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Enter Macbeth, and exit Seyton.
Len. Good-morrow, noble sir!
Macb. Good-morrow, both!
Macd. Is the King stirring, worthy thane?
Macb. Not yet.
Macd. He did command me to call timely on him: I have almost slipp'd the hour.
Macb. I'll bring you to him.
Macd. I know, this is a joyful trouble to you; But yet, 'tis one.
Macb. The labour we delight in, physics pain.— This is the door..
Macd. I'll make so bold to call, For 'tis my limited service. [Exit Macduff.
Len. Goes the King hence to-day?
Macb. He does: he did appoint so.
Len. 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 confus'd 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.
Macb. Twas a rough night.
Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it.
Macd. O horror! horror! horror! Tongue, nor heart, Cannot conceive, nor name thee!
Macb. and Len. What's the matter?
Macd. Confusion now hath made his master-piece! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
Macb. What is it you say? the life?
hen. Mean you his majesty?
Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon :—Do not bid me speak; See, and then speak yourselves.—
[Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox. Awake! awake !—
Ring the alarum bell!—Murder! and treason!
The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!
As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprights, To countenance this horror I
[The Bell rings out.
Enter Banquo and Rosse.
O, Banquo, Banquo,
Our royal master's murder'd!
Enter Macbeth and Lenox.
Macb. 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.
Mal. What is amiss?
Macb. You are, and do not know it:
Macd. Your royal father's murder'd.
Mai. Oh, by whom?
Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done't: Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood, So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found Upon their pillows; they stared, and were distracted; No man's life was to be trusted with them.
[Exeunt Malcolm and Donalbain.
Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them.
Macd. Wherefore did you so?
Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: The expedition of my violent love Out-ran the pauser reason.—Here lay Duncan, His silver skin lac'd 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 his love known?
Ban. Fears and scruples shake us: In the great hand of Heaven I stand; and, thence, Against the undivulgM pretence I fight Of treasonous malice.
Macb. And so do I.
AU. So all.
Macd. Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
All. Well contented. [Exeunt.
A Wood on the Skirt of a Heath.
Enter the Three Witches, and a Chorus of Witches.
1 Witch. Speak, sister, speak,—is the deed done?
2 Witch. Long ago, long ago; Above twelve glasses since have run.
3 Witch. Ill deeds are seldom slow,
Nor single; following crimes on former wait;
Chor. Many more murders must this one ensue;
1 Witch. He must,—
2 Witch. He shall,—
3 Witch. He will spill much more blood, And become worse, to make his title good.
Chor. He must, he will spill much more blood, And become worse, to make his title good.
1 Witch. Now let's dance.
2 Witch. Agreed.
3 Witch. Agreed.
Chor. We should rejoice when good kings bleed.
1 Witch. When cattle die, about we go;
And fill the world with wonder,
Chor. Rejoice, we should rejoice.
2 Witch. When winds and waves are warring, Earthquakes the mountains tearing,
And monarchs die despairing,
Chor. Rejoice, we should rejoice.
3 Witch. Let's have a dance upon the heath, We gain more life by Duncan's death.
1 Witch. Sometimes like brinded cats we show, Having no music but our mew,
To which we dance in some old mill,
Chor. Where still the mill-clack does keep time.
2 Witch. Sometimes about a hollow tree,
And beetles singing drowsy hums;
3 Witch. At the night raven's dismal voice, When others tremble, we rejoice.
Chor. And nimbly, nimbly, dance we still, To th' echoes from a hollow hill. [Exeunt.
ACT THE THIRD.
Macbeth's Castle at Inverness.
Enter Macduff, meeting Lenox.
Len. How goes the world, sir, now?