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SCENE V.-The Heath.

Thunder. Enter HECATE, meeting the three

1 Witch. Why, how now, Hecate? you look

Hec. 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-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 slights,
Shall raise such artificial sprights,
As, by the strength of their illusion,
Shall draw him on to his confusion:
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear:
And you all know, security

Is mortal's chiefest enemy.

Song. [Within.] Come away, come away, &c. Hark, I am call'd; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Exit. 1 Witch. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again. [Exeunt.

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

Enter LENOX and another LORD.

Len. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,

Which can interpret further: only, I say, Things have been strangely borne: The gracious Duncan [dead:

Was pitied of Macbeth-marry, he was
And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;
Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleance

For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late.
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous
It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain,
To kill their gracious father? damned fact!
How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight,
In pious rage, the two delinquents tear,

That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep?

Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too; For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive, To hear the men deny it. So that, I say, He has borne all things well: and I do think, That, had he Duncan's sons under his key, (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,

I. e. A drop that has deep or hidden qualities,

Macduff lives in disgrace: Sir, can you tell Where he bestows himself?

Lord. The son of Duncan,

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

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 exasperatet the king, that he Prepares for some attempt of war.

Len. Sent he to Macduff?

Lord. He did: and with an absolute, Sir,

not I,

The cloudy messenger turns me his back, And hums; as who should say, You'll rue the time

That clogs me with this answer.

Len. And that well might

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

Lord. My prayers with him!



SCENE 1.-A dark Cave-In the middle, a Cauldron boiling.

Thunder. Enter the three WITCHES.

1 Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. 2 Witch. Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin'd.

3 Witch. Harper cries:-"Tis time, 'tis time.
1 Witch. Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.-
Toad, that under coldest stone,
Days and nights hast thirty-one
Swelter'dt venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i'the charmed pot!

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

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

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

3 Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf;
Witches' mummy; maw, and gulf,§
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark;
Root of hemlock, digg'd i'the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat, and slips of yew,
Silver'd in the moon's eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips;

*Honours freely bestowed. +For exasperated. This word is employed to signify that the animal was hot and sweating with anom, although sleeping under a cold stone.

The throat.


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But yet I'll make assurance double sure,
And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lies,
And sleep in spite of thunder.-What is this,
Thunder. An APPARITION of a Child Crowned,
with a Tree in his Hand, rises.

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.

App. Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no


Macb. How now, you secret, black, and Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:

midnight hags?

What is't you do?

All. A deed without a name.

Macb. 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 yestyt waves Confound and swallow navigation up; Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown down;

Though castles topples on their warders'


Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope
Their heads to their foundations; though the


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Into the flame.

All. Come, high, or low;

Thyself, and office, deftly show.

Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him.

Macb. That will never be;
Who can impress the forest;t bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? sweet bodement ?

Rebellious head, rise never, till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high plac'd Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
Throbs to know one thing; Tell me, (if your
To time, and mortal custom.-Yet my heart


Reign in this kingdom?
Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever

All. Seek to know no more.

Macb. I will be satisfied: deny me this, And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me


Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this? [Hautboys.

1 Witch. Show! 2 Witch. Show! 3 Witch.


All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, so depart.

Eight Kings appear, and pass over the Stage in order; the last with a Glass in his hand; BANQUO following.

Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down!

Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls:-And thy hair,


Thunder. An APPARITION of an Armed Head Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the


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A third is like the former :-Filthy hags! Why do you show me this?-A fourth-Start,


What! will the line stretch out to the crack of

Another yet?-A seventh ?--I'll see no more:doom ?|| Which shows me many more; and some And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass, see,

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That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry: Horrible sight!-Ay, now, I see 'tis true; For the blood-bolter'd* Banquo smiles upon


And points at them for his.-What, is this so?
1 Witch. Ay, Sir, all this is so :-But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?—
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights,t
And show the best of our delights;
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform the antique round:
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.

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

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

Enter LENOX.

Len. What's your grace's will?
Macb. Saw you the weird sisters?

Len. No, my lord.

Macb. Came they not by you?

Len. No, indeed, my lord.

Macb. 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? Len. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word,

Macduff is fled to England,
Macb. Fled to England?
Len. Ay, my good lord.

Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st‡ my dread ex-
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook, [ploits:
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 traces his line. No boasting like a fool;
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool:
But no more sights!-Where are these gentle-

men ?

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Rosse. You know not,

Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.
L. Mucd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave
his babes,

His mansion, and his titles, in a place [not;
From whence himself does fly? He loves us
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.

Rosse. My dearest cuz,

* Besmeared with blond

+ 2. e. Spirits.

Preventest, by taking away the opportunity.

I.e. Our fight is considered as evidence of our treason,
Natural affection.
* Fight for.

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L. Macd. Poor bird! thoud'st never fear the net, nor lime, The pit-fall, nor the gin.

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

My father is not dead, for all your saying. L. Macd. Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband? L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.

Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.
L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and
yet i'faith,
With wit enough for thee.

Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?
L. Macd. Ay, that he was.

Son. What is a traitor?

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

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

Son. And must they all be hanged, that swear and lie?

L. Macd. Every one.

Son. Who must hang them?

L. Macd. Why, the honest men.

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

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

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

L. Macd. Poor prattler! how thou talk'st.
Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you


Though in your state of honour I am perfect.t I doubt, some danger does approach you nearIf you will take a homely man's advice, [ly: Be not found here; hence, with your little


To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage; To do worse to you, were fell cruelty,

Sirrah was not, in our author's time, a term of re proach. I am perfectly acquainted with your rank.

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and there

Weep our sad bosoms empty.
Macd. Let us rather
Hold fast the mortal sword; and, like good
Bestride our downfall'n birthdom:* Each new
New widows howl; new orphans cry; new
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out
Like syllable of dolour.

Mal. What I believe, I'll wail;
What know, believe; and, what can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend,t I will.
What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance,
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our
Was once thought honest: you have lov'd him
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young;
but something
You may deserve of him through me; and wis-
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,
To appease an angry god.

Macd. I am not treacherous.
Mal. But Macbeth is.

A good and virtuous nature may recoil, [don;
In an imperial charge. But 'crave your par-
That which you are, my thoughts cannot trans-
Angels are bright still, though the brightest
Though all things foul would wear the brows
of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.
Macd. I have lost my hopes.

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

Why in that rawness left you wife, and child,
(Those precious motives, those strong knots of

Without leave taking ?-I pray you,

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

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Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country!
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dares not check thee! wear thou
thy wrongs,
Thy 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
And the rich east to boot.

Mal. Be not offended:

I speak not as in an 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.

Macd. What should he be?

Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I know
All the particulars of vice so grafted, [beth
That, when they shall be open'd, black Mac-
Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state
Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd
With my confineless harms.

Macd. Not in the legions

Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd
In evils, to top Macbeth.

Mal. I grant him bloody,

Luxurious,t 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
Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill
The cistern of my lust; and my desire
All continent impediments would o'er-bear,
That did oppose my will: Better Macbeth,
Than such a one to reign.

Macd. Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
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 hood-


We have willing dames enough; there cannot
That vulture in you, to devour so many.
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so inclin'd.

Mal. With this, there grows,
In my most ill-compos'd affection, such
A stanchless avarice, that, were I king,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands;
Desire his jewels, and this other's house:
And my more-having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more; that I should

Quarrels unjust against the good, and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.


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

Mal. But I have none: The king-becoming

Legally settled by those who had the final adjudi-



+ Passionate.
May be endured,

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, [should
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.

Macd, O Scotland! Scotland!

Mul. If such a one be fit to govern, speak: I am as I have spoken.

Macd. 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 accurs'd,
And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal
Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore
Oftner 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
Thy hope ends here!

Mal. Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Mac-
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 speak-
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,
All ready at a point, was setting forth:
Now we'll together; And the chance, of good-
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things
[at once,


'Tis hard to reconcile.

Enter a DOOTOR.


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Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

Mal. know him now: Good God, betimes The means that make us strangers! [remove Rosse. Sir, Amen.

Macd. Stands Scotland where it did?
Rosse. Alas, poor country;

Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where

But who knows nothing, is once seen to smil-
Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rem.
the air,
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow
Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's
A modern ecstacy;t the dead man's knell
Expire before the flowers in their caps, [lives,
Dying, or ere they sicken.

Macd. O, relation,

Too nice, and yet too true!

Mal. What is the newest grief?

Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the
Each minute teems a new one. [speaker;
Macd. How does my wife?
Rosse. Why, well.

Macd. And all my children?
Rosse. Well too.

Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?

Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I

did leave them.

Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; How goes it?

Rosse. 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, Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot: Would create soldiers, make our women fight, To doff't their dire distresses.

Mal. Be it 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.

Rosse. 'Would I could answer
This comfort with the like! But I have words,
That would be howl'd out in the dosert air,
Where hearing should not latch them.

Macd. What concern they?

The general cause? or is it a feo-grief,||
Due to some single breast?

Rosse. No mind, that's honest,

But in it shares some woe; though the main Pertains to you alone.

Macd. If it be mine,


Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

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