Exeunt.
Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.
Brut. Come poore remaines of friends, rest on thisRocke
Clit. Statillius shew'd the Torch-light, but my LordHe came not backe: he is or tane, or slaine
Brut. Sit thee downe, Clitus: slaying is the word,It is a deed in fashion. Hearke thee, Clitus
Clit. What I, my Lord? No, not for all the World
Brut. Peace then, no words
Clit. Ile rather kill my selfe
Brut. Hearke thee, Dardanius
Dard. Shall I doe such a deed?Clit. O Dardanius
Dard. O Clitus
Clit. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?Dard. To kill him, Clitus: looke he meditates
Clit. Now is that Noble Vessell full of griefe,That it runnes ouer euen at his eyes
Brut. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word
Volum. What sayes my Lord?Brut. Why this, Volumnius:The Ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to meTwo seuerall times by Night: at Sardis, once;And this last Night, here in Philippi fields:I know my houre is come
Volum. Not so, my Lord
Brut. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.Thou seest the World, Volumnius, how it goes,Our Enemies haue beat vs to the Pit:
Low Alarums.
It is more worthy, to leape in our selues,Then tarry till they push vs. Good Volumnius,Thou know'st, that we two went to Schoole together:Euen for that our loue of old, I pretheeHold thou my Sword Hilts, whilest I runne on it
Vol. That's not an Office for a friend, my Lord.
Alarum still.
Cly. Fly, flye my Lord, there is no tarrying heere
Bru. Farewell to you, and you, and Volumnius.Strato, thou hast bin all this while asleepe:Farewell to thee, to Strato, Countrymen:My heart doth ioy, that yet in all my life,I found no man, but he was true to me.I shall haue glory by this loosing dayMore then Octauius, and Marke Antony,By this vile Conquest shall attaine vnto.So fare you well at once, for Brutus tongueHath almost ended his liues History:Night hangs vpon mine eyes, my Bones would rest,That haue but labour'd, to attaine this houre.
Alarum. Cry within, Flye, flye, flye.
Cly. Fly my Lord, flye
Bru. Hence: I will follow:I prythee Strato, stay thou by thy Lord,Thou art a Fellow of a good respect:Thy life hath had some smatch of Honor in it,Hold then my Sword, and turne away thy face,While I do run vpon it. Wilt thou Strato?Stra. Giue me your hand first. Fare you wel my Lord
Bru. Farewell good Strato. - Caesar, now be still,I kill'd not thee with halfe so good a will.Dyes.
Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octauius, Messala, Lucillius, andtheArmy.
Octa. What man is that?Messa. My Masters man. Strato, where is thy Master?Stra. Free from the Bondage you are in Messala,The Conquerors can but make a fire of him:For Brutus onely ouercame himselfe,And no man else hath Honor by his death
Lucil. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee BrutusThat thou hast prou'd Lucillius saying true,Octa. All that seru'd Brutus, I will entertaine them.Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?Stra. I, if Messala will preferre me to you
Octa. Do so, good Messala
Messa. How dyed my Master Strato?Stra. I held the Sword, and he did run on it
Messa. Octauius, then take him to follow thee,That did the latest seruice to my Master
Ant. This was the Noblest Roman of them all:All the Conspirators saue onely hee,Did that they did, in enuy of great Caesar:He, onely in a generall honest thought,And common good to all, made one of them.His life was gentle, and the ElementsSo mixt in him, that Nature might stand vp,And say to all the world; This was a man
Octa. According to his Vertue, let vs vse himWithall Respect, and Rites of Buriall.Within my Tent his bones to night shall ly,Most like a Souldier ordered Honourably:So call the Field to rest, and let's away,To part the glories of this happy day.
Exeunt. omnes.
FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF IVLIVS CaeSAR.
The Tragedie of Macbeth
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.
1. When shall we three meet againe?In Thunder, Lightning, or in Raine?2. When the Hurley-burley's done,When the Battaile's lost, and wonne
3. That will be ere the set of Sunne
1. Where the place? 2. Vpon the Heath
3. There to meet with Macbeth
1. I come, Gray-Malkin
All. Padock calls anon: faire is foule, and foule is faire,Houer through the fogge and filthie ayre.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Alarum within. Enter King Malcome, Donalbaine, Lenox, with attendants, meeting a bleeding Captaine.
King. What bloody man is that? he can report,As seemeth by his plight, of the ReuoltThe newest state
Mal. This is the Serieant,Who like a good and hardie Souldier fought'Gainst my Captiuitie: Haile braue friend;Say to the King, the knowledge of the Broyle,As thou didst leaue it
Cap. Doubtfull it stood,As two spent Swimmers, that doe cling together,And choake their Art: The mercilesse Macdonwald(Worthie to be a Rebell, for to thatThe multiplying Villanies of NatureDoe swarme vpon him) from the Westerne IslesOf Kernes and Gallowgrosses is supply'd,And Fortune on his damned Quarry smiling,Shew'd like a Rebells Whore: but all's too weake:For braue Macbeth (well hee deserues that Name)Disdayning Fortune, with his brandisht Steele,Which smoak'd with bloody execution(Like Valours Minion) caru'd out his passage,Till hee fac'd the Slaue:Which neu'r shooke hands, nor bad farwell to him,Till he vnseam'd him from the Naue toth' Chops,And fix'd his Head vpon our Battlements
King. O valiant Cousin, worthy Gentleman
Cap. As whence the Sunne 'gins his reflection,Shipwracking Stormes, and direfull Thunders:So from that Spring, whence comfort seem'd to come,Discomfort swells: Marke King of Scotland, marke,No sooner Iustice had, with Valour arm'd,Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heeles,But the Norweyan Lord, surueying vantage,With furbusht Armes, and new supplyes of men,Began a fresh assault
King. Dismay'd not this our Captaines, Macbeth andBanquoh?Cap. Yes, as Sparrowes, Eagles;Or the Hare, the Lyon:If I say sooth, I must report they wereAs Cannons ouer-charg'd with double Cracks,So they doubly redoubled stroakes vpon the Foe:Except they meant to bathe in reeking Wounds,Or memorize another Golgotha,I cannot tell: but I am faint,My Gashes cry for helpe
King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds,They smack of Honor both: Goe get him Surgeons.Enter Rosse and Angus.
Who comes here?Mal. The worthy Thane of Rosse
Lenox. What a haste lookes through his eyes?So should he looke, that seemes to speake things strange
Rosse. God saue the King
King. Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane?Rosse. From Fiffe, great King,Where the Norweyan Banners flowt the Skie,And fanne our people cold.Norway himselfe, with terrible numbers,Assisted by that most disloyall Traytor,The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismall Conflict,Till that Bellona's Bridegroome, lapt in proofe,Confronted him with selfe-comparisons,Point against Point, rebellious Arme 'gainst Arme,Curbing his lauish spirit: and to conclude,The Victorie fell on vs
King. Great happinesse
Rosse. That now Sweno, the Norwayes King,Craues composition:Nor would we deigne him buriall of his men,Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes ynch,Ten thousand Dollars, to our generall vse
King. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceiueOur Bosome interest: Goe pronounce his present death,And with his former Title greet Macbeth
Rosse. Ile see it done
King. What he hath lost, Noble Macbeth hath wonne.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
1. Where hast thou beene, Sister? 2. Killing Swine
3. Sister, where thou?1. A Saylors Wife had Chestnuts in her Lappe,And mouncht, & mouncht, and mouncht:Giue me, quoth I.Aroynt thee, Witch, the rumpe-fed Ronyon cryes.Her Husband's to Aleppo gone, Master o'th' Tiger:But in a Syue Ile thither sayle,And like a Rat without a tayle,Ile doe, Ile doe, and Ile doe
2. Ile giue thee a Winde
1. Th'art kinde
3. And I another
1. I my selfe haue all the other,And the very Ports they blow,All the Quarters that they know,I'th' Ship-mans Card.Ile dreyne him drie as Hay:Sleepe shall neyther Night nor DayHang vpon his Pent-house Lid:He shall liue a man forbid:Wearie Seu'nights, nine times nine,Shall he dwindle, peake, and pine:Though his Barke cannot be lost,Yet it shall be Tempest-tost.Looke what I haue
2. Shew me, shew me
1. Here I haue a Pilots Thumbe, Wrackt, as homeward he did come.
Drum within.
3. A Drumme, a Drumme:Macbeth doth come
All. The weyward Sisters, hand in hand,Posters of the Sea and Land,Thus doe goe, about, about,Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,And thrice againe, to make vp nine.Peace, the Charme's wound vp.Enter Macbeth and Banquo.
Macb. So foule and faire a day I haue not seene
Banquo. How farre is't call'd to Soris? What are these,So wither'd, and so wilde in their attyre,That looke not like th' Inhabitants o'th' Earth,And yet are on't? Liue you, or are you aughtThat man may question? you seeme to vnderstand me,By each at once her choppie finger layingVpon her skinnie Lips: you should be Women,And yet your Beards forbid me to interpreteThat you are so
Mac. Speake if you can: what are you?1. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Glamis
2. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Cawdor
3. All haile Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter
Banq. Good Sir, why doe you start, and seeme to feareThings that doe sound so faire? i'th' name of truthAre ye fantasticall, or that indeedWhich outwardly ye shew? My Noble PartnerYou greet with present Grace, and great predictionOf Noble hauing, and of Royall hope,That he seemes wrapt withall: to me you speake not.If you can looke into the Seedes of Time,And say, which Graine will grow, and which will not,Speake then to me, who neyther begge, nor feareYour fauors, nor your hate
1. Hayle
2. Hayle
3. Hayle
1. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater
2. Not so happy, yet much happyer
3. Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none: So all haile Macbeth, and Banquo
1. Banquo, and Macbeth, all haile
Macb. Stay you imperfect Speakers, tell me more:By Sinells death, I know I am Thane of Glamis,But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor liuesA prosperous Gentleman: And to be King,Stands not within the prospect of beleefe,No more then to be Cawdor. Say from whenceYou owe this strange Intelligence, or whyVpon this blasted Heath you stop our wayWith such Prophetique greeting?Speake, I charge you.
Witches vanish.
Banq. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water ha's,And these are of them: whither are they vanish'd?Macb. Into the Ayre: and what seem'd corporall,Melted, as breath into the Winde.Would they had stay'd
Banq. Were such things here, as we doe speake about?Or haue we eaten on the insane Root,That takes the Reason Prisoner?Macb. Your Children shall be Kings
Banq. You shall be King
Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?Banq. Toth' selfe-same tune and words: who's here?Enter Rosse and Angus.
Rosse. The King hath happily receiu'd, Macbeth,The newes of thy successe: and when he readesThy personall Venture in the Rebels sight,His Wonders and his Prayses doe contend,Which should be thine, or his: silenc'd with that,In viewing o're the rest o'th' selfe-same day,He findes thee in the stout Norweyan Rankes,Nothing afeard of what thy selfe didst makeStrange Images of death, as thick as TaleCan post with post, and euery one did beareThy prayses in his Kingdomes great defence,And powr'd them downe before him
Ang. Wee are sent,To giue thee from our Royall Master thanks,Onely to harrold thee into his sight,Not pay thee
Rosse. And for an earnest of a greater Honor,He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:In which addition, haile most worthy Thane,For it is thine
Banq. What, can the Deuill speake true?Macb. The Thane of Cawdor liues:Why doe you dresse me in borrowed Robes?Ang. Who was the Thane, liues yet,But vnder heauie Iudgement beares that Life,Which he deserues to loose.Whether he was combin'd with those of Norway,Or did lyne the Rebell with hidden helpe,And vantage; or that with both he labour'dIn his Countreyes wracke, I know not:But Treasons Capitall, confess'd, and prou'd,Haue ouerthrowne him
Macb. Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor:The greatest is behinde. Thankes for your paines.Doe you not hope your Children shall be Kings,When those that gaue the Thane of Cawdor to me,Promis'd no lesse to them
Banq. That trusted home,Might yet enkindle you vnto the Crowne,Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:And oftentimes, to winne vs to our harme,The Instruments of Darknesse tell vs Truths,Winne vs with honest Trifles, to betray'sIn deepest consequence.Cousins, a word, I pray you
Macb. Two Truths are told,As happy Prologues to the swelling ActOf the Imperiall Theame. I thanke you Gentlemen:This supernaturall sollicitingCannot be ill; cannot be good.If ill? why hath it giuen me earnest of successe,Commencing in a Truth? I am Thane of Cawdor.If good? why doe I yeeld to that suggestion,Whose horrid Image doth vnfixe my Heire,And make my seated Heart knock at my Ribbes,Against the vse of Nature? Present FearesAre lesse then horrible Imaginings:My Thought, whose Murther yet is but fantasticall,Shakes so my single state of Man,That Function is smother'd in surmise,And nothing is, but what is not
Banq. Looke how our Partner's rapt
Macb. If Chance will haue me King,Why Chance may Crowne me,Without my stirre
Banq. New Honors come vpon himLike our strange Garments, cleaue not to their mould,But with the aid of vse
Macb. Come what come may,Time, and the Houre, runs through the roughest Day
Banq. Worthy Macbeth, wee stay vpon your leysure
Macb. Giue me your fauour:My dull Braine was wrought with things forgotten.Kinde Gentlemen, your paines are registred,Where euery day I turne the Leafe,To reade them.Let vs toward the King: thinke vponWhat hath chanc'd: and at more time,The Interim hauing weigh'd it, let vs speakeOur free Hearts each to other
Banq. Very gladly
Macb. Till then enough:Come friends.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Flourish. Enter King, Lenox, Malcolme, Donalbaine, andAttendants.
King. Is execution done on Cawdor?Or not those in Commission yet return'd?Mal. My Liege, they are not yet come back.But I haue spoke with one that saw him die:Who did report, that very frankly heeConfess'd his Treasons, implor'd your Highnesse Pardon,And set forth a deepe Repentance:Nothing in his Life became him,Like the leauing it. Hee dy'de,As one that had beene studied in his death,To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,As 'twere a carelesse Trifle
King. There's no Art,To finde the Mindes construction in the Face.He was a Gentleman, on whom I builtAn absolute Trust.Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.
O worthyest Cousin,The sinne of my Ingratitude euen nowWas heauie on me. Thou art so farre before,That swiftest Wing of Recompence is slow,To ouertake thee. Would thou hadst lesse deseru'd,That the proportion both of thanks, and payment,Might haue beene mine: onely I haue left to say,More is thy due, then more then all can pay
Macb. The seruice, and the loyaltie I owe,In doing it, payes it selfe.Your Highnesse part, is to receiue our Duties:And our Duties are to your Throne, and State,Children, and Seruants; which doe but what they should,By doing euery thing safe toward your LoueAnd Honor
King. Welcome hither:I haue begun to plant thee, and will labourTo make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,That hast no lesse deseru'd, nor must be knowneNo lesse to haue done so: Let me enfold thee,And hold thee to my Heart
Banq. There if I grow,The Haruest is your owne
King. My plenteous Ioyes,Wanton in fulnesse, seeke to hide themseluesIn drops of sorrow. Sonnes, Kinsmen, Thanes,And you whose places are the nearest, know,We will establish our Estate vponOur eldest, Malcolme, whom we name hereafter,The Prince of Cumberland: which Honor mustNot vnaccompanied, inuest him onely,But signes of Noblenesse, like Starres, shall shineOn all deseruers. From hence to Envernes,And binde vs further to you
Macb. The Rest is Labor, which is not vs'd for you:Ile be my selfe the Herbenger, and make ioyfullThe hearing of my Wife, with your approach:So humbly take my leaue
King. My worthy Cawdor
Macb. The Prince of Cumberland: that is a step,On which I must fall downe, or else o're-leape,For in my way it lyes. Starres hide your fires,Let not Light see my black and deepe desires:The Eye winke at the Hand: yet let that bee,Which the Eye feares, when it is done to see.Enter.
King. True worthy Banquo: he is full so valiant,And in his commendations, I am fed:It is a Banquet to me. Let's after him,Whose care is gone before, to bid vs welcome:It is a peerelesse Kinsman.
Flourish. Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Macbeths Wife alone with a Letter.
Lady. They met me in the day of successe: and I haue learn'd by the perfect'st report, they haue more in them, then mortall knowledge. When I burnt in desire to question them further, they made themselues Ayre, into which they vanish'd. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came Missiues from the King, who all-hail'd me Thane of Cawdor, by which Title before, these weyward Sisters saluted me, and referr'd me to the comming on of time, with haile King that shalt be. This haue I thought good to deliuer thee (my dearest Partner of Greatnesse) that thou might'st not loose the dues of reioycing by being ignorant of what Greatnesse is promis'd thee. Lay it to thy heart and farewell. Glamys thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promis'd: yet doe I feare thy Nature, It is too full o'th' Milke of humane kindnesse, To catch the neerest way. Thou would'st be great, Art not without Ambition, but without The illnesse should attend it. What thou would'st highly, That would'st thou holily: would'st not play false, And yet would'st wrongly winne. Thould'st haue, great Glamys, that which cryes, Thus thou must doe, if thou haue it; And that which rather thou do'st feare to doe, Then wishest should be vndone. High thee hither, That I may powre my Spirits in thine Eare, And chastise with the valour of my Tongue All that impeides thee from the Golden Round, Which Fate and Metaphysicall ayde doth seeme To haue thee crown'd withall. Enter Messenger.
What is your tidings?Mess. The King comes here to Night
Lady. Thou'rt mad to say it.Is not thy Master with him? who, wer't so,Would haue inform'd for preparation
Mess. So please you, it is true: our Thane is comming:One of my fellowes had the speed of him;Who almost dead for breath, had scarcely moreThen would make vp his Message
Lady. Giue him tending,He brings great newes,
Exit Messenger.
The Rauen himselfe is hoarse,That croakes the fatall entrance of DuncanVnder my Battlements. Come you Spirits,That tend on mortall thoughts, vnsex me here,And fill me from the Crowne to the Toe, top-fullOf direst Crueltie: make thick my blood,Stop vp th' accesse, and passage to Remorse,That no compunctious visitings of NatureShake my fell purpose, nor keepe peace betweeneTh' effect, and hit. Come to my Womans Brests,And take my Milke for Gall, you murth'ring Ministers,Where-euer, in your sightlesse substances,You wait on Natures Mischiefe. Come thick Night,And pall thee in the dunnest smoake of Hell,That my keene Knife see not the Wound it makes,Nor Heauen peepe through the Blanket of the darke,To cry, hold, hold.Enter Macbeth.
Great Glamys, worthy Cawdor,Greater then both, by the all-haile hereafter,Thy Letters haue transported me beyondThis ignorant present, and I feele nowThe future in the instant
Macb. My dearest Loue,Duncan comes here to Night
Lady. And when goes hence?Macb. To morrow, as he purposes
Lady. O neuer,Shall Sunne that Morrow see.Your Face, my Thane, is as a Booke, where menMay reade strange matters, to beguile the time.Looke like the time, beare welcome in your Eye,Your Hand, your Tongue: looke like th' innocent flower,But be the Serpent vnder't. He that's comming,Must be prouided for: and you shall putThis Nights great Businesse into my dispatch,Which shall to all our Nights, and Dayes to come,Giue solely soueraigne sway, and Masterdome
Macb. We will speake further,Lady. Onely looke vp cleare:To alter fauor, euer is to feare:Leaue all the rest to me.
Exeunt.
Scena Sexta.
Hoboyes, and Torches. Enter King, Malcolme, Donalbaine,Banquo, Lenox,Macduff, Rosse, Angus, and Attendants.
King. This Castle hath a pleasant seat,The ayre nimbly and sweetly recommends it selfeVnto our gentle sences
Banq. This Guest of Summer,The Temple-haunting Barlet does approue,By his loued Mansonry, that the Heauens breathSmells wooingly here: no Iutty frieze,Buttrice, nor Coigne of Vantage, but this BirdHath made his pendant Bed, and procreant Cradle,Where they must breed, and haunt: I haue obseru'dThe ayre is delicate.Enter Lady.
King. See, see our honor'd Hostesse:The Loue that followes vs, sometime is our trouble,Which still we thanke as Loue. Herein I teach you,How you shall bid God-eyld vs for your paines,And thanke vs for your trouble
Lady. All our seruice,In euery point twice done, and then done double,Were poore, and single Businesse, to contendAgainst those Honors deepe, and broad,Wherewith your Maiestie loades our House:For those of old, and the late Dignities,Heap'd vp to them, we rest your Ermites
King. Where's the Thane of Cawdor?We courst him at the heeles, and had a purposeTo be his Purueyor: But he rides well,And his great Loue (sharpe as his Spurre) hath holp himTo his home before vs: Faire and Noble HostesseWe are your guest to night
La. Your Seruants euer,Haue theirs, themselues, and what is theirs in compt,To make their Audit at your Highnesse pleasure,Still to returne your owne
King. Giue me your hand:Conduct me to mine Host we loue him highly,And shall continue, our Graces towards him.By your leaue Hostesse.
Exeunt.
Scena Septima.
Hoboyes. Torches. Enter a Sewer, and diuers Seruants with DishesandSeruice ouer the Stage. Then enter Macbeth
Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twer well,It were done quickly: If th' AssassinationCould trammell vp the Consequence, and catchWith his surcease, Successe: that but this blowMight be the be all, and the end all. Heere,But heere, vpon this Banke and Schoole of time,Wee'ld iumpe the life to come. But in these Cases,We still haue iudgement heere, that we but teachBloody Instructions, which being taught, returneTo plague th' Inuenter, this euen-handed IusticeCommends th' Ingredience of our poyson'd ChalliceTo our owne lips. Hee's heere in double trust;First, as I am his Kinsman, and his Subiect,Strong both against the Deed: Then, as his Host,Who should against his Murtherer shut the doore,Not beare the knife my selfe. Besides, this DuncaneHath borne his Faculties so meeke; hath binSo cleere in his great Office, that his VertuesWill pleade like Angels, Trumpet-tongu'd againstThe deepe damnation of his taking off:And Pitty, like a naked New-borne-Babe,Striding the blast, or Heauens Cherubin, hors'dVpon the sightlesse Curriors of the Ayre,Shall blow the horrid deed in euery eye,That teares shall drowne the winde. I haue no SpurreTo pricke the sides of my intent, but onelyVaulting Ambition, which ore-leapes it selfe,And falles on th' other.Enter Lady.
How now? What Newes?La. He has almost supt: why haue you left the chamber?Mac. Hath he ask'd for me?La. Know you not, he ha's?Mac. We will proceed no further in this Businesse:He hath Honour'd me of late, and I haue boughtGolden Opinions from all sorts of people,Which would be worne now in their newest glosse,Not cast aside so soone
La. Was the hope drunke,Wherein you drest your selfe? Hath it slept since?And wakes it now to looke so greene, and pale,At what it did so freely? From this time,Such I account thy loue. Art thou affear'dTo be the same in thine owne Act, and Valour,As thou art in desire? Would'st thou haue thatWhich thou esteem'st the Ornament of Life,And liue a Coward in thine owne Esteeme?Letting I dare not, wait vpon I would,Like the poore Cat i'th' Addage
Macb. Prythee peace:I dare do all that may become a man,Who dares do more, is none
La. What Beast was't thenThat made you breake this enterprize to me?When you durst do it, then you were a man:And to be more then what you were, you wouldBe so much more the man. Nor time, nor placeDid then adhere, and yet you would make both:They haue made themselues, and that their fitnesse nowDo's vnmake you. I haue giuen Sucke, and knowHow tender 'tis to loue the Babe that milkes me,I would, while it was smyling in my Face,Haue pluckt my Nipple from his Bonelesse Gummes,And dasht the Braines out, had I so sworneAs you haue done to this
Macb. If we should faile?Lady. We faile?But screw your courage to the sticking place,And wee'le not fayle: when Duncan is asleepe,(Whereto the rather shall his dayes hard IourneySoundly inuite him) his two ChamberlainesWill I with Wine, and Wassell, so conuince,That Memorie, the Warder of the Braine,Shall be a Fume, and the Receit of ReasonA Lymbeck onely: when in Swinish sleepe,Their drenched Natures lyes as in a Death,What cannot you and I performe vponTh' vnguarded Duncan? What not put vponHis spungie Officers? who shall beare the guiltOf our great quell
Macb. Bring forth Men-Children onely:For thy vndaunted Mettle should composeNothing but Males. Will it not be receiu'd,When we haue mark'd with blood those sleepie twoOf his owne Chamber, and vs'd their very Daggers,That they haue don't?Lady. Who dares receiue it other,As we shall make our Griefes and Clamor rore,Vpon his Death?Macb. I am settled, and bend vpEach corporall Agent to this terrible Feat.Away, and mock the time with fairest show,False Face must hide what the false Heart doth know.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Banquo, and Fleance, with a Torch before him.
Banq. How goes the Night, Boy?Fleance. The Moone is downe: I haue not heard theClock
Banq. And she goes downe at Twelue
Fleance. I take't, 'tis later, Sir
Banq. Hold, take my Sword:There's Husbandry in Heauen,Their Candles are all out: take thee that too.A heauie Summons lyes like Lead vpon me,And yet I would not sleepe:Mercifull Powers, restraine in me the cursed thoughtsThat Nature giues way to in repose.Enter Macbeth, and a Seruant with a Torch.
Giue me my Sword: who's there?Macb. A Friend
Banq. What Sir, not yet at rest? the King's a bed.He hath beene in vnusuall Pleasure,And sent forth great Largesse to your Offices.This Diamond he greetes your Wife withall,By the name of most kind Hostesse,And shut vp in measurelesse content
Mac. Being vnprepar'd,Our will became the seruant to defect,Which else should free haue wrought
Banq. All's well.I dreamt last Night of the three weyward Sisters:To you they haue shew'd some truth
Macb. I thinke not of them:Yet when we can entreat an houre to serue,We would spend it in some words vpon that Businesse,If you would graunt the time
Banq. At your kind'st leysure
Macb. If you shall cleaue to my consent,When 'tis, it shall make Honor for you
Banq. So I lose none,In seeking to augment it, but still keepeMy Bosome franchis'd, and Allegeance cleare,I shall be counsail'd
Macb. Good repose the while
Banq. Thankes Sir: the like to you.
Exit Banquo.
Macb. Goe bid thy Mistresse, when my drinke is ready,She strike vpon the Bell. Get thee to bed.Enter.
Is this a Dagger, which I see before me,The Handle toward my Hand? Come, let me clutch thee:I haue thee not, and yet I see thee still.Art thou not fatall Vision, sensibleTo feeling, as to sight? or art thou butA Dagger of the Minde, a false Creation,Proceeding from the heat-oppressed Braine?I see thee yet, in forme 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 vse.Mine Eyes are made the fooles o'th' other Sences,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 Businesse, which informesThus to mine Eyes. Now o're the one halfe WorldNature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuseThe Curtain'd sleepe: Witchcraft celebratesPale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd Murther,Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe,Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace,With Tarquins rauishing sides, towards his designeMoues like a Ghost. Thou sowre and firme-set EarthHeare not my steps, which they may walke, for feareThy very stones prate of my where-about,And take the present horror from the time,Which now sutes with it. Whiles I threat, he liues:Words to the heat of deedes too cold breath giues.
A Bell rings.
I goe, and it is done: the Bell inuites me.Heare it not, Duncan, for it is a Knell,That summons thee to Heauen, or to Hell.Enter.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Lady.
La. That which hath made the[m] drunk, hath made me bold:What hath quench'd them, hath giuen me fire.Hearke, peace: it was the Owle that shriek'd,The fatall Bell-man, which giues the stern'st good-night.He is about it, the Doores are open:And the surfeted Groomes doe mock their chargeWith Snores. I haue drugg'd their Possets,That Death and Nature doe contend about them,Whether they liue, or dye.Enter Macbeth.
Macb. Who's there? what hoa?Lady. Alack, I am afraid they haue awak'd,And 'tis not done: th' attempt, and not the deed,Confounds vs: hearke: I lay'd their Daggers ready,He could not misse 'em. Had he not resembledMy Father as he slept, I had don't.My Husband?Macb. I haue done the deed:Didst thou not heare a noyse?Lady. I heard the Owle schreame, and the Crickets cry.Did not you speake?Macb. When?Lady. Now
Macb. As I descended?Lady. I
Macb. Hearke, who lyes i'th' second Chamber?Lady. Donalbaine
Mac. This is a sorry sight
Lady. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight
Macb. There's one did laugh in's sleepe,And one cry'd Murther, that they did wake each other:I stood, and heard them: But they did say their Prayers,And addrest them againe to sleepe
Lady. There are two lodg'd together
Macb. One cry'd God blesse vs, and Amen the other,As they had seene me with these Hangmans hands:Listning their feare, I could not say Amen,When they did say God blesse vs
Lady. Consider it not so deepely
Mac. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen?I had most need of Blessing, and Amen stuck in my throat
Lady. These deeds must not be thoughtAfter these wayes: so, it will make vs mad
Macb. Me thought I heard a voyce cry, Sleep no more:Macbeth does murther Sleepe, the innocent Sleepe,Sleepe that knits vp the rauel'd Sleeue of Care,The death of each dayes Life, sore Labors Bath,Balme of hurt Mindes, great Natures second Course,Chiefe nourisher in Life's Feast
Lady. What doe you meane?Macb. Still it cry'd, Sleepe no more to all the House:Glamis hath murther'd Sleepe, and therefore CawdorShall sleepe no more: Macbeth shall sleepe no more
Lady. Who was it, that thus cry'd? why worthy Thane,You doe vnbend your Noble strength, to thinkeSo braine-sickly of things: Goe get some Water,And wash this filthie Witnesse from your Hand.Why did you bring these Daggers from the place?They must lye there: goe carry them, and smeareThe sleepie Groomes with blood
Macb. Ile goe no more:I am afraid, to thinke what I haue done:Looke on't againe, I dare not
Lady. Infirme of purpose:Giue me the Daggers: the sleeping, and the dead,Are but as Pictures: 'tis the Eye of Childhood,That feares a painted Deuill. If he doe bleed,Ile guild the Faces of the Groomes withall,For it must seeme their Guilt.Enter.
Knocke within.
Macb. Whence is that knocking?How is't with me, when euery noyse appalls me?What Hands are here? hah: they pluck out mine Eyes.Will all great Neptunes Ocean wash this bloodCleane from my Hand? no: this my Hand will ratherThe multitudinous Seas incarnardine,Making the Greene one, Red.Enter Lady.
Lady. My Hands are of your colour: but I shameTo weare a Heart so white.
Knocke.
I heare a knocking at the South entry:Retyre we to our Chamber:A little Water cleares vs of this deed.How easie is it then? your ConstancieHath left you vnattended.
Knocke.
Hearke, more knocking.Get on your Night-Gowne, least occasion call vs,And shew vs to be Watchers: be not lostSo poorely in your thoughts
Macb. To know my deed,
Knocke.
'Twere best not know my selfe.Wake Duncan with thy knocking:I would thou could'st.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter a Porter. Knocking within.
Porter. Here's a knocking indeede: if a man werePorter of Hell Gate, hee should haue old turning theKey.
Knock.
Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there i'th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd himselfe on th' expectation of Plentie: Come in time, haue Napkins enow about you, here you'le sweat for't.
Knock.
Knock, knock. Who's there in th' other Deuils Name? Faith here's an Equiuocator, that could sweare in both the Scales against eyther Scale, who committed Treason enough for Gods sake, yet could not equiuocate to Heauen: oh come in, Equiuocator.
Knock.
Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there? 'Faith here's an EnglishTaylor come hither, for stealing out of a French Hose:Come in Taylor, here you may rost your Goose.Knock.
Knock, Knock. Neuer at quiet: What are you? but this place is too cold for Hell. Ile Deuill-Porter it no further: I had thought to haue let in some of all Professions, that goe the Primrose way to th' euerlasting Bonfire.
Knock.
Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter.Enter Macduff, and Lenox.
Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to Bed,That you doe lye so late?Port. Faith Sir, we were carowsing till the second Cock:And Drinke, Sir, is a great prouoker of three things
Macd. What three things does Drinke especially prouoke? Port. Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleepe, and Vrine. Lecherie, Sir, it prouokes, and vnprouokes: it prouokes the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore much Drinke may be said to be an Equiuocator with Lecherie: it makes him, and it marres him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it perswades him, and dis-heartens him; makes him stand too, and not stand too: in conclusion, equiuocates him in a sleepe, and giuing him the Lye, leaues him
Macd. I beleeue, Drinke gaue thee the Lye last Night
Port. That it did, Sir, i'the very Throat on me: but I requited him for his Lye, and (I thinke) being too strong for him, though he tooke vp my Legges sometime, yet I made a Shift to cast him. Enter Macbeth.
Macd. Is thy Master stirring?Our knocking ha's awak'd him: here he comes
Lenox. 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 haue almost slipt the houre
Macb. Ile bring you to him
Macd. I know this is a ioyfull trouble to you:But yet 'tis one
Macb. The labour we delight in, Physicks paine:This is the Doore
Macd. Ile make so bold to call, for 'tis my limittedseruice.
Exit Macduffe.
Lenox. Goes the King hence to day?Macb. He does: he did appoint so
Lenox. The Night ha's been vnruly:Where we lay, our Chimneys were blowne downe,And (as they say) lamentings heard i'th' Ayre;Strange Schreemes of Death,And Prophecying, with Accents terrible,Of dyre Combustion, and confus'd Euents,New hatch'd toth' wofull time.The obscure Bird clamor'd the liue-long Night.Some say, the Earth was Feuorous,And did shake
Macb. 'Twas a rough Night
Lenox. My young remembrance cannot paralellA fellow to it.Enter Macduff.
Macd. O horror, horror, horror,Tongue nor Heart cannot conceiue, nor name thee
Macb. and Lenox. What's the matter?Macd. Confusion now hath made his Master-peece:Most sacrilegious Murther hath broke opeThe Lords anoynted Temple, and stole thenceThe Life o'th' Building
Macb. What is't you say, the Life?Lenox. Meane you his Maiestie?Macd. Approch the Chamber, and destroy your sightWith a new Gorgon. Doe not bid me speake:See, and then speake your selues: awake, awake,
Exeunt. Macbeth and Lenox.
Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason,Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolme awake,Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit,And looke on Death it selfe: vp, vp, and seeThe great Doomes Image: Malcolme, Banquo,As from your Graues rise vp, and walke like Sprights,To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell.
Bell rings. Enter Lady.
Lady. What's the Businesse?That such a hideous Trumpet calls to parleyThe sleepers of the House? speake, speake
Macd. O gentle Lady,'Tis not for you to heare what I can speake:The repetition in a Womans eare,Would murther as it fell.Enter Banquo.
O Banquo, Banquo, Our Royall Master's murther'd
Lady. Woe, alas:What, in our House?Ban. Too cruell, any where.Deare Duff, I prythee contradict thy selfe,And say, it is not so.Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Rosse.
Macb. Had I but dy'd an houre before this chance,I had liu'd a blessed time: for from this instant,There's nothing serious in Mortalitie:All is but Toyes: Renowne and Grace is dead,The Wine of Life is drawne, and the meere LeesIs left this Vault, to brag of.Enter Malcolme and Donalbaine.
Donal. What is amisse?Macb. You are, and doe not know't:The Spring, the Head, the Fountaine of your BloodIs stopt, the very Source of it is stopt
Macd. Your Royall Father's murther'd
Mal. Oh, by whom?Lenox. Those of his Chamber, as it seem'd, had don't:Their Hands and Faces were all badg'd with blood,So were their Daggers, which vnwip'd, we foundVpon their Pillowes: they star'd, and were distracted,No mans Life was to be trusted with them
Macb. O, yet I doe repent me of my furie,That I did kill them
Macd. Wherefore did you so?Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temp'rate, & furious,Loyall, and Neutrall, in a moment? No man:Th' expedition of my violent LoueOut-run the pawser, Reason. Here lay Duncan,His Siluer skinne, lac'd with His Golden Blood,And his gash'd Stabs, look'd like a Breach in Nature,For Ruines wastfull entrance: there the Murtherers,Steep'd in the Colours of their Trade; their DaggersVnmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refraine,That had a heart to loue; and in that heart,Courage, to make's loue knowne?Lady. Helpe me hence, hoa
Macd. Looke to the Lady
Mal. Why doe we hold our tongues,That most may clayme this argument for ours?Donal. What should be spoken here,Where our Fate hid in an augure hole,May rush, and seize vs? Let's away,Our Teares are not yet brew'd
Mal. Nor our strong SorrowVpon the foot of Motion
Banq. Looke to the Lady:And when we haue our naked Frailties hid,That suffer in exposure; let vs meet,And question this most bloody piece of worke,To know it further. Feares and scruples shake vs:In the great Hand of God I stand, and thence,Against the vndivulg'd pretence, I fightOf Treasonous Mallice
Macd. And so doe I
All. So all
Macb. Let's briefely put on manly readinesse,And meet i'th' Hall together
All. Well contented.
Exeunt.
Malc. What will you doe?Let's not consort with them:To shew an vnfelt Sorrow, is an OfficeWhich the false man do's easie.Ile to England
Don. To Ireland, I:Our seperated fortune shall keepe vs both the safer:Where we are, there's Daggers in mens smiles;The neere in blood, the neerer bloody
Malc. This murtherous Shaft that's shot,Hath not yet lighted: and our safest way,Is to auoid the ayme. Therefore to Horse,And let vs not be daintie of leaue-taking,But shift away: there's warrant in that Theft,Which steales it selfe, when there's no mercie left.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Rosse, with an Old man.
Old man. Threescore and ten I can remember well,Within the Volume of which Time, I haue seeneHoures dreadfull, and things strange: but this sore NightHath trifled former knowings
Rosse. Ha, good Father,Thou seest the Heauens, as troubled with mans Act,Threatens his bloody Stage: byth' Clock 'tis Day,And yet darke Night strangles the trauailing Lampe:Is't Nights predominance, or the Dayes shame,That Darknesse does the face of Earth intombe,When liuing Light should kisse it?Old man. 'Tis vnnaturall,Euen like the deed that's done: On Tuesday last,A Faulcon towring in her pride of place,Was by a Mowsing Owle hawkt at, and kill'd
Rosse. And Duncans Horses,(A thing most strange, and certaine)Beauteous, and swift, the Minions of their Race,Turn'd wilde in nature, broke their stalls, flong out,Contending 'gainst Obedience, as they wouldMake Warre with Mankinde
Old man. 'Tis said, they eate each other
Rosse. They did so:To th' amazement of mine eyes that look'd vpon't.Enter Macduffe.
Heere comes the good Macduffe.How goes the world Sir, now?Macd. Why see you not?Ross. Is't known who did this more then bloody deed?Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slaine
Ross. Alas the day,What good could they pretend?Macd. They were subborned,Malcolme, and Donalbaine the Kings two SonnesAre stolne away and fled, which puts vpon themSuspition of the deed
Rosse. 'Gainst Nature still,Thriftlesse Ambition, that will rauen vpThine owne liues meanes: Then 'tis most like,The Soueraignty will fall vpon Macbeth
Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to SconeTo be inuested
Rosse. Where is Duncans body?Macd. Carried to Colmekill,The Sacred Store-house of his Predecessors,And Guardian of their Bones
Rosse. Will you to Scone?Macd. No Cosin, Ile to Fife
Rosse. Well, I will thither
Macd. Well may you see things wel done there: AdieuLeast our old Robes sit easier then our new
Rosse. Farewell, Father
Old M. Gods benyson go with you, and with thoseThat would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes.
Exeunt. omnes
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Banquo.
Banq. Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,As the weyard Women promis'd, and I feareThou playd'st most fowly for't: yet it was saideIt should not stand in thy Posterity,But that my selfe should be the Roote, and FatherOf many Kings. If there come truth from them,As vpon thee Macbeth, their Speeches shine,Why by the verities on thee made good,May they not be my Oracles as well,And set me vp in hope. But hush, no more.
Senit sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Lenox, Rosse, Lords,andAttendants.
Macb. Heere's our chiefe Guest
La. If he had beene forgotten,It had bene as a gap in our great Feast,And all-thing vnbecomming
Macb. To night we hold a solemne Supper sir,And Ile request your presence
Banq. Let your HighnesseCommand vpon me, to the which my dutiesAre with a most indissoluble tyeFor euer knit
Macb. Ride you this afternoone?Ban. I, my good Lord
Macb. We should haue else desir'd your good aduice(Which still hath been both graue, and prosperous)In this dayes Councell: but wee'le take to morrow.Is't farre you ride?Ban. As farre, my Lord, as will fill vp the time'Twixt this, and Supper. Goe not my Horse the better,I must become a borrower of the Night,For a darke houre, or twaine
Macb. Faile not our Feast
Ban. My Lord, I will not
Macb. We heare our bloody Cozens are bestow'dIn England, and in Ireland, not confessingTheir cruell Parricide, filling their hearersWith strange inuention. But of that to morrow,When therewithall, we shall haue cause of State,Crauing vs ioyntly. Hye you to Horse:Adieu, till you returne at Night.Goes Fleance with you?Ban. I, my good Lord: our time does call vpon's
Macb. I wish your Horses swift, and sure of foot:And so I doe commend you to their backs.Farwell.
Exit Banquo.
Let euery man be master of his time,Till seuen at Night, to make societieThe sweeter welcome:We will keepe our selfe till Supper time alone:While then, God be with you.
Exeunt. Lords.
Sirrha, a word with you: Attend those menOur pleasure?Seruant. They are, my Lord, without the PallaceGate
Macb. Bring them before vs.
Exit Seruant.
To be thus, is nothing, but to be safely thusOur feares in Banquo sticke deepe,And in his Royaltie of Nature reignes thatWhich would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares,And to that dauntlesse temper of his Minde,He hath a Wisdome, that doth guide his Valour,To act in safetie. There is none but he,Whose being I doe feare: and vnder him,My Genius is rebuk'd, as it is saidMark Anthonies was by Caesar. He chid the Sisters,When first they put the Name of King vpon me,And bad them speake to him. Then Prophet-like,They hayl'd him Father to a Line of Kings.Vpon my Head they plac'd a fruitlesse Crowne,And put a barren Scepter in my Gripe,Thence to be wrencht with an vnlineall Hand,No Sonne of mine succeeding: if't be so,For Banquo's Issue haue I fil'd my Minde,For them, the gracious Duncan haue I murther'd,Put Rancours in the Vessell of my PeaceOnely for them, and mine eternall IewellGiuen to the common Enemie of Man,To make them Kings, the Seedes of Banquo Kings.Rather then so, come Fate into the Lyst,And champion me to th' vtterance.Who's there?Enter Seruant, and two Murtherers.
Now goe to the Doore, and stay there till we call.
Exit Seruant.
Was it not yesterday we spoke together?Murth. It was, so please your Highnesse
Macb. Well then,Now haue you consider'd of my speeches:Know, that it was he, in the times past,Which held you so vnder fortune,Which you thought had been our innocent selfe.This I made good to you, in our last conference,Past in probation with you:How you were borne in hand, how crost:The Instruments: who wrought with them:And all things else, that mightTo halfe a Soule, and to a Notion craz'd,Say, Thus did Banquo
1.Murth. You made it knowne to vs
Macb. I did so:And went further, which is nowOur point of second meeting.Doe you finde your patience so predominant,In your nature, that you can let this goe?Are you so Gospell'd, to pray for this good man,And for his Issue, whose heauie handHath bow'd you to the Graue, and begger'dYours for euer?1.Murth. We are men, my Liege
Macb. I, in the Catalogue ye goe for men,As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mungrels, Spaniels, Curres,Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolues are cliptAll by the Name of Dogges: the valued fileDistinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,The House-keeper, the Hunter, euery oneAccording to the gift, which bounteous NatureHath in him clos'd: whereby he does receiueParticular addition, from the Bill,That writes them all alike: and so of men.Now, if you haue a station in the file,Not i'th' worst ranke of Manhood, say't,And I will put that Businesse in your Bosomes,Whose execution takes your Enemie off,Grapples you to the heart; and loue of vs,Who weare our Health but sickly in his Life,Which in his Death were perfect
2.Murth. I am one, my Liege,Whom the vile Blowes and Buffets of the WorldHath so incens'd, that I am recklesse what I doe,To spight the World
1.Murth. And I another,So wearie with Disasters, tugg'd with Fortune,That I would set my Life on any Chance,To mend it, or be rid on't
Macb. Both of you know Banquo was your Enemie
Murth. True, my Lord
Macb. So is he mine: and in such bloody distance,That euery minute of his being, thrustsAgainst my neer'st of Life: and though I couldWith bare-fac'd power sweepe him from my sight,And bid my will auouch it; yet I must not,For certaine friends that are both his, and mine,Whose loues I may not drop, but wayle his fall,Who I my selfe struck downe: and thence it is,That I to your assistance doe make loue,Masking the Businesse from the common Eye,For sundry weightie Reasons
2.Murth. We shall, my Lord,Performe what you command vs
1.Murth. Though our Liues-Macb. Your Spirits shine through you.Within this houre, at most,I will aduise you where to plant your selues,Acquaint you with the perfect Spy o'th' time,The moment on't, for't must be done to Night,And something from the Pallace: alwayes thought,That I require a clearenesse; and with him,To leaue no Rubs nor Botches in the Worke:Fleans , his Sonne, that keepes him companie,Whose absence is no lesse materiall to me,Then is his Fathers, must embrace the fateOf that darke houre: resolue your selues apart,Ile come to you anon
Murth. We are resolu'd, my Lord
Macb. Ile call vpon you straight: abide within,It is concluded: Banquo, thy Soules flight,If it finde Heauen, must finde it out to Night.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Macbeths Lady, and a Seruant.
Lady. Is Banquo gone from Court?Seruant. I, Madame, but returnes againe to Night
Lady. Say to the King, I would attend his leysure,For a few words
Seruant. Madame, I will.Enter.
Lady. Nought's had, all's spent.Where our desire is got without content:'Tis safer, to be that which we destroy,Then by destruction dwell in doubtfull ioy.Enter Macbeth.
How now, my Lord, why doe you keepe alone?Of sorryest Fancies your Companions making,Vsing those Thoughts, which should indeed haue dy'dWith them they thinke on: things without all remedieShould be without regard: what's done, is done
Macb. We haue scorch'd the Snake, not kill'd it:Shee'le close, and be her selfe, whilest our poore MalliceRemaines in danger of her former Tooth.But let the frame of things dis-ioynt,Both the Worlds suffer,Ere we will eate our Meale in feare, and sleepeIn the affliction of these terrible Dreames,That shake vs Nightly: Better be with the dead,Whom we, to gayne our peace, haue sent to peace,Then on the torture of the Minde to lyeIn restlesse extasie.Duncane is in his Graue:After Lifes fitfull Feuer, he sleepes well,Treason ha's done his worst: nor Steele, nor Poyson,Mallice domestique, forraine Leuie, nothing,Can touch him further
Lady. Come on:Gentle my Lord, sleeke o're your rugged Lookes,Be bright and Iouiall among your Guests to Night
Macb. So shall I Loue, and so I pray be you:Let your remembrance apply to Banquo,Present him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue:Vnsafe the while, that wee must laueOur Honors in these flattering streames,And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts,Disguising what they are
Lady. You must leaue this
Macb. O, full of Scorpions is my Minde, deare Wife:Thou know'st, that Banquo and his Fleans liues
Lady. But in them, Natures Coppie's not eterne
Macb. There's comfort yet, they are assaileable,Then be thou iocund: ere the Bat hath flowneHis Cloyster'd flight, ere to black Heccats summonsThe shard-borne Beetle, with his drowsie hums,Hath rung Nights yawning Peale,There shall be done a deed of dreadfull note
Lady. What's to be done?Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck,Till thou applaud the deed: Come, seeling Night,Skarfe vp the tender Eye of pittifull Day,And with thy bloodie and inuisible HandCancell and teare to pieces that great Bond,Which keepes me pale. Light thickens,And the Crow makes Wing toth' Rookie Wood:Good things of Day begin to droope, and drowse,Whiles Nights black Agents to their Prey's doe rowse.Thou maruell'st at my words: but hold thee still,Things bad begun, make strong themselues by ill:So prythee goe with me.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter three Murtherers.
1. But who did bid thee ioyne with vs? 3. Macbeth
2. He needes not our mistrust, since he deliuers Our Offices, and what we haue to doe, To the direction iust
1. Then stand with vs:The West yet glimmers with some streakes of Day.Now spurres the lated Traueller apace,To gayne the timely Inne, and neere approchesThe subiect of our Watch
3. Hearke, I heare Horses
Banquo within. Giue vs a Light there, hoa
2. Then 'tis hee: The rest, that are within the note of expectation, Alreadie are i'th' Court
1. His Horses goe about
3. Almost a mile: but he does vsually,So all men doe, from hence toth' Pallace GateMake it their Walke.Enter Banquo and Fleans, with a Torch.
2. A Light, a Light
3. 'Tis hee
1. Stand too't
Ban. It will be Rayne to Night
1. Let it come downe
Ban. O, Trecherie!Flye good Fleans, flye, flye, flye,Thou may'st reuenge. O Slaue!3. Who did strike out the Light?1. Was't not the way?3. There's but one downe: the Sonne is fled