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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.


Despair thy charm;

And let the angel, whom thou still hast served,
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripped.

Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
For it hath cowed my better part of man:
And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
That palter1 with us in a double sense;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope.—I'll not fight with thee.
Macd. Then yield thee, coward,

And live to be the show and gaze o' the time.
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,

Painted upon a pole; and underwrit,

Here may you see the tyrant.


I'll not yield To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, And to be baited with the rabble's curse. Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, 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; And damned be him that first cries, Hold, enough. [Exeunt, fighting.

Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with drum and colors, MALCOLM, Old SIWARD, ROSSE, LENOX, Angus, CATHNESS, MENTETH, and Soldiers.

Mal. I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. Siw. Some must go off; and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

Mal. Macduff is missing, and your noble son.

1 "That palter with us in a double sense," that shuffle with ambiguous expressions.

Rosse. 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 confirmed
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died.


Then he is dead?

Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field; your cause of sorrow

Must not be measured by his worth, for then

It hath no end.


Had he his hurts before?

Why, then, God's soldier be he!

Rosse. Ay, on the front.


Had I as many sons as I have hairs,

I would not wish them to a fairer death.1
And so his knell is knolled.


And that I'll spend for him..


He's worth more sorrow,

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 on a pole.2

Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art. Behold, where stands

The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compassed with thy kingdom's pearl,3
That speak my salutation in their minds ;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine,-

Hail, king of Scotland!

1 "When Siward, the martial earl of Northumberland, understood that his son, whom he had sent against the Scotchmen, was slain, he demanded whether his wounds were in the fore part or hinder part of his body. When it was answered, in the fore part,' he replied, 'I am right glad; neither wish I any other death to me or mine.""-Camden's Remaines.

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2 These words, " on a pole," Mr. Steevens added to the stage direction from the Chronicle. The stage directions of the players are often incorrect, and sometimes ludicrous.

3" Thy kingdom's pearl," thy kingdom's wealth or ornament. Rowe altered this to peers, without authority.


Hail, king of Scotland!

Mal. 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 honor named.1 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 fiendlike 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 crowned at Scone.

[Flourish. Exeunt.

1 "Malcolm, immediately after his coronation, called a parliament at Forfair; in the which he rewarded them with lands and livings that had assisted him against Macbeth. Manie of them that were before thanes were at this time made earles; as Fife, Menteith, Atholl, Levenox, Murrey, Caithness, Rosse, and Angus.”—Holinshed's History of Scotland, p. 176.

THIS play is deservedly celebrated for the propriety of its fictions, and solemnity, grandeur, and variety of its action; but it has no nice discriminations of character: the events are too great to admit the influence of particular dispositions, and the course of the action necessarily determines the conduct of the agents.

The danger of ambition is well described; and I know not whether it may not be said, in defence of some parts which now seem improbable, that in Shakspeare's time it was necessary to warn credulity against vain and illusive predictions.

The passions are directed to their true end. Lady Macbeth is merely detested; and though the courage of Macbeth preserves some esteem, yet every reader rejoices at his fall.




THIS historical play was founded on a former drama, entitled "The Troublesome Raigne of John, King of England, with the Discoverie of King Richard Cordelion's base Son, vulgarly named the Bastard Fawconbridge: also the Death of King John at Swinstead Abbey. As it was (sundry times) publikely acted by the Queenes Majesties Players in the honorable Cittie of London." This piece, which was in two parts, was 'printed at London for Sampson Clarke, 1591," without the author's name: was again republished in 1611, with the letters W. Sh. in the title-page ; and afterwards, in 1622, with the name of William Shakspeare at length. It may be found by the curious reader among the "Six Old Plays on which Shakspeare founded," &c., published by Mr. Steevens and Mr. Nichols some years since.

Shakspeare has followed the old play in the conduct of its plot, and has even adopted some of its lines. The number of quotations from Horace, and similar scraps of learning scattered over this motley piece, ascertain it to have been the work of a scholar. It contains likewise a quantity of rhyming Latin and ballad metre; and, in a scene where the Bastard is represented as plundering a monastery, there are strokes of humor, which, from their particular turn, were most evidently produced by another hand than that of Shakspeare. Pope attributes the old play to Shakspeare and Rowley conjointly; but we know not on what foundation. Dr. Farmer thinks there is no doubt that Rowley wrote the old play; and when Shakspeare's play was called for, and could not be procured from the players, a piratical bookseller reprinted the old one under his name.

Though, as Johnson observes, King John is not "written with the utmost power of Shakspeare," yet it has parts of preeminent pathos and beauty, and characters highly interesting, drawn with great force and truth. The scene between John and Hubert is perhaps one of the most

masterly and striking which our Poet ever penned. The secret workings of the dark and turbulent soul of the usurper, ever shrinking from the full development of his own bloody purpose; the artful expressions of grateful attachment by which he wins Hubert to do the deed; and the sententious brevity of the close, manifest that consummate skill and wonderful knowledge of human character which are to be found in Shakspeare alone. But what shall we say of that heart-rending scene between Hubert and Arthur? —a scene so deeply affecting the soul with terror and pity, that even the sternest bosom must melt into tears; it would perhaps be too overpowering for the feelings, were it not for the "alleviating influence of the innocence and artless eloquence of the poor child.” His death afterwards, when he throws himself from the prison walls, excites the deepest commiseration for his hapless fate. The maternal grief of Constance, moving the haughty, unbending soul of a proud queen and affectionate mother to the very confines of the most hopeless despair, bordering on madness, is no less finely conceived, than sustained by language of the most impassioned and vehement eloquence. How exquisitely beautiful are the following lines!—

"Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form:
Then have I reason to be fond of grief."

Shakspeare has judiciously preserved the character of the Bastard Faulconbridge, which was furnished him by the old play, to alleviate by his comic humor the poignant grief excited by the too painful events of the tragic part of the play. Faulconbridge is a favorite with every one: he is not only a man of wit, but an heroic soldier; and we lean toward him from the first for the good humor he displays in his litigation with his brother respecting the succession to his supposed father;—

"He hath a trick of Cœur-de-lion's face,

The very spirit of Plantagenet!"

This bespeaks our favor toward him: his courage, his wit, and his frankness secure it.

Schlegel has remarked that, in this play, "the political and warlike events are dressed out with solemn pomp, for the very reason that they possess but little true grandeur. The falsehood and selfishness of the

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