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3411 lines
98 KiB
Plaintext
3411 lines
98 KiB
Plaintext
The Tragedy of Macbeth
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Shakespeare homepage | Macbeth | Entire play
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ACT I
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SCENE I. A desert place.
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Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches
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First Witch
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When shall we three meet again
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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.
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Alarum within. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant
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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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Who comes here?
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Enter ROSS
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MALCOLM
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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.
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Thunder. Enter the three Witches
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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?
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Enter ROSS and ANGUS
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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
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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
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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
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With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
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With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
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He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
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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:
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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
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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
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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
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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
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A deep repentance: nothing in his life
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Became him like the leaving it; he died
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As one that had been studied in his death
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To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
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As 'twere a careless trifle.
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DUNCAN
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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
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An absolute trust.
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Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, ROSS, and ANGUS
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O worthiest cousin!
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The sin of my ingratitude even now
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Was heavy on me: thou art so far before
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That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
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To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved,
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That the proportion both of thanks and payment
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Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
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More is thy due than more than all can pay.
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MACBETH
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The service and the loyalty I owe,
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In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
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Is to receive our duties; and our duties
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Are to your throne and state children and servants,
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Which do but what they should, by doing every thing
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Safe toward your love and honour.
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DUNCAN
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Welcome hither:
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I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
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To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
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That hast no less deserved, nor must be known
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No less to have done so, let me enfold thee
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And hold thee to my heart.
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BANQUO
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There if I grow,
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The harvest is your own.
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DUNCAN
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My plenteous joys,
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Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
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In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes,
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And you whose places are the nearest, know
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We will establish our estate upon
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Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter
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The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must
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Not unaccompanied invest him only,
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But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
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On all deservers. From hence to Inverness,
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And bind us further to you.
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MACBETH
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The rest is labour, which is not used for you:
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I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful
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The hearing of my wife with your approach;
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So humbly take my leave.
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DUNCAN
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My worthy Cawdor!
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MACBETH
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[Aside] The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step
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On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap,
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For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires;
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Let not light see my black and deep desires:
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The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be,
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Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
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Exit
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DUNCAN
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True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant,
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And in his commendations I am fed;
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It is a banquet to me. Let's after him,
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Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:
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It is a peerless kinsman.
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Flourish. Exeunt
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SCENE V. Inverness. Macbeth's castle.
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Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a letter
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LADY MACBETH
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'They met me in the day of success: and I have
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learned by the perfectest report, they have more in
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them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire
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to question them further, they made themselves air,
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into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in
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the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who
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all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title,
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before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred
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me to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king that
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shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver
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thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou
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mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being
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ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it
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to thy heart, and farewell.'
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Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be
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What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature;
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It is too full o' the milk of human kindness
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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.
|
|
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Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD and YOUNG SIWARD, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, ROSS, and Soldiers, marching
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MALCOLM
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Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand
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That chambers will be safe.
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MENTEITH
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We doubt it nothing.
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SIWARD
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What wood is this before us?
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MENTEITH
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The wood of Birnam.
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MALCOLM
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Let every soldier hew him down a bough
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And bear't before him: thereby shall we shadow
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The numbers of our host and make discovery
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Err in report of us.
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Soldiers
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It shall be done.
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SIWARD
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We learn no other but the confident tyrant
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Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
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Our setting down before 't.
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MALCOLM
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'Tis his main hope:
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For where there is advantage to be given,
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Both more and less have given him the revolt,
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And none serve with him but constrained things
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Whose hearts are absent too.
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MACDUFF
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Let our just censures
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Attend the true event, and put we on
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Industrious soldiership.
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SIWARD
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The time approaches
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That will with due decision make us know
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What we shall say we have and what we owe.
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Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate,
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But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:
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Towards which advance the war.
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Exeunt, marching
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SCENE V. Dunsinane. Within the castle.
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Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum and colours
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MACBETH
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Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
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The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength
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Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie
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Till famine and the ague eat them up:
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Were they not forced with those that should be ours,
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We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
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And beat them backward home.
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A cry of women within
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What is that noise?
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SEYTON
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It is the cry of women, my good lord.
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Exit
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MACBETH
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I have almost forgot the taste of fears;
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The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
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To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
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Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
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As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors;
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Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
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Cannot once start me.
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Re-enter SEYTON
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Wherefore was that cry?
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SEYTON
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The queen, my lord, is dead.
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MACBETH
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She should have died hereafter;
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There would have been a time for such a word.
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To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
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Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
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To the last syllable of recorded time,
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And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
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The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
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That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
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And then is heard no more: it is a tale
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Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
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Signifying nothing.
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Enter a Messenger
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Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
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Messenger
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Gracious my lord,
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I should report that which I say I saw,
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But know not how to do it.
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MACBETH
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Well, say, sir.
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Messenger
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As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
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I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
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The wood began to move.
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MACBETH
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Liar and slave!
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Messenger
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Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
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Within this three mile may you see it coming;
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I say, a moving grove.
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MACBETH
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If thou speak'st false,
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Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
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Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,
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I care not if thou dost for me as much.
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I pull in resolution, and begin
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To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
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That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood
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Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood
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Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
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If this which he avouches does appear,
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There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
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I gin to be aweary of the sun,
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And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
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Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
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At least we'll die with harness on our back.
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Exeunt
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SCENE VI. Dunsinane. Before the castle.
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Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF, and their Army, with boughs
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MALCOLM
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Now near enough: your leafy screens throw down.
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And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle,
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Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
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Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we
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Shall take upon 's what else remains to do,
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According to our order.
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SIWARD
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Fare you well.
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Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
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Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.
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MACDUFF
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Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,
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Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.
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Exeunt
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SCENE VII. Another part of the field.
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Alarums. Enter MACBETH
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MACBETH
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They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,
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But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What's he
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That was not born of woman? Such a one
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Am I to fear, or none.
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Enter YOUNG SIWARD
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YOUNG SIWARD
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What is thy name?
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MACBETH
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Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.
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YOUNG SIWARD
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No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
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Than any is in hell.
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MACBETH
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My name's Macbeth.
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YOUNG SIWARD
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The devil himself could not pronounce a title
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More hateful to mine ear.
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MACBETH
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No, nor more fearful.
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YOUNG SIWARD
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Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
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I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.
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They fight and YOUNG SIWARD is slain
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MACBETH
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Thou wast born of woman
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But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
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Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.
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Exit
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Alarums. Enter MACDUFF
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MACDUFF
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That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face!
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If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine,
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My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
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I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms
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Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth,
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Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge
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I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;
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By this great clatter, one of greatest note
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Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
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And more I beg not.
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Exit. Alarums
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Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD
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SIWARD
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This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd:
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The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;
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The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
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The day almost itself professes yours,
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And little is to do.
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MALCOLM
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We have met with foes
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That strike beside us.
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SIWARD
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Enter, sir, the castle.
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Exeunt. Alarums
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SCENE VIII. Another part of the field.
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Enter MACBETH
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MACBETH
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Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
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On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
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Do better upon them.
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Enter MACDUFF
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MACDUFF
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Turn, hell-hound, turn!
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MACBETH
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Of all men else I have avoided thee:
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But get thee back; my soul is too much charged
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With blood of thine already.
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MACDUFF
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I have no words:
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My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain
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Than terms can give thee out!
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They fight
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MACBETH
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Thou losest labour:
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As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
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With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed:
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Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
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I bear a charmed life, which must not yield,
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To one of woman born.
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MACDUFF
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Despair thy charm;
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And let the angel whom thou still hast served
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Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
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Untimely ripp'd.
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MACBETH
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Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
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For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
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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.
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Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
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And thou opposed, being of no woman born,
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Yet I will try the last. Before my body
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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
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Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, SIWARD, ROSS, the other Thanes, and Soldiers
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MALCOLM
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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,
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So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
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MALCOLM
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Macduff is missing, and your noble son.
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ROSS
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Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
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He only lived but till he was a man;
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The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
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In the unshrinking station where he fought,
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But like a man he died.
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SIWARD
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Then he is dead?
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ROSS
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Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
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Must not be measured by his worth, for then
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It hath no end.
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SIWARD
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Had he his hurts before?
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ROSS
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Ay, on the front.
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SIWARD
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Why then, God's soldier be he!
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Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
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I would not wish them to a fairer death:
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And so, his knell is knoll'd.
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MALCOLM
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He's worth more sorrow,
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And that I'll spend for him.
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SIWARD
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He's worth no more
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They say he parted well, and paid his score:
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And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.
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Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head
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MACDUFF
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Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands
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The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
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I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
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That speak my salutation in their minds;
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Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:
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Hail, King of Scotland!
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ALL
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Hail, King of Scotland!
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Flourish
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MALCOLM
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We shall not spend a large expense of time
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Before we reckon with your several loves,
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And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
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Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
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In such an honour named. What's more to do,
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Which would be planted newly with the time,
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As calling home our exiled friends abroad
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That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
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Producing forth the cruel ministers
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Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,
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Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
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Took off her life; this, and what needful else
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That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
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We will perform in measure, time and place:
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So, thanks to all at once and to each one,
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Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.
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Flourish. Exeunt
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