| SEYTON
| |
| It is the cry of women, my good lord.
| |
| Exit
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| I have almost forgot the taste of fears;
| |
| The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
| |
| To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
| |
| Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
| |
| As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors;
| |
| Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
| |
| Cannot once start me.
| |
| Re-enter SEYTON
| |
| | |
| Wherefore was that cry?
| |
| SEYTON
| |
| The queen, my lord, is dead.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| She should have died hereafter;
| |
| There would have been a time for such a word.
| |
| To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
| |
| Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
| |
| To the last syllable of recorded time,
| |
| And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
| |
| The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
| |
| Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
| |
| That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
| |
| And then is heard no more: it is a tale
| |
| Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
| |
| Signifying nothing.
| |
| Enter a Messenger
| |
| | |
| Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
| |
| Messenger
| |
| Gracious my lord,
| |
| I should report that which I say I saw,
| |
| But know not how to do it.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Well, say, sir.
| |
| Messenger
| |
| As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
| |
| I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
| |
| The wood began to move.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Liar and slave!
| |
| Messenger
| |
| Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
| |
| Within this three mile may you see it coming;
| |
| I say, a moving grove.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| If thou speak'st false,
| |
| Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
| |
| Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,
| |
| I care not if thou dost for me as much.
| |
| I pull in resolution, and begin
| |
| To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
| |
| That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood
| |
| Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood
| |
| Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
| |
| If this which he avouches does appear,
| |
| There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
| |
| I gin to be aweary of the sun,
| |
| And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
| |
| Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
| |
| At least we'll die with harness on our back.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE VI. Dunsinane. Before the castle.
| |
| | |
| Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF, and their Army, with boughs
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Now near enough: your leafy screens throw down.
| |
| And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle,
| |
| Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
| |
| Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we
| |
| Shall take upon 's what else remains to do,
| |
| According to our order.
| |
| SIWARD
| |
| Fare you well.
| |
| Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
| |
| Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,
| |
| Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.
| |
| Exeunt
| |
| | |
| SCENE VII. Another part of the field.
| |
| | |
| Alarums. Enter MACBETH
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,
| |
| But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What's he
| |
| That was not born of woman? Such a one
| |
| Am I to fear, or none.
| |
| Enter YOUNG SIWARD
| |
| | |
| YOUNG SIWARD
| |
| What is thy name?
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.
| |
| YOUNG SIWARD
| |
| No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
| |
| Than any is in hell.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| My name's Macbeth.
| |
| YOUNG SIWARD
| |
| The devil himself could not pronounce a title
| |
| More hateful to mine ear.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| No, nor more fearful.
| |
| YOUNG SIWARD
| |
| Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
| |
| I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.
| |
| They fight and YOUNG SIWARD is slain
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| Thou wast born of woman
| |
| But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
| |
| Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.
| |
| Exit
| |
| | |
| Alarums. Enter MACDUFF
| |
| | |
| MACDUFF
| |
| That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face!
| |
| If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine,
| |
| My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
| |
| I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms
| |
| Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth,
| |
| Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge
| |
| I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;
| |
| By this great clatter, one of greatest note
| |
| Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
| |
| And more I beg not.
| |
| Exit. Alarums
| |
| | |
| Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD
| |
| | |
| SIWARD
| |
| This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd:
| |
| The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;
| |
| The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
| |
| The day almost itself professes yours,
| |
| And little is to do.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| We have met with foes
| |
| That strike beside us.
| |
| SIWARD
| |
| Enter, sir, the castle.
| |
| Exeunt. Alarums
| |
| | |
| SCENE VIII. Another part of the field.
| |
| | |
| Enter MACBETH
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
| |
| On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
| |
| Do better upon them.
| |
| Enter MACDUFF
| |
| | |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Turn, hell-hound, turn!
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Of all men else I have avoided thee:
| |
| But get thee back; my soul is too much charged
| |
| With blood of thine already.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| I have no words:
| |
| My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain
| |
| Than terms can give thee out!
| |
| They fight
| |
| | |
| MACBETH
| |
| Thou losest labour:
| |
| As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
| |
| With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed:
| |
| Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
| |
| I bear a charmed life, which must not yield,
| |
| To one of woman born.
| |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Despair thy charm;
| |
| And let the angel whom thou still hast served
| |
| Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
| |
| Untimely ripp'd.
| |
| MACBETH
| |
| Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
| |
| For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
| |
| And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
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| That palter with us in a double sense;
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| That keep the word of promise to our ear,
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| And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.
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| MACDUFF
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| Then yield thee, coward,
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| And live to be the show and gaze o' the time:
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| We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
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| Painted on a pole, and underwrit,
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| 'Here may you see the tyrant.'
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| MACBETH
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| I will not yield,
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| To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
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| And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
| |
| Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
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| And thou opposed, being of no woman born,
| |
| Yet I will try the last. Before my body
| |
| I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,
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| And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'
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| Exeunt, fighting. Alarums
| |
| | |
| Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, SIWARD, ROSS, the other Thanes, and Soldiers
| |
| | |
| MALCOLM
| |
| I would the friends we miss were safe arrived.
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| SIWARD
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| Some must go off: and yet, by these I see,
| |
| So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| Macduff is missing, and your noble son.
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| ROSS
| |
| Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
| |
| He only lived but till he was a man;
| |
| The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
| |
| In the unshrinking station where he fought,
| |
| But like a man he died.
| |
| SIWARD
| |
| Then he is dead?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
| |
| Must not be measured by his worth, for then
| |
| It hath no end.
| |
| SIWARD
| |
| Had he his hurts before?
| |
| ROSS
| |
| Ay, on the front.
| |
| SIWARD
| |
| Why then, God's soldier be he!
| |
| Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
| |
| I would not wish them to a fairer death:
| |
| And so, his knell is knoll'd.
| |
| MALCOLM
| |
| He's worth more sorrow,
| |
| And that I'll spend for him.
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| SIWARD
| |
| He's worth no more
| |
| They say he parted well, and paid his score:
| |
| And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.
| |
| Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head
| |
| | |
| MACDUFF
| |
| Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands
| |
| The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
| |
| I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
| |
| That speak my salutation in their minds;
| |
| Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:
| |
| Hail, King of Scotland!
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| ALL
| |
| Hail, King of Scotland!
| |
| Flourish
| |
| | |
| MALCOLM
| |
| We shall not spend a large expense of time
| |
| Before we reckon with your several loves,
| |
| And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
| |
| Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
| |
| In such an honour named. What's more to do,
| |
| Which would be planted newly with the time,
| |
| As calling home our exiled friends abroad
| |
| That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
| |
| Producing forth the cruel ministers
| |
| Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,
| |
| Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
| |
| Took off her life; this, and what needful else
| |
| That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
| |
| We will perform in measure, time and place:
| |
| So, thanks to all at once and to each one,
| |
| Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.
| |
| Flourish. Exeunt<div id="wikia-credits"><br /><br /><small>From [http://transformers.wikia.com Teletraan I: The Transformers Wiki], a [http://www.wikia.com Wikia] wiki.</small></div>
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