3 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king in borrow'd robes?

Ang.

Who was the thane, lives yet;

hereafter. Ban. Good sir, why do you start; and seem But under heavy judgment bears that life to fear Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was Things that do sound so fair 7-I' the name of combin'd truth,

Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace, and great predic-

tion

Of noble having, and of royal hope,

With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage; or that with both
He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
But treasons capital, confess'd, and prov'd,
Have overthrown him.
Macb.
Glamis, and thane of Cawdor;

That he seems rapt withal; to ine you speak The greatest is behind.--Thanks for your

This supernatural soliciting

By Sinel's death, I know, I am thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives, Cannot be ill; cannot be good:-If ill,
A prosperous gentleman; and to be king Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Stands not within the prospect of belief,
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
You owe this strange intelligence; or why Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
With such prophetick greeting-Speak, I charge Against the use of nature? Present fears
[Witches vanish. Are less than horrible imaginings:
Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
And these are of them.-Whither are they va-Shakes so my single state of man, that function
Is smother'd in surmise; and nothing is,
But what is not.

you.

nish'd ?

Macb. Into the air; and what seem'd corporal, melted

As breath into the wind.-'Would, they had

staid!

Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak
about?

Or have we eaten of the insane root,
That takes the reason prisoner?

Mach. Your children shall be kings.
Ban.
You shall be king.
Mucb. And thane of Cawdor too; went it not
so?

Ban. To the selfsame tune, and words. Who's
here ?

Enter Rosse and Angus.
Rosse. The king hath happily receiv'd, Mac-
beth,

The news of thy success: and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine, or his: Silenc'd with
that,

In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as tale,
Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
And pour'd them down before him.

Ban.

Look, how our partner's rapt.
Macb. If chance will have me king, why,
chance may crown me,
Without my stir.
Ban.

New honours come upon him
Like our strange garments; cleave not to their
mould,
But with the aid of use.
Much.

Come what come may Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

Macb. Give me your favour-my dull brain was wrought

With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains

Are register'd where every day I turn

The leaf to read them.-Let us toward the king.-
Think upon what hath chanc'd: and, at more
time,

The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
Our free hearts each to other.

Ban.
Very gladly.
Macb. Till then, enough.-Come, friends.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Fores. A Room in the Palace.
Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain,
Lenox, and Attendants."
Dun. Is execntion done on Cawdor? Are not
Those in commission yet return'd?
Mal.
My liege,

Ang.
We are sent,
To give thee, from our royal master, thanks;
To herald thee into his sight, not pay thee.
Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Caw-They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
dor:
With one that saw him die: who did report,
That very frankly he confess'd his treasons;
Implor'd your highness' pardon; and set forth
A deep repentance: nothing in his life
Became him, like the leaving it; he died
As one that had been studied in his death,

In which addition, hail most worthy thane!
For it is thine.
Ban.
What, can the devil speak true?
Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives: Why do
vou dress me

Lady M.

To alter favour ever is to fear:
Leave all the rest to me.

Only look up clear; And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubín, hors'd
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

[Exeunt. SCENE VI. The same. Before the Castle. Hautboys. Servants of Macbeth attending. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lenox, Macduff, Rosse, Angus, and Attendants.

Dun. This castle hath a pleasant seat: the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
Unto our gentle senses.
Ban.

This guest of summer,
The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,
By his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven's breath
Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,
Buttress, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird
Hath made his pendent bed, and procreant

cradle :

Where they most breed and haunt, I have ob

serv'd,

The air is delicate.

Enter Lady Macbeth.

Dun.
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 yield us for your pains,
And thank us for your trouble.
Lady M.

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, where-
with

Your majesty loads our house: For those of old,
And the late dignities heap'd up to them,
We rest your hermits.
Dun.
Where's the thane of Cawdor?
We cours'd 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 M.
Your servants ever
Hath theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in
compt,

To make their audit at your highness' pleasure,
Still to return your own.

Dun.
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. The same. A Room in the Castle.
Hautboys and Torches. Enter, and pass over
the Stage, a Sewer, and divers Servants with

Dishes and Service, Then enter Macbeth, Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well

It were done quickly: If the assassination

To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other-How now? what news?
Enter Lady Macbeth.

Lady M. He has almost supp'd: Why have
you left the chamber?
Macb. Hath he ask'd for me?
Lady M

Know you not, he has?
Macb. We will proceed no further in this busi-

ness:

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 M.
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 7 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? Would'st 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?
Macb.

'Pr'ythee, peace:

I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more, is none.
Lady M.
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 fit-

ness now

you

If we should fail,

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
Have done to this.
Macb.
Lady M.
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 wassel 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,

Could trammel up the consequence, and catch,What cannot you and I perform upon

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'd 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 jus-

tice

Commends the ingredients of our poison'd cha-
lice

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:

The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
His spongy officers; who shall bear the guilt
Of our great quell?

Macb.

Bring forth men-children only! For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv'd, When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy

two

ACT II.

SCENE I. The same. Court within the Castle.
Enter Banquo and Fleance, and a Servant

with a Torch before them.

Ban. How goes the night, boy?

The very stones prate of my where-about,
And take the present horror from the time,

Fle. The moon is down: I have not heard the Which now suits with it.-Whiles I threat, he

clock.

Ban. And she goes down at twelve.
Fle.

lives;

Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. I take't, 'tis later, sir. [A bell rings. Ban. Hold, take my sword;-There's hus-1 go, and it is done; the bell invites me. bandry in heaven, Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell Their candles are all out.-Take thee that too. That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. [Exit. A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, SCENE II. The same. And yet I would not sleep: Merciful powers! Restrain in me the cursed thoughts, that nature Gives way to in repose:-Give me my sword;Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a Torch. Who's there?

Mach. A friend.

Enter Lady Macbeth.
Lady M. That which hath made them drunk,
hath made me bold:

What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire:
-Hark-Peace!

Ban. What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's Which gives the stern'st good night. He is It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,

a-bed:

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.

Macb. [Within.] Who's there?-what, ho!
Lady M. Alack! I am afraid, they have awak'd,
And 'tis not done:-the attempt, and not the
deed,

Confounds us :-Hark!-I laid their daggers
ready,
He could not miss them.-Had he not resembled
My father as he slept, I had don't-My husband?

Enter Macbeth.

So I lose none,

When?

Lady M.

Now.

Macb.

As I descended?

In seeking to augment it, but still keep
My bosom franchis'd, and allegiance clear,
I shall be counsel'd.

Macb.

Ban. Thanks, sir; The like to you!

Exit Banquo. Macb. 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 marshal'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 half
world

Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleeper; 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