SCENE I. A dark Cave. In the
middle, a Caldron Boiling.
[Thunder. Enter the three Witches.]
FIRST WITCH.
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
SECOND WITCH.
Thrice; and once the hedge-pig
whin'd.
THIRD WITCH.
Harpier cries:--"tis time,
'tis time.
FIRST WITCH.
Round about the caldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.--
Toad, that under cold stone,
Days and nights has thirty-one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed
pot!
ALL.
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.
SECOND WITCH.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron 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 howlet's wing,--
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
ALL.
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.
THIRD WITCH.
Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witch's 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
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse,
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips,
Finger of birth-strangl'd babe
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,--
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
For the ingredients of our caldron.
ALL.
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.
SECOND WITCH.
Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.
[Enter Hecate.]
HECATE.
O, well done! I commend your
pains;
And everyone shall share i' the
gains.
And now about the cauldron sing,
Like elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.
Song.
Black spirits and white, red
spirits and gray;
Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that
mingle may.
[Exit Hecate.]
SECOND WITCH.
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes:--
Open, locks, whoever knocks!
[Enter Macbeth.]
MACBETH.
How now, you secret, black, and
midnight hags!
What is't you do?
ALL.
A deed without a name.
MACBETH.
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 yesty waves
Confound and swallow navigation
up;
Though bladed corn be lodg'd,
and trees blown down;
Though castles topple on their
warders' heads;
Though palaces and pyramids do
slope
Their heads to their foundations;
though the treasure
Of nature's germins tumble all
together,
Even till destruction sicken,--answer
me
To what I ask you.
FIRST WITCH.
Speak.
SECOND WITCH.
Demand.
THIRD WITCH.
We'll answer.
FIRST WITCH.
Say, if thou'dst rather hear
it from our mouths,
Or from our masters?
MACBETH.
Call 'em, let me see 'em.
FIRST WITCH.
Pour in sow's blood, that hath
eaten
Her nine farrow; grease that's
sweaten
From the murderer's gibbet throw
Into the flame.
ALL.
Come, high or low;
Thyself and office deftly show!
[Thunder. An Apparition of an
armed Head rises.]
MACBETH.
Tell me, thou unknown power,--
FIRST WITCH.
He knows thy thought:
Hear his speech, but say thou
naught.
APPARITION.
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware
Macduff;
Beware the Thane of Fife.--Dismiss
me:--enough.
[Descends.]
MACBETH.
Whate'er thou art, for thy good
caution, thanks;
Thou hast harp'd my fear aright:--but
one word more,--
FIRST WITCH.
He will not be commanded: here's
another,
More potent than the first.
[Thunder. An Apparition of a
bloody Child rises.]
APPARITION.--
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!
MACBETH.
Had I three ears, I'd hear thee.
APPARITION.
Be bloody, bold, and resolute;
laugh to scorn
The power of man, for none of
woman born
Shall harm Macbeth.
[Descends.]
MACBETH.
Then live, Macduff: what need
I fear of thee?
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 to't.
APPARITION.
Be lion-mettled, proud; and take
no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where
conspirers are:
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd
be, until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane
hill
Shall come against him.
[Descends.]
MACBETH.
That will never be:
Who can impress the forest; bid
the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet
bodements, good!
Rebellion's head, rise never
till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd
Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature,
pay his breath
To time and mortal custom.--Yet
my heart
Throbs to know one thing: tell
me,--if your art
Can tell so much,--shall Banquo's
issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?
ALL.
Seek to know no more.
MACBETH.
I will be satisfied: deny me
this,
And an eternal curse fall on
you! Let me know:--
Why sinks that cauldron? and
what noise is this?
[Hautboys.]
FIRST WITCH.
Show!
SECOND WITCH.
Show!
THIRD WITCH.
Show!
ALL.
Show his eyes, and grieve his
heart;
Come like shadows, so depart!
[Eight kings appear, and pass
over in order, the last with
a
glass in his hand; Banquo following.]
MACBETH.
Thou are too like the spirit
of Banquo; down!
Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs:--and
thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is
like the first;--
A third is like the former.--Filthy
hags!
Why do you show me this?--A fourth!--Start,
eyes!
What, will the line stretch out
to the crack of doom?
Another yet!--A seventh!--I'll
see no more:--
And yet the eighth appears, who
bears a glass
Which shows me many more; and
some I see
That twofold balls and treble
sceptres carry:
Horrible sight!--Now I see 'tis
true;
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo
smiles upon me,
And points at them for his.--What!
is this so?
FIRST WITCH.
Ay, sir, all this is so:--but
why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?--
Come,sisters, cheer we up his
sprites,
And show the best of our delights;
I'll charm the air to give a
sound,
While you perform your antic
round;
That this great king may kindly
say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.
[Music. The Witches dance, and
then vanish.]
MACBETH.
Where are they? Gone?--Let this
pernicious hour
Stand aye accursed in the calendar!--
Come in, without there!
[Enter Lennox.]
LENNOX.
What's your grace's will?
MACBETH.
Saw you the weird sisters?
LENNOX.
No, my lord.
MACBETH.
Came they not by you?
LENNOX.
No indeed, my lord.
MACBETH.
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?
LENNOX.
'Tis two or three, my lord, that
bring you word
Macduff is fled to England.
MACBETH.
Fled to England!
LENNOX.
Ay, my good lord.
MACBETH.
Time, thou anticipat'st my dread
exploits:
The flighty purpose never is
o'ertook
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 trace him in his line. No
boasting like a fool;
This deed I'll do before this
purpose cool:
But no more sights!--Where are
these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. Fife. A Room in Macduff's
Castle.
[Enter Lady Macduff, her Son,
and Ross.]
LADY MACDUFF.
What had he done, to make him
fly the land?
ROSS.
You must have patience, madam.
LADY MACDUFF.
He had none:
His flight was madness: when
our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors.
ROSS.
You know not
Whether it was his wisdom or
his fear.
LADY MACDUFF.
Wisdom! to leave his wife, to
leave his babes,
His mansion, and his titles,
in a place
From whence himself does fly?
He loves us not:
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.
ROSS.
My dearest coz,
I pray you, school yourself:
but, for your husband,
He is noble, wise, Judicious,
and best knows
The fits o' the season. I dare
not speak much further:
But cruel are the times, when
we are traitors,
And do not know ourselves; when
we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not
what we fear,
But float upon a wild and violent
sea
Each way and move.--I take my
leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be
here again:
Things at the worst will cease,
or else climb upward
To what they were before.--My
pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!
LADY MACDUFF.
Father'd he is, and yet he's
fatherless.
ROSS.
I am so much a fool, should I
stay longer,
It would be my disgrace and your
discomfort:
I take my leave at once.
[Exit.]
LADY MACDUFF.
Sirrah, your father's dead;
And what will you do now? How
will you live?
SON.
As birds do, mother.
LADY MACDUFF.
What, with worms and flies?
SON.
With what I get, I mean; and
so do they.
LADY MACDUFF.
Poor bird! thou'dst 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.
LADY MACDUFF.
Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou
do for father?
SON.
Nay, how will you do for a husband?
LADY MACDUFF.
Why, I can buy me twenty at any
market.
SON.
Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.
LADY MACDUFF.
Thou speak'st with all thy wit;
and yet, i' faith,
With wit enough for thee.
SON.
Was my father a traitor, mother?
LADY MACDUFF.
Ay, that he was.
SON.
What is a traitor?
LADY MACDUFF.
Why, one that swears and lies.
SON.
And be all traitors that do so?
LADY MACDUFF.
Everyone that does so is a traitor,
and must be hanged.
SON.
And must they all be hanged that
swear and lie?
LADY MACDUFF.
Every one.
SON.
Who must hang them?
LADY MACDUFF.
Why, the honest men.
SON.
Then the liars and swearers are
fools: for there are liars
and swearers enow to beat the
honest men and hang up them.
LADY MACDUFF.
Now, God help thee, poor monkey!
But how wilt
thou do for a father?
SON.
If he were dead, you'ld weep
for him: if you would not,
it
were a good sign that I should
quickly have a new father.
LADY MACDUFF.
Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!
[Enter a Messenger.]
MESSENGER.
Bless you, fair dame! I am not
to you known,
Though in your state of honor
I am perfect.
I doubt some danger does approach
you nearly:
If you will take a homely man's
advice,
Be not found here; hence, with
your little ones.
To fright you thus, methinks,
I am too savage;
To do worse to you were fell
cruelty,
Which is too nigh your person.
Heaven preserve you!
I dare abide no longer.
[Exit.]
LADY MACDUFF.
Whither should I fly?
I have done no harm. But I remember
now
I am in this earthly world; where
to do harm
Is often laudable; to do good
sometime
Accounted dangerous folly: why
then, alas,
Do I put up that womanly defence,
To say I have done no harm?--What
are these faces?
[Enter Murderers.]
FIRST MURDERER.
Where is your husband?
LADY MACDUFF.
I hope, in no place so unsanctified
Where such as thou mayst find
him.
FIRST MURDERER.
He's a traitor.
SON.
Thou liest, thou shag-haar'd
villain!
FIRST MURDERER.
What, you egg!
[Stabbing him.]
Young fry of treachery!
SON.
He has kill'd me, mother:
Run away, I pray you!
[Dies. Exit Lady Macduff, crying
Murder, and pursued by the
Murderers.]
SCENE III. England. Before the
King's Palace.
[Enter Malcolm and Macduff.]
MALCOLM.
Let us seek out some desolate
shade and there
Weep our sad bosoms empty.
MACDUFF.
Let us rather
Hold fast the mortal sword, and,
like good men,
Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom:
each new morn
New widows howl; new orphans
cry; new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that
it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland,
and yell'd out
Like syllable of dolour.
MALCOLM.
What I believe, I'll wail;
What know, believe; and what
I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend,
I will.
What you have spoke, it may be
so perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name
blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you
have loved him well;
He hath not touch'd you yet.
I am young; but something
You may deserve of him through
me; and wisdom
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent
lamb
To appease an angry god.
MACDUFF.
I am not treacherous.
MALCOLM.
But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may
recoil
In an imperial charge. But I
shall crave your pardon;
That which you are, my thoughts
cannot transpose;
Angels are bright still, though
the brightest fell:
Though all things foul would
wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.
MACDUFF.
I have lost my hopes.
MALCOLM.
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 love,--
Without leave-taking?--I pray
you,
Let not my jealousies be your
dishonors,
But mine own safeties:--you may
be rightly just,
Whatever I shall think.
MACDUFF.
Bleed, bleed, poor country!
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis
sure,
For goodness dare not check thee!
wear thou thy wrongs,
The 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 grasp
And the rich East to boot.
MALCOLM.
Be not offended:
I speak not as in 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.
MACDUFF.
What should he be?
MALCOLM.
It is myself I mean: in whom
I know
All the particulars of vice so
grafted
That, when they shall be open'd,
black Macbeth
Will seem as pure as snow; and
the poor state
Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd
With my confineless harms.
MACDUFF.
Not in the legions
Of horrid hell can come a devil
more damn'd
In evils to top Macbeth.
MALCOLM.
I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, 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 daughters,
Your matrons, and your maids,
could not fill up
The cistern of my lust; and my
desire
All continent impediments would
o'erbear,
That did oppose my will: better
Macbeth
Than such an one to reign.
MACDUFF.
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 hoodwink.
We have willing dames enough;
there cannot be
That vulture in you, to devour
so many
As will to greatness dedicate
themselves,
Finding it so inclin'd.
MALCOLM.
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 forge
Quarrels unjust against the good
and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.
MACDUFF.
This avarice
Sticks deeper; grows with more
pernicious root
Than summer-seeming 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.
MALCOLM.
But I have none: the king-becoming
graces,
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,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had
I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord
into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.
MACDUFF.
O Scotland, Scotland!
MALCOLM.
If such a one be fit to govern,
speak:
I am as I have spoken.
MACDUFF.
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 father
Was a most sainted king; the
queen that bore thee,
Oftener 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 breast,
Thy hope ends here!
MALCOLM.
Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from
my soul
Wiped the black scruples, reconcil'd
my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour.
Devilish Macbeth
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 speaking
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
Already at a point, was setting
forth:
Now we'll together; and the chance
of goodness
Be like our warranted quarrel!
Why are you silent?
MACDUFF.
Such welcome and unwelcome things
at once
'Tis hard to reconcile.
[Enter a Doctor.]
MALCOLM.
Well; more anon.--Comes the king
forth, I pray you?
DOCTOR.
Ay, sir: there are a crew of
wretched souls
That stay his cure: their malady
convinces
The great assay of art; but,
at his touch,
Such sanctity hath heaven given
his hand,
They presently amend.
MALCOLM.
I thank you, doctor.
[Exit Doctor.]
MACDUFF.
What's the disease he means?
MALCOLM.
'Tis call'd the evil:
A most miraculous work in this
good king;
Which often, since my here-remain
in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits
heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited
people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful
to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery,
he cures;
Hanging a golden stamp about
their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and
'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he
leaves
The healing benediction. With
this strange virtue,
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy;
And sundry blessings hang about
his throne,
That speak him full of grace.
MACDUFF.
See, who comes here?
MALCOLM.
My countryman; but yet I know
him not.
[Enter Ross.]
MACDUFF.
My ever-gentle cousin, welcome
hither.
MALCOLM.
I know him now. Good God, betimes
remove
The means that makes us strangers!
ROSS.
Sir, amen.
MACDUFF.
Stands Scotland where it did?
ROSS.
Alas, poor country,--
Almost afraid to know itself!
It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our
grave: where nothing,
But who knows nothing, is once
seen to smile;
Where sighs, and groans, and
shrieks, that rent the air,
Are made, not mark'd; where violent
sorrow seems
A modern ecstasy; the dead man's
knell
Is there scarce ask'd for who;
and good men's lives
Expire before the flowers in
their caps,
Dying or ere they sicken.
MACDUFF.
O, relation
Too nice, and yet too true!
MALCOLM.
What's the newest grief?
ROSS.
That of an hour's age doth hiss
the speaker;
Each minute teems a new one.
MACDUFF.
How does my wife?
ROSS.
Why, well.
MACDUFF.
And all my children?
ROSS.
Well too.
MACDUFF.
The tyrant has not batter'd at
their peace?
ROSS.
No; they were well at peace when
I did leave 'em.
MACDUFF.
Be not a niggard of your speech:
how goes't?
ROSS.
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,
For that I saw the tyrant's power
a-foot:
Now is the time of help; your
eye in Scotland
Would create soldiers, make our
women fight,
To doff their dire distresses.
MALCOLM.
Be't 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.
ROSS.
Would I could answer
This comfort with the like! But
I have words
That would be howl'd out in the
desert air,
Where hearing should not latch
them.
MACDUFF.
What concern they?
The general cause? or is it a
fee-grief
Due to some single breast?
ROSS.
No mind that's honest
But in it shares some woe; though
the main part
Pertains to you alone.
MACDUFF.
If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly
let me have it.
ROSS.
Let not your ears despise my
tongue for ever,
Which shall possess them with
the heaviest sound
That ever yet they heard.
MACDUFF.
Humh! I guess at it.
ROSS.
Your castle is surpris'd; your
wife and babes
Savagely slaughter'd: to relate
the manner
Were, on the quarry of these
murder'd deer,
To add the death of you.
MALCOLM.
Merciful heaven!--
What, man! ne'er pull your hat
upon your brows;
Give sorrow words: the grief
that does not speak
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart,
and bids it break.
MACDUFF.
My children too?
ROSS.
Wife, children, servants, all
That could be found.
MACDUFF.
And I must be from thence!
My wife kill'd too?
ROSS.
I have said.
MALCOLM.
Be comforted:
Let's make us medicines of our
great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.
MACDUFF.
He has no children.--All my pretty
ones?
Did you say all?--O hell-kite!--All?
What, all my pretty chickens
and their dam
At one fell swoop?
MALCOLM.
Dispute it like a man.
MACDUFF.
I shall do so;
But I must also feel it as a
man:
I cannot but remember such things
were,
That were most precious to me.--Did
heaven look on,
And would not take their part?
Sinful Macduff,
They were all struck for thee!
naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but
for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls:
heaven rest them now!
MALCOLM.
Be this the whetstone of your
sword. Let grief
Convert to anger; blunt not the
heart, enrage it.
MACDUFF.
O, I could play the woman with
mine eye,
And braggart with my tongue!--But,
gentle heavens,
Cut short all intermission; front
to front
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland
and myself;
Within my sword's length set
him; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too!
MALCOLM.
This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our
power is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave:
Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the
powers above
Put on their instruments. Receive
what cheer you may;
The night is long that never
finds the day.
[Exeunt.]
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