I am a man again.--Pray you, sit still.

Your charms, and every thing beside.

Question enrages him. At once, good night :

Stand not upon the order of your going,

But go at once.
Len.
Good night; and better health
Attend his majesty.
Lady M.

A kind good night to all! [Exeunt Lords and Attendants. Macb. 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 M. Almost at odds with morning, which is
which.

Macb. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person,

At our great bidding?

Lady M.

Did you send to him, sir?
Macb. I hear it by the way; but I will send.
There's not a one of them, but in his house
I'll 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
Stept in so far, that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand,
Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.
Lady M. You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
Macb. 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.

SCENE V.The Heath.

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
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear;
And, you all know, security

Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

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 HECATE. 1 Witch. Come, let's make haste: she'll soon be back again. [Exeunt Witches.

SCENE VI.-Fores. A Room in the Palace.

Enter LENOx and another Lord.

Len. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret farther: 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 't would 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 't were to kill a father; so should Fleance.
But, peace!-for from broad words, and 'cause he

fail'd

Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting HECATE.
1 Witch. Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly.
Hec. Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
Saucy, and over-bold? How did you dare
To trade and traffic with Macbeth,

In riddles, and affairs of death;
And I, the mistress of your charms,
The close contriver of all harms,
Was never call'd to bear my part,
Or show the glory of our art?
And, which is worse, all you have done
Hath been but for a wayward son,
Spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do,
Loves for his own ends, not for you.
But make amends now: get you gone,
And at the pit of Acheron

Meet me i' the morning: thither he
Will come to know his destiny.

Your vessels, and your spells, provide,

The son of Duncan,
From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
Lives in the English court; and is receiv'd
Of the most pious Edward with such grace,
That the malevolence of fortune nothing
Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduff
Is gone, to pray the holy king 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.

Len.
Sent he to Macduff?
Lord. He did and with an absolute, "Sir, not I;"
The cloudy messenger turns me his back,
And hums, as who should say,
That clogs me with this answer."

You'll rue the time

SCENE I.—A dark Cave. In the middle, a Cauldron. Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1 Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. 2 Witch. Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin'd. 3 Witch. Harper1 cries,—'T is time, 't is time. 1 Witch. Round about the cauldron go; In the poison'd entrails throw.— Toad, that under cold stone, Day 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.

2 Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake,

In the cauldron boil and bake:
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

All. Double, double toil and trouble,
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

3 Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf;
Witches' mummy; maw, and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark;

Root of hemlock, digg'd i' the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe,
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab :
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron2,
For the ingredients of our cauldron,

All. Double, double toil and trouble ;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

2 Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood;
Then the charm is firm and good.

Enter HECATE, and other Witches.

Hec. O, well done! I commend your pains,
And every one shall share i' the gains.

And now about the cauldron sing,
Like elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.

[Music, and a Song. "Black spirits," &c.3 Exit HECATE.
2 Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.—
Open, locks, whoever knocks.

Enter MACBETH.

[Knocking.

Macb. Then live, Macduff: what need Ï 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.-What is this,
Thunder. 3 Apparition, a Child crowned, with a Tree
in his Hand.
That rises like the issue of a king;
And wears upon his baby brow the round

All. Listen, but speak not to 't. App. Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until

1 Harpier in f. e.

4 bladed: in f. e.

on in f. e.

Black spirits and white,

Red spirits and grey;

Mingle, mingle, mingle, You that mingle may.

That will never be : Who can impress the forest; bid the tree Unfix his earth-bound root ? sweet bodements! Rebellion's' head, rise never, till the wood Of Birnam rise; and our high-plac'd 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.
Macb. 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?
[The cauldron descends.

Hautboys sound. 1 Witch. Show! 2 Witch. Show! 3 Witch. Show! All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, so depart. A show of eight Kings, and BANQUO first and last,3 with a Glass in his Hand.

Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down! Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls ;-and thy hair. Thou other gold-bound brow art 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 sceptres carry. Horrible sight!-Now, I see, 't is true; For the blood-bolter'd' Banquo smiles upon me, And points at them for his.-What! is this so? 1 Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so: but why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly ?Come, 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 vanish. Macb. Where are they? Gone?-Let this pernicious

hour

Len. Ay, my good lord.

Fled to England?

Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.

L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his His mansion, and his titles, in a place [babes, 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.

My dearest coz',

Rosse.
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 farther
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,
And do not know 't 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 :
'T shall not be long but I'll be here again.
Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before.-My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!

L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he 's fatherless.
Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort.
I take my leave at once.
[Exit Rosse.
L. Macd.
Sirrah, your father's dead:
And what will you do now? How will you live?
Son. As birds do, mother.

L. Macd.

What, with worms and flies ? Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. L. Macd. Poor bird! thou 'dst never fear the net, nor lime, The pit-fall, nor the gin.

Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.

My father is not dead, for all your saying.

L. Macd. Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou do for a

father?

Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband?

L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again. L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; And yet i' faith, with wit enough for thee. Son. Was my father a traitor, mother? L. Macd. Ay, that he was.

Son. What is a trailor?

L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.
Son. And be all traitors that do so?

L. Macd. Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.

3 BANQUO last: in f. e. 4 Besmeared. 5 sights: in f. e.

6 know:

Son. Who must hang them?

L. Macd. Why, the honest men.

Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools; for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men, and hang up them.

L. Macd. Now God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father?

Son, If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.

L. Macd. Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!
Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Bless you, fair dame. I am not to you known,
Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
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 Messenger.
Whither should I fly?

L. Macd.

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,

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.
Macd.
I have lost my hopes.

Mal. Perchance, even there, where I did find my doubts.

Why in that rawness left you wife, and child,
Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,
Without leave-taking ?-I pray you,

Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
But mine own safeties: you may be rightly just,
Whatever I shall think.

Macd.

Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dares not check thee! wear thou thy

He has kill'd me, mother: Run away, I pray you. [Dies. [Exit Lady MACDUFF, crying murder, and pursued by the Murderers.

SCENE III.—England. A Room in the King's

Palace.

Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF.

[Showing a Paper.

What should he be ? Mal. It is myself I mean; in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted, That, when they shall be ripen'ds, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd With my confineless harms.

Macd.

Macd.

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.

Mal.
What I believe, I'll wail;
What know, believe; and what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will:
What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you have lov'd him well;
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but some-
thing

You may deserve2 of him through me, and wisdom
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb

To appease an angry god.

Macd. I am not treacherous.

Mal.
I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin
That has a name; but there's no bottom, none,
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up
The cistern of my lust; and my desire

All continent impediments would o'er-bear,
That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth,
Than such a one to reign.

Macd.

Boundless intemperance

In nature is a tyranny: it hath been
Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne,
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours: you may
Enjoy 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 inclin'd.