324

Who comes here?

Mal.

Enter Rosse.

MACBETH.

The worthy thane of Rosse. Len. What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look,

That seems to speak things strange.

Rosse.
God save the king!
Dun. Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane?
Rosse.
From Fife, great king,

Where the Norweyan banners flout! the sky,
And fan our people cold.

Norway himself, with terrible numbers,
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor

The thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict:
Till that Bellona's bridegroom,2 lapp'd in proof,3
Confronted him with self-comparisons,
Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit: And, to conclude,
The victory fell on us ;-

Dun.

Rosse. That now

Great happiness!

Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes' inch,
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall de-
ceive

Our bosom interest :-Go, pronounce his death,
And with his former title greet Macbeth.

Rosse. I'll see it done.

Give me, quoth I:

Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyons cries.
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o'the Tiger:
But in a sieve I'll thither sail,

And, like a rat without a tail,
I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.

2 Witch. I'll give thee a wind.

1 Witch. Thou art kind.

3 Witch. And I another.

1 Witch. I myself have all the other;
And the very ports they blow,
All the quarters that they know
I'the shipman's card.

I will drain him dry as hay:
Sleep shall, neither night nor day,
Hang upon his pent-house lid;
He shall live a man forbid :7
Weary sev'n-nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine:
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd.
Look what I have.

,2 Witch. Show me, show me.

1 Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wreck'd, as homeward he did come.

3 Witch. A drum, a drum;

Macbeth doth come.

(1) Mock.

[Drum within.

(2) Shakspeare means Mars.

(3) Defended by armour of proof. (4) Avaunt, begone.

(5) A scurvy woman fed on offals.

(6) Sailor's chart.

(7) Accursed.

All. The weird sisters,8 hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land,
Thus do go about, about;

Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again, to make up nine:
Peace!-the charm's wound up.

Enter Macbeth and Banquo.

Act L

Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Ban. How far is't call'd to Fores?-What are

these,

So wither'd, and so wild in their attire ;
That look not like the inhabitants o'the earth,
And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught
That man may question? You seem to understand

me,

By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips: -You should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.

Macb. Speak, if you can;-What are you?
1 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane
of Glamis !

2 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!

3 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king

hereafter.

Ban. Good sir, why do you start; and seem to

fear,

Things that do sound so fair?-I'the name of truth,
Are ye fantastical, or that indeed

Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace, and great prediction
Of noble having,10 and of royal hope,
That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not.
If you can look into the seeds of time,

And say, which grain will grow, and which will not
Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear,
Your favours, nor your hate.

1 Witch. Hail!

2 Witch. Hail!
3 Witch. Hail!

1 Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
2 Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier.
3 Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be

none:

So, all hail, Macbeth, and Banquo!

1 Witch. Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail!
Mach. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
By Sinel's death, I know, I am thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
A prosperous gentleman; and to be king,
Stands not within the prospect of belief,
No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence
You owe this strange intelligence? or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
With such prophetic greeting?-Speak, I charge
[Witches vanish.
Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
And these are of them:-Whither are they vanish'd?
Macb. Into the air; and what seem'à corporal,

Macb. And thane of Cawdor too; went it not so? Ban. To the self-same tune, and words. Who's here?

Enter Rosse and Angus.

Rosse. The king hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,
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 self-same day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as tale,1
Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
And pour'd them down before him.

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 Cawdor:
In which addition,2 hail, most worthy thane !
For it is thine.

Ban.
What, can the devil speak true?
Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives; Why do
you dress me

In borrow'd robes?

Very gladly.
Macb. Till then, enough.-Come, friends. [Exe.

SCENE IV-Fores. A room in the palace.
Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain
Lenox, and attendants.

Dun. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not
Those in commission yet return'd?
Mal.
My liege,
They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die: who did report,

Ang.
Who was the thane, lives yet; That very frankly he confess'd his treasons;
But under heavy judgment bears that life Implor'd your highness' pardon; and set forth
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was
A deep repentance: nothing in his life
Combin'd with Norway; or did line the rebel Became him, like the leaving it: he died
With hidden help and vantage; or that with both As one that had been studied in his death,
He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not; To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,10
But treasons capital, confess'd, and prov'd, As 'twere a careless trifle.
Have overthrown him.
Dun.
There's no art,
To find the mind's construction in the face :"1
He was a gentleman on whom I built
An absolute trust.-O worthiest cousin!

Macb.
Glamis, the thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behind.-Thanks for your pains.
Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no less to them?

Two truths are told,

As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen.
This supernatural soliciting4

Cannot be ill; cannot be good: If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
If good, why do I yield to that suggestions
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings:

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man, that function
Is smother'd in surmise ;7 and nothing is,
But what is not.

Ban.
Look, how our partner's rapt.
Macb. If chance will have me king, why, chance
may crown me,

(1) As fast as they could be counted. (2) Title.

(3) Stimulate.

(4) Encitement.
(6) Firmly fixed.

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.
The sin of my ingratitude even now
Was heavy on me: Thou art so far before,
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
To overtake thee. 'Would thou hadst less deserv'd;
That the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
More is thy due than more than all can pay.

Macb. The service and the loyalty I owe,
In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
Is to receive our duties: and our duties

Are to your throne and state, children, and servants
Which do but what they should, by doing every

thing

Safe toward your love and honour.
Dun.

Welcome hither:

(10) Owned, possessed.

(9) Pardon.

(11) We cannot construe the disposition of the

7) The powers of action are oppressed by con-mind by the lineaments of the face.

5) Temptation.

jecture.

(12) Exuberant.

Our eldest, Malcolm; whom we name hereafter,
The prince of Cumberland: which honour must
Not, unaccompanied, invest him only,
But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
On all deservers.-From hence to Inverness,
And bind us further to you.

Macb. The rest is labour, which is not us'd for you:
I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful
The hearing of my wife with your approach;
So, humbly take my leave.
My worthy Cawdor!
Macb. The prince of Cumberiand!-That is a||
step,

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, 12 but this bird hath made
Thou'rt mad to say it: His pendent bed, and procreant cradle: Where they
Most breed and haunt, I have observ'd, the air
Is delicate.

Dun.

Lady M.

Enter Lady Macbeth.

He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought See, see! our honour'd hostess! Golden opinions from all sorts of people, The love that follows us, sometime is our trouble,Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you, Not cast aside so soon. How you shall bid God yield us for your pains, Lady M. Was the hope drunk, And thank us for your trouble. 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? 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.

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.2
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

Pr'ythee, peace:

I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more, is none.
Lady M.
What beast was it then,
That made you break this enterprise to me?

Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in When you durst do it, then you were a man ;

compt,3

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
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'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 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 cherubin, hors'd
Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,

And, to be more than what you were, you would
Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place,
Did then adhere,6 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 :
Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn, as you
Have done to this.

If we should fail,

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,8
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?10

Macb.

Bring forth men-children only!
For thy undaunted mettle should compose
Nothing but males. Will it not be received,11
When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
Of his own chamber, and us'd their very daggers,
That they have done't?
Lady M.
Who dares receive it other,
As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
Upon his death?

Macb.
I am settled, and bend up
Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.

That tears shall drown the wind.-I have no spur Away, and mock the time with fairest show

To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself,

And falls on the other.-How now, what news?

False face must hide what the false heart doth know. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE 1-The same. Court within the castle. Enter Banquo and Fleance, and a servant, with a torch before them.

Ban. How goes the night, boy?

(5) Winds; sightless is invisible.
(6) In the same sense as cohere.
(7) Intemperance.

(8) Overpower.
(9) Sentinel. (10) Murder. (11) Apprehended.

Fle. The moon is down; I have not heard the || Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear clock.

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 a-bed: It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,