The Tragedy of Macbeth from Mr. William Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies. Published according to the true originall copies.
Mr. VVilliam Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies
Bodleian First Folio, Arch. G c.7
Heminge, John, approximately 1556-1630 Condell, Henry, -1627Autres contributions
Droeshout, Martin, 1601- : engraver.
Jaggard, Isaac, -1627 : printer.
Blount, Edward, fl. 1594-1632 : printer.
Jaggard, William, 1569-1623 : publisher.
Smethwicke, John, -1641 : publisher.
Aspley, William, -1640 : publisher.
Bodleian Digital Library Systems and Services : creation of electronic edition.
Invida Trans It Solutions PVT. LTD. : preliminary keying and encoding by.
Pip Willcox : project management ; proofing ; encoding.
Lucienne Cummings : proofing ; encoding.
Judith Siefring : proofing ; encoding.
Emma Stanford : proofing ; encoding.
James Cummings : encoding consultation.
Sprint for Shakespeare
Crowdfunding
The second phase of the Bodleian First Folio project was made possible by a lead gift from Dr Geoffrey Eibl-Kaye and generous support from the Sallie Dickson Memorial Fund/Dallas Shakespeare Club Fund, Mr James Barber, and a private individual. The Bodleian Libraries are very grateful for this additional support, which brings new features to the digitized First Folio, enabling more efficient and intuitive use for all with an interest in Shakespeare, early modern drama, theatre and book history.
First publication edition.
Bodleian Libraries,
University of Oxford
Osney One Building
Osney Mead
Oxford
OX2 0EW
Available for reuse, according to the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported.
url url Mr. William Shakespeares comedies, histories, &
tragedies.: Published according to the true originall copies.Mr. VVilliam Shakespeares comedies, histories, &
tragediesFirst FolioLondon, England:
William Jaggard, Edward
Blount, John SmethwickeBodleian Library, Arch. G c.7S111228015592789
United Kingdom, Oxford, University of Oxford, Bodleian Library, Bodleian Library, Arch. G c.7, S 2.17 Art. [first Bodleian shelfmark,
1624-1664?], Arch. F c.13 [superscript z?] [second Bodleian
shelfmark, 1906-?].
Mr VVILLIAM
SHAKESPEARES
COMEDIES,
HISTORIES, &
TRAGEDIES.
SHAKESPEARES
COMEDIES,
HISTORIES, &
TRAGEDIES.
Publiſhed according to the True Originall Copies.
London : Printed by Isaac Iaggard, and Ed. Blount [at the charges
of W. Iaggard, Ed. Blount, I. Smithweeke, and W. Aspley].,
.
349 x 323.
[18], 303, [1], 46, 49-100, [2], 69-232, [2], 79-80, [26], 76, 79-82, 80-98, [2], 109-156, 257-993 [i.e. 399], [1] p.; fol.
Numbering peculiarities: 1st count: p.50 misnumbered 58; p.59 misnumbered 51; p.86 misnumbered 88; p.153 misnumbered 151; p.161 misnumbered] 163; p.164 misnumbered 162; p. 165 misnumbered 163; p. 189 misnumbered 187; p. 249 misnumbered 251; p.250 misnumbered 252; p. 265 misnumbered 273 -- 2nd count: p.37 misnumbered 39 in some copies; p.89 misnumbered 91; p. 90 misnumbered 92 -- 3rd count: p.165-166 numbered 167 and 168 respectively; p. 216 numbered 218 -- 5th count: p. 279 misnumbered 259; p. 282 misnumbered 280; p.308 misnumbered 38; p. 379 misnumbered 389; p. 399 misnumbered 993.
The signatures varies between sources, with the most commonly cited being Hinman's and West's: 1. Hinman: πA⁶ (πA1+1) [πB²], ²A-2B⁶ 2C² a-g⁶ χgg⁸ h-v⁶ x⁴ χ1.2 [para.]-2[para.]⁶ 3[para]¹ aa-ff⁶ gg² Gg⁶ hh⁶ kk-bbb⁶; 2. West: πA⁶ (πA1+1, πA5+1.2)²A-2B⁶ 2C² a-g⁶ ²g⁸ h-v⁶ x⁴ 'gg3.4' (±'gg3') [para.]-2[para.]⁶ 3[para]¹ 2a-2f⁶ 2g² 2G⁶ 2h⁶ 2k-2v⁶ x⁶ 2y-3b⁶.
Mis-signed leaves: a3 mis-signed Aa3; ³gg1 mis-signed Gg; nn1-nn2 mis-signed Nn and Nn2 and oo1 mis-signed Oo.
"The life and death of King Iohn" begins new pagination on leaf a1 recto; "The tragedy of Coriolanus" begins new pagination on leaf aa1 recto.
Lacks A1, the letterpress frontispiece entitled "To the reader".
The title page is trimmed and mounted, with a section of the mount
towards the foot of the leaf mutilated resulting in the loss of some the
Droechout imprint at the bottom left hand corner of the portrait and the
central section of an early MS note. For a full condition report,
including a full survey of damage and repairs, please contact Rare
Books.
Predominantly printed in double columns.
Text within simple lined frame.
Colophon reads: "Printed at the charges of W. Iaggard, Ed. Blount, I. Smithweeke, and W. Aspley. 1623.".
Editors’ dedication signed: Iohn Heminge. Henry Condell.
Two MS verses on first endpaper verso: 1. 9 lines of verse by an unknown author, first line reads "An active swain to make a leap was seen". 2. A copy of Ben Jonson’s printed "To the Reader"; MS note on t.p. (mutilated) appears to read "Honest [Shakes]peare". Minor annotations on leaf 2n4 (Macbeth). All in an early English hand, presumably added after leaving the Library.
Seventeenth-century (1624) English (Oxford) smooth calf. Bound for the Bodleian Library by William Wildgoose, with evidence of two cloth ties, red sprinkled edge. Formerly chained, with evidence of chain staple at the head of the upper cover. Remains of paper label at the head of the spine. Enclosed in 20th century book box by Maltby of Oxford. See S. Gibson in Original Bodleian Copy of First Folio, p. 12-13. One of four items sent out on 17th February 1624 for binding by Wildgoose containing printed waste from a copy of Cicero’s "De Officiis, et al." [Deventer: Richard Pafraet, between 1480 and 1485] as paste-downs. For more information on this work see: Bod. Inc. Cat., C-322.
For further details on the printing of this item see Hinman, Charleton. The printing and proof-reading of the First Folio of Shakespeare: Oxford, 1963.
Acquired by the Bodleian in 1623, presumably in sheets. It was sent out to William Wildgoose on for binding (see: Library Records e.258, fol. 48r) and upon its return chained in Duke Humfrey at shelfmark S 2.17 Art. It is listed in the Bodleian’s catalogue of printed books but was gone by the publication of the next catalogue in , replaced by the newer Third Folio (). There is no explicit reference in Library Records to the disposal of this copy, but there is a record of a sale of "superfluous library books" to Richard Davis, a bookseller in Oxford, in for the sum of £24.
After leaving the Bodleian this copy entered the collection of Richard Turbutt of Ogston Hall, Derbyshire at some point in the early 18th century. It stayed in the family’s possession until , when it was reacquired by the Bodleian for the sum of £3000, raised by public subscription. For a full discussion of the rediscovery and purchase of this copy see: F. Madan, G. M. R. Turbutt and S. Gibson, The Original Bodleian Copy of the First Folio of Shakespeare (theTurbutt Shakespeare) (Oxford, 1905)
For a full discussion of this copy and the digital version see http://shakespeare.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/ and West and Rasmussen (2011), 31.
Digital facsimile images available at: http://firstfolio.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/.
First Witch
1
1.
First Apparition
1 Appar.
First Murderer
1. Murth.
1
1.
Second Witch
2
2.
Second Apparition
2 Appar.
Second Murderer
2. Murth
2. Murth.
2
2.
Third Witch
3
Third Apparition
3 Appar.
Third Murderer
3.
3
All
All.
Angus, Nobleman of Scotland
Ang.
Banquo, General of the King's army
Ban.
Banq.
Banquo
Banquo.
Captain (Sergeant)
Cap.
Caithness, Nobleman of Scotland
Cath.
Doctor
Doct.
Donalbain, Son of Duncan
Don.
Donal.
Fleance, Son to Banquo
Fleance.
Gentlewoman
Gent.
Hecate
Hec.
Duncan, King of Scotland
King.
Lady Macbeth
La.
Lad.
Lady.
Lennox, Nobleman of Scotland
Len.
Lenox.
Macb. and Lenox.
Lord
Lord.
Lords
Lords.
Macbeth, General of the King's army
Mab.
Mac.
Macb.
Macb. and Lenox.
Macduff, Nobleman of Scotland
Macd.
Malcolm, Son of Duncan
Mal.
Malc.
Menteith, Nobleman of Scotland
Ment.
Messenger
Mes.
Mess.
Murderer
Mur.
Murth.
Old Man
Old M.
Old man.
Porter
Port.
Porter.
Ross, Nobleman of Scotland
Ro.
Ross.
Rosse.
Servant
Ser.
Seruant.
Siward, Earl of Northumberland, general of English forces
Sey.
Syew.Seyw.
Syw.
Seyton, An officer attending on Macduff
Seyt.
Sey.
Soldiers
Sold.
Son, Macduff's son
Son.
Lady Macduff
Wife.
Young Siward, Siward's son
Y. Sey.
![[p. 131]](FFimg:axc0741-0.jpg){kind=link}
THE TRAGEDIE OF
MACBETH.
Actus Primus. Scœna Prima.
[Act 1, Scene 1]
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.
5 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.
10 Padock calls anon: faire is foule, and foule is faire,
Houer through the fogge and filthie ayre.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
[Act 1, Scene 2]
Alarum within. Enter King Malcome, Donal
baine, Lenox, with attendants, meeting
a bleeding Captaine.
baine, Lenox, with attendants, meeting
a bleeding Captaine.
King.
What bloody man is that? he can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the Reuolt
The newest state
Mal.
15 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.
20 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 that
The multiplying Villanies of Nature
25 Doe swarme vpon him) from the Westerne Isles
Of 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)
30 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,
35 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:
40 So from that Spring, whence comfort seem'd to come,
[....]mfort swells: Marke King of Scotland, marke,
[.]sooner Iustice had, with Valour arm'd,
Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heeles,
But the Norweyan Lord, surueying vantage,
45 With furbusht Armes, and new supplyes of men,
Began a fresh assault.
King.
Dismay'd not this our Captaines, Macbeth and
Banquoh?
Banquoh?
Cap.
Yes, as Sparrowes, Eagles;
Or the Hare, the Lyon:
50 If I say sooth, I must report they were
As 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,
55 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.
60 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.
65 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,
70 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,
75 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,
80 Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes ynch,
Ten thousand Dollars, to our generall vse.
![[p. 132]](FFimg:axc0742-0.jpg){kind=link}
King.
No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceiue
Our Bosome interest: Goe pronounce his present death,
And with his former Title greet Macbeth.
Rosse.
85 Ile see it done.
King.
What he hath lost, Noble Macbeth hath wonne.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
[Act 1, Scene 3]
Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
1.
Where hast thou beene, Sister?
2.
Killing Swine.
3.
Sister, where thou?
1.
90 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:
95 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.
100 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.
105 Ile dreyne him drie as Hay:
Sleepe shall neyther Night nor Day
Hang vpon his Pent‑house Lid:
He shall liue a man forbid:
Wearie Seu'nights, nine times nine,
110 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.
115 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,
120 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.
125 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 aught
130 [.]hat man may question? you seeme to vnderstand me,
[.] each at once her choppie finger laying
[..]on her skinnie Lips: you should be Women,
[..]d yet your Beards forbid me to interprete
[.]you are so.
Mac.
135 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 feare
140 Things that doe sound so faire? i'th'name of truth
Are ye fantasticall, or that indeed
Which outwardly ye shew? My Noble Partner
You greet with present Grace, and great prediction
Of Noble hauing, and of Royall hope,
145 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 feare
Your fauors, nor your hate.
1.
150 Hayle.
2.
Hayle.
3.
Hayle.
1.
Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
2.
Not so happy, yet much happyer.
3.
155 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,
160 But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor liues
A prosperous Gentleman: And to be King,
Stands not within the prospect of beleefe,
No more then to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this strange Intelligence, or why
165 Vpon this blasted Heath you stop our way
With 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.
170 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,
175 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 [.]ngus.
Rosse.
180 The King hath happily receiu'd, Macbeth,
The newes of thy successe: and when he reades
Thy personall Venture in the Rebels sight,
His Wonders and his Prayses doe contend,
Which should be thine, or his: silenc'd with that,
185 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 make
Strange Images of death, as thick as Tale
Can post with post, and euery one did beare
190 Thy 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,
195 Not pay thee.
Rosse.
And for an earnest of a greater Honor,
He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:
In
[p. 133]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 133]](FFimg:axc0743-0.jpg){kind=link}
In which addition, haile most worthy Thane,
For it is thine.
Banq.
200 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,
205 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'd
In his Countreyes wracke, I know not:
210 But Treasons Capitall, confess'd, and prou'd,
Haue ouerthrowne h[.]m.
Macb.
Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behinde. Thankes for your paines.
Doe you not hope your Children shall be Kings,
215 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:
220 And oftentimes, to winne vs to our harme,
The Instruments of Darknesse tell vs Truths,
Winne vs with honest Trifles, to betray's
In deepest consequence.
Cousins, a word, I pray you.
Macb.
225 Two Truths are told,
As happy Prologues to the swelling Act
Of the Imperiall Theame. I thanke you Gentlemen:
This supernaturall solliciting
Cannot be ill; cannot be good.
230 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,
235 Against the vse of Nature? Present Feares
Are 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,
240 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.
245 New Honors come vpon him
Like 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.
250Worthy Macbeth, wee stay vpon your ley [l. 251] sure.
Macb.
Giue me your fauour:
My dull Braine was wrought with things forgotten.
Kinde Gentlemen, your paines are registred,
255 Where euery day I turne the Leafe,
To reade them.
Let vs toward the King: thinke vpon
What hath chanc'd: and at more time,
The Interim hauing weigh'd it, let vs speake
260 Our free Hearts each to other.
Banq.
Very gladly.
Macb.
Till then enough:
Come friends.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
[Act 1, Scene 4]
Flourish. Enter King, Lenox, Malcolme,
Donalbaine, and Attendants.
Donalbaine, and Attendants.
King.
Is execution done on Cawdor?
265 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 hee
Confess'd his Treasons, implor'd your Highnesse Pardon,
270 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,
275 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 built
An absolute Trust.
Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.
280 O worthyest Cousin,
The sinne of my Ingratitude euen now
Was heauie on me. Thou art so farre before,
That swiftest Wing of Recompence is slow,
To ouertake thee. Would thou hadst lesse deseru'd,
285 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.
290 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 Loue
And Honor.
King.
295 Welcome hither:
I haue begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
That hast no lesse deseru'd, nor must be knowne
No lesse to haue done so: Let me enfold thee,
300 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 themselues
305 In drops of sorrow. Sonnes, Kinsmen, Thanes,
And you whose places are the nearest, know,
We will establish our Estate vpon
Our eldest, Malcolme, whom we name hereafter,
The Prince of Cumberland: which Honor must
310 Not vnaccompanied, inuest him onely,
But signes of Noblenesse, like Starres, shall shine
On all deseruers. From hence to Envernes,
And binde vs further to you.
Macb.
The Rest is Labor, which is not vs'd for you:
315 Ile be my selfe the Herbenger, and make ioyfull
The 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,
320 On which I must fall downe, or else o're‑leape,
mm
For
[p. 134]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 134]](FFimg:axc0744-0.jpg){kind=link}
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.
Exit.
King.
325 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.
[Act 1, Scene 5]
Enter Macbeths Wife alone with a Letter.
Lady.
330 They met me in the day of successe: and I haue [l. 331] learn'd by the perfect'st report, they haue more in them, then [l. 332] mortall knowledge. When I burnt in desire to question them [l. 333] further, they made themselues Ayre, into which they vanish'd. [l. 334] Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came Missiues from [l. 335] the King, who all‑hail'd me Thane of Cawdor, by which Title [l. 336] before, these weyward Sisters saluted me, and referr'd me to [l. 337] the comming on of time, with haile King that shalt be. This [l. 338] haue I thought good to deliuer thee (my dearest Partner of [l. 339] Greatnesse) that thou might'st not loose the dues of reioycing [l. 340] by being ignorant of what Greatnesse is promis'd thee. Lay [l. 341] 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,
345 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.
350 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,
355 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.
360 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:
365 One of my fellowes had the speed of him;
Who almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
Then would make vp his Message.
Lady.
Giue him tending,
He brings great newes.
Exit Messenger.
370 The Rauen himselfe is hoarse,
That croakes the fatall entrance of Duncan
Vnder my Battlements. Come you Spirits,
That tend on mortall thoughts, vnsex me here,
And fill me from the Crowne to the Toe, top‑full
375 Of direst Crueltie: make thick my blood,
Stop vp th'accesse, and passage to Remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of Nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keepe peace betweene
Th'effect, and hit. Come to my Womans Brests,
380 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,
385 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 beyond
390 This ignorant present, and I feele now
The future in the instant.
Macb.
My dearest Loue,
Duncan comes here to Night.
Lady.
And when goes hence?
Macb.
395 To morrow, as he purposes.
Lady.
O neuer,
Shall Sunne that Morrow see.
Your Face, my Thane, is as a Booke, where men
May reade strange matters, to beguile the time.
400 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 put
This Nights great Businesse into my dispatch,
405 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:
410 Leaue all the rest to me.
Exeunt.
Scena Sexta.
[Act 1, Scene 6]
Hoboyes, and Torches. Enter King, Malcolme,
Donalbaine, Banquo, Lenox, Macduff,
Rosse, Angus, and Attendants.
Donalbaine, Banquo, Lenox, Macduff,
Rosse, Angus, and Attendants.
King.
This Castle hath a pleasant seat,
The ayre nimbly and sweetly recommends it selfe
Vnto our gentle sences.
Banq.
This Guest of Summer,
415 The Temple‑haunting Barlet does approue,
By his loued Mansonry, that the Heauens breath
Smells wooingly here: no Iutty frieze,
Buttrice, nor Coigne of Vantage, but this Bird
Hath made his pendant Bed, and procreant Cradle,
420 Where they must breed, and haunt: I haue obseru'd
The 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,
425 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 contend
430 Against 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.
![[p. 135]](FFimg:axc0745-0.jpg){kind=link}
King.
Where's the Thane of Cawdor?
435 We courst him at the heeles, and had a purpose
To be his Purueyor: But he rides well,
And his great Loue (sharpe as his Spurre) hath holp him
To his home before vs: Faire and Noble Hostesse
We are your guest to night.
La.
440 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:
445 Conduct me to mine Host we loue him highly,
And shall continue, our Graces towards him.
By your leaue Hostesse.
Exeunt
Scena Septima.
[Act 1, Scene 7]
Ho‑boyes. Torches.
Enter a Sewer, and diuers Seruants with Dishes and Seruice
ouer the Stage. Then enter Macbeth.
ouer the Stage. Then enter Macbeth.
Macb.
If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twer well,
It were done quickly: If th'Assassination
450 Could trammell vp the Consequence, and catch
With his surcease, Successe: that but this blow
Might 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,
455 We still haue iudgement heere, that we but teach
Bloody Instructions, which being taught, returne
To plague th'Inuenter, This euen‑handed Iustice
Commends th'Ingredience of our poyson'd Challice
To our owne lips. Hee's heere in double trust;
460 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 Duncane
Hath borne his Faculties so meeke; hath bin
465 So cleere in his great Office, that his Vertues
Will pleade like Angels, Trumpet‑tongu'd against
The deepe damnation of his taking off:
And Pitty, like a naked New‑borne‑Babe,
Striding the blast, or Heauens Cherubin, hors'd
470 Vpon the sightlesse Curriors of the Ayre,
Shall blow the horrid deed in euery eye,
That teares shall drowne the winde. I haue no Spurre
To pricke the sides of my intent, but onely
Vaulting Ambition, which ore‑leapes it selfe,
475 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.
480 We will proceed no further in this Businesse:
He hath Honour'd me of late, and I haue bought
Golden Opinions from all sorts of people,
Which would be worne now in their newest glosse,
Not cast aside so soone.
La.
485 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'd
490 To be the same in thine owne Act, and Valour,
As thou art in desire? Would'st thou haue that
Which thou esteem'st the Ornament of Life,
And liue a Coward in thine owne Esteeme?
Letting I dare not, wait vpon I would,
495 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 then
500 That 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 would
Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place
Did then adhere, and yet you would make both:
505 They haue made themselues, and that their fitnesse now
Do's vnmake you. I haue giuen Sucke, and know
How 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,
510 And dasht the Braines out, had I so sworne
As you have done to this.
Macb.
If we should faile?
Lady.
We faile?
But screw your courage to the sticking place,
515 And wee'le not fayle: when Duncan is asleepe,
(Whereto the rather shall his dayes hard Iourney
Soundly inuite him) his two Chamberlaines
Will I with Wine, and Wassell, so conuince,
That Memorie, the Warder of the Braine,
520 Shall be a Fume, and the Receit of Reason
A Lymbeck onely: when in Swinish sleepe,
Their drenched Natures lyes as in a Death,
What cannot you and I performe vpon
Th'vnguarded Duncan? What not put vpon
525 His spungie Officers? who shall beare the guilt
Of our great quell.
Macb.
Bring forth Men‑Children onely:
For thy vndaunted Mettle should compose
Nothing but Males. Will it not be receiu'd,
530 When we haue mark'd with blood those sleepie two
Of 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,
535 Vpon his Death?
Macb.
I am settled, and bend vp
Each 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.
[Act 2, Scene 1]
Enter Banquo, and Fleance, with a Torch
before him.
before him.
Banq.
540 How goes the Night, Boy?
Fleance.
The Moone is downe: I haue not heard the
Clock
Clock
Banq.
And she goes downe at Twelue.
Fleance.
I take't, 'tis later, Sir.
Banq.
Hold, take my Sword:
545 There's Husbandry in Heauen,
Their Candles are all out: take thee that too.
mm2
A
[p. 136]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 136]](FFimg:axc0746-0.jpg){kind=link}
A heauie Summons lyes like Lead vpon me,
And yet I would not sleepe:
Mercifull Powers, restraine in me the cursed thoughts
550 That 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,
555 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,
560 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.
565 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.
570 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 keepe
My Bosome franchis'd, and Allegeance cleare,
575 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.
Exit.
580 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, sensible
To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but
585 A 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,
590 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:
595 It is the bloody Businesse, which informes
Thus to mine Eyes. Now o're the one halfe World
Nature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuse
The Curtain'd sleepe: Witchcraft celebrates
Pale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd Murther,
600 Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe,
Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquins rauishing sides, towards his designe
Moues like a Ghost. Thou sowre and firme‑set Earth
Heare not my steps, which they may walke, for feare
605 Thy 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.
610 Heare it not, Duncan, for it is a Knell,
That summons thee to Heauen, or to Hell.
Exit.
Scena Secunda.
[Act 2, Scene 2]
Enter Lady.
La.
That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold:
What hath quench'd them, hath giuen me fire.
Hearke, peace: it was the Owle that shriek'd,
615 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 charge
With Snores. I haue drugg'd their Possets,
That Death and Nature doe contend about them,
620 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,
625 He could not misse 'em. Had he not resembled
My Father as he slept, I had don't.
My Husband?
Macb.
I haue done the deed:
Didst thou not heare a noyse?
Lady.
630 I heard the Owle schreame, and the Crickets cry.
Did not you speake?
Macb.
When?
Lady.
Now.
Macb.
As I descended?
Lady.
635 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.
640 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.
645 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.
650 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 thought
After these wayes: so, it will make vs mad.
Macb.
Me thought I heard a voyce cry, Sleep no more:
655 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.
660 What doe you meane?
Macb.
Still it cry'd, Sleepe no more to all the House:
Glamis hath murther'd Sleepe, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleepe no more: Macbeth shall sleepe no more.
Lady.
Who was it, that thus cry'd? why worthy Thane,
665 You doe vnbend your Noble strength, to thinke
So braine‑sickly of things: Goe get some Water,
And
[p. 137]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 137]](FFimg:axc0747-0.jpg){kind=link}
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 smeare
670 The 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:
675 Giue me the Daggers: the sleeping, and the dead,
Are but as Pictures: 'tis the Eye of Child‑hood,
That feares a painted Deuill. If he doe bleed,
Ile guild the Faces of the Groomes withall,
For it must seeme their Guilt.
Exit.
Knocke within.
Macb.
680 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 blood
Cleane from my Hand? no: this my Hand will rather
685 The multitudinous Seas incarnardine,
Making the Greene one, Red.
Enter Lady.
Lady.
My Hands are of your colour: but I shame
To weare a Heart so white.
Knocke.
I heare a knocking at the South entry:
690 Retyre we to our Chamber:
A little Water cleares vs of this deed.
How easie is it then? your Constancie
Hath left you vnattended.
Knocke.
Hearke, more knocking.
695 Get on your Night‑Gowne, least occasion call vs,
And shew vs to be Watchers: be not lost
So poorely in your thoughts.
Macb.
To know my deed,
Knocke.
'Twere best not know my selfe.
700 Wake Duncan with thy knocking:
I would thou could'st.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
[Act 2, Scene 3]
Enter a Porter.
Knocking within.
Porter.
702Here's a knocking indeede: if a man were [l. 703] Porter of Hell Gate, hee should haue old turning the [l. 704] Key.Knock. Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there [l. 705] i'th'name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd [l. 706] himselfe on th'expectation of Plentie: Come in time, haue [l. 707] Napkins enow about you, here you'le sweat for't.Knock. [l. 708] Knock, knock. Who's there in th'other Deuils Name? [l. 709] Faith here's an Equiuocator, that could sweare in both [l. 710] the Scales against eyther Scale, who committed Treason [l. 711] enough for Gods sake, yet could not equiuocate to Hea [l. 712] uen: oh come in, Equiuocator. Knock. Knock, [l. 713] Knock, Knock. Who's there? 'Faith here's an English [l. 714] Taylor come hither, for stealing out of a French Hose: [l. 715] Come in Taylor, here you may rost your Goose. Knock. [l. 716] Knock, Knock. Neuer at quiet: What are you? but this [l. 717] place is too cold for Hell. Ile Deuill‑Porter it no further: [l. 718] I had thought to haue let in some of all Professions, that [l. 719] goe the Primrose way to th'euerlasting Bonfire. Knock. [l. 720] 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.
725What three things does Drinke especially [l. 726] prouoke?
Port.
727Marry, Sir, Nose‑painting, Sleepe, and Vrine. [l. 728] Lecherie, Sir, it prouokes, and vnprouokes: it prouokes [l. 729] the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore [l. 730] much Drinke may be said to be an Equiuocator with Le [l. 731] cherie: it makes him, and it marres him; it sets him on, [l. 732] and it takes him off; it perswades him, and dis‑heartens [l. 733] him; makes him stand too, and not stand too: in conclu [l. 734] sion, equiuocates him in a sleepe, and giuing him the Lye, [l. 735] leaues him.
Macd.
736I beleeue, Drinke gaue thee the Lye last Night.
Port.
737That it did, Sir, i'the very Throat on me: but I [l. 738] requited him for his Lye, and (I thinke) being too strong [l. 739] for him, though he tooke vp my Legges sometime, yet I [l. 740] 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.
745 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.
Ma[.]b.
Ile bring you to him.
Macd.
750 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.
754Ile make so bold to call, for 'tis my limitted [l. 755] seruice.
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,
760 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.
765 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 paralell
770 A 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:
775 Most sacrilegious Murther hath broke ope
The Lords anoynted Temple, and stole thence
The Life o'th'Building.
Macb.
What is't you say, the Life?
Lenox.
Meane you his Maiestie?
Macd.
780 Approch the Chamber, and destroy your sight
With a new Gorgon. Doe not bid me speake:
mm3
See,
[p. 138]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 138]](FFimg:axc0748-0.jpg){kind=link}
See, and then speake your selues: awake, awake,
Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox.
Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason,
Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolme awake,
785 Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit,
And looke on Death it selfe: vp, vp, and see
The 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.
790 What's the Businesse?
That such a hideous Trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the House? speake, speake.
Macd.
O gentle Lady,
'Tis not for you to heare what I can speake:
795 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.
800 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,
805 There's nothing serious in Mortalitie:
All is but Toyes: Renowne and Grace is dead,
The Wine of Life is drawne, and the meere Lees
Is left this Vault, to brag of.
Enter Malcolme and Donalbaine.
Donal.
What is amisse?
Macb.
810 You are, and doe not know't:
The Spring, the Head, the Fountaine of your Blood
Is stopt, the very Source of it is stopt.
Macd.
Your Royall Father's murther'd.
Mal.
Oh, by whom?
Lenox.
815 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 found
Vpon their Pillowes: they star'd, and were distracted,
No mans Life was to be trusted with them.
Macb.
820 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:
825 Th'expedition of my violent Loue
Out‑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,
830 Steep'd in the Colours of their Trade; their Daggers
Vnmannerly 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.
835 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,
840 May rush, and seize vs? Let's away,
Our Teares are not yet brew'd.
Mal.
Nor our strong Sorrow
Vpon the foot of Motion.
Banq.
Looke to the Lady:
845 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,
850 Against the vndivulg'd pretence, I fight
Of Treasonous Mallice.
Macd.
And so doe I.
All.
So all.
Macb.
Let's briefely put on manly readinesse,
855 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 Office
860 Which 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;
865 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,
870 But shift away: there's warrant in that Theft,
Which steales it selfe, when there's no mercie left.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
[Act 2, Scene 4]
Enter Rosse, with an Old man.
Old man.
Threescore and ten I can remember well,
Within the Volume of which Time, I haue seene
Houres dreadfull, and things strange: but this sore Night
875 Hath 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:
880 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,
885 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,
890 Turn'd wilde in nature, broke their stalls, flong out,
Contending 'gainst Obedience, as they would
Make Warre with Mankinde.
Old man.
'Tis said, they eate each other.
Rosse.
They did so:
To
[p. 139]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 139]](FFimg:axc0749-0.jpg){kind=link}
895 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.
900 Those that Macbeth hath slaine.
Ross.
Alas the day,
What good could they pretend?
Macd.
They were subborned,
Malcolme, and Donalbaine the Kings two Sonnes
905 Are stolne away and fled, which puts vpon them
Suspition of the deed.
Rosse.
'Gainst Nature still,
Thriftlesse Ambition, that will rauen vp
Thine owne liues meanes: Then 'tis most like,
910 The Soueraignty will fall vpon Macbeth.
Macd.
He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone
To be inuested.
Rosse.
Where is Duncans body?
Macd.
Carried to Colmekill,
915 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.
920 Well may you see things wel done there: Adieu
Least our old Robes sit easier then our new.
Rosse.
Farewell, Father.
Old M.
Gods benyson go with you, and with those
That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes.
Exeunt omnes
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
[Act 3, Scene 1]
Enter Banquo.
Banq.
925 Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weyard Women promis'd, and I feare
Thou playd'st most fowly for't: yet it was saide
It should not stand in thy Posterity,
But that my selfe should be the Roote, and Father
930 Of many Kings. If there come truth from them,
As vpon thee Banquo, 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, and Attendants.
Rosse, Lords, and Attendants.
Macb.
935 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,
940 And Ile request your presence.
Banq.
Let your Highnesse
Command vpon me, to the which my duties
Are with a most indissoluble tye
For euer knit.
Macb.
945 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.
950 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.
955 Faile not our Feast.
Ban.
My Lord, I will not.
Macb.
We heare our bloody Cozens are bestow'd
In England, and in Ireland, not confessing
Their cruell Parricide, filling their hearers
960 With 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.
965 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,
970 Till seuen at Night, to make societie
The 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 men
975 Our pleasure?
Seruant.
They are, my Lord, without the Pallace
Gate.
Gate.
Macb.
Bring them before vs.
Exit Seruant.
To be thus, is nothing, but to be safely thus:
Our feares in Banquo sticke deepe,
980 And in his Royaltie of Nature reignes that
Which 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,
985 Whose being I doe feare: and vnder him,
My Genius is rebuk'd, as it is said
Mark Anthonies was by Cæsar. He chid the Sisters,
When first they put the Name of King vpon me,
And bad them speake to him. Then Prophet‑like,
990 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,
995 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 Peace
Onely for them, and mine eternall Iewell
Giuen to the common Enemie of Man,
1000 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.
1005 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,
[p. 140]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 140]](FFimg:axc0750-0.jpg){kind=link}
Know, that it was he, in the times past,
1010 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:
1015 The Instruments: who wrought with them:
And all things else, that might
To halfe a Soule, and to a Notion craz'd,
Say, Thus did Banquo.
1. Murth.
You made it knowne to vs.
Macb.
1020 I did so:
And went further, which is now
Our point of second meeting.
Doe you finde your patience so predominant,
In your nature, that you can let this goe?
1025 Are you so Gospell'd, to pray for this good man,
And for his Issue, whose heauie hand
Hath bow'd you to the Graue, and begger'd
Yours for euer?
1. Murth.
We are men, my Liege.
Macb.
1030 I, in the Catalogue ye goe for men,
As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mungrels, Spaniels, Curres,
Showghes, Water‑Rugs, and Demy‑Wolues are clipt
All by the Name of Dogges: the valued file
Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
1035 The House‑keeper, the Hunter, euery one
According to the gift, which bounteous Nature
Hath in him clos'd: whereby he does receiue
Particular addition, from the Bill,
That writes them all alike: and so of men.
1040 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,
1045 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 World
Hath so incens'd, that I am recklesse what I doe,
1050 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.
1055 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, thrusts
Against my neer'st of Life: and though I could
1060 With 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,
1065 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.
1070 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,
1075 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,
1080 Whose absence is no lesse materiall to me,
Then is his Fathers, must embrace the fate
Of that darke houre: resolue your selues apart,
Ile come to you anon.
Murth.
We are resolu'd, my Lord.
Macb.
1085 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.
[Act 3, Scene 2]
Enter Macbeths Lady, and a Seruant.
Lady.
Is Banquo gone from Court?
Seruant.
I, Madame, but returnes againe to Night.
Lady.
1090 Say to the King, I would attend his leysure,
For a few words.
Seruant.
Madame, I will.
Exit.
Lady.
Nought's had, all's spent,
Where our desire is got without content:
1095 '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'd
1100 With them they thinke on: things without all remedie
Should 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 Mallice
Remaines in danger of her former Tooth.
1105 But let the frame of things dis‑ioynt,
Both the Worlds suffer,
Ere we will eate our Meale in feare, and sleepe
In the affliction of these terrible Dreames,
That shake vs Nightly: Better be with the dead,
1110 Whom we, to gayne our peace, haue sent to peace,
Then on the torture of the Minde to lye
In restlesse extasie.
Duncane is in his Graue:
After Lifes fitfull Feuer, he sleepes well,
1115 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,
1120 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 laue
1125 Our 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:
1130 Thou know'st, that Banquo and his Fleans liues.
![[p. 141]](FFimg:axc0751-0.jpg){kind=link}
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 flowne
His Cloyster'd flight, ere to black Heccats summons
1135 The 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,
1140 Till thou applaud the deed: Come, seeling Night,
Skarfe vp the tender Eye of pittifull Day,
And with thy bloodie and inuisible Hand
Cancell and teare to pieces that great Bond,
Which keepes me pale. Light thickens,
1145 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:
1150 So prythee goe with me.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
[Act 3, Scene 3]
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,
1155 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 approches
1160 The 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,
1165 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 Gate
Make it their Walke.
Enter Banquo and Fleans, with a Torch.
2.
1170 A Light, a Light.
3.
'Tis hee.
1.
Stand too't.
Ban.
It will be Rayne to Night.
1.
Let it come downe.
Ban.
1175 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.
1180 There's but one downe: the Sonne is fled.
2.
We haue lost
Best halfe of our Affaire.
1.
Well, let's away, and say how much is done.
Exeunt.
Scæna Quarta.
[Act 3, Scene 4]
Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Rosse, Lenox,
Lords, and Attendants.
Lords, and Attendants.
Macb.
You know your owne degrees, sit downe:
1185 At first and last, the hearty welcome.
Lords.
Thankes to your Maiesty.
Macb.
Our selfe will mingle with Society,
And play the humble Host:
Our Hostesse keepes her State, but in best time
1190 We will require her welcome.
La.
Pronounce it for me Sir, to all our Friends,
For my heart speakes, they are welcome.
Enter first Murtherer.
Macb.
See they encounter thee with their harts thanks
Both sides are euen: heere Ile sit i'th'mid'st,
1195 Be large in mirth, anon wee'l drinke a Measure
The Table round. There's blood vpon thy face.
Mur.
'Tis Banquo's then.
Macb.
'Tis better thee without, then he within.
Is he dispatch'd?
Mur.
1200 My Lord his throat is cut, that I did for him.
Mac.
Thou art the best o'th'Cut‑throats,
Yet hee's good that did the like for Fleans:
If thou did'st it, thou art the Non‑pareill.
Mur.
Most Royall Sir
1205 Fleans is scap'd.
Macb.
Then comes my Fit againe:
I had else beene perfect;
Whole as the Marble, founded as the Rocke,
As broad, and generall, as the casing Ayre:
1210 But now I am cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd, bound in
To sawcy doubts, and feares. But Banquo's safe?
Mur.
I, my good Lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
The least a Death to Nature.
Macb.
1215 Thankes for that:
There the growne Serpent lyes, the worme that's fled
Hath Nature that in time will Venom breed,
No teeth for th'present. Get thee gone, to morrow
Wee'l heare our selues againe.
Exit Murderer.
Lady.
1220 My Royall Lord,
You do not giue the Cheere, the Feast is sold
That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making:
'Tis giuen, with welcome: to feede were best at home:
From thence, the sawce to meate is Ceremony,
1225 Meeting were bare without it.
Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and sits in Macbeths place.
Macb.
Sweet Remembrancer:
Now good digestion waite on Appetite,
And health on both.
Lenox.
May't please your Highnesse sit.
Macb.
1230 Here had we now our Countries Honor, roof'd,
Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present:
Who, may I rather challenge for vnkindnesse,
Then pitty for Mischance.
Rosse.
His absence (Sir)
1235 Layes blame vpon his promise. Pleas't your Highnesse
To grace vs with your Royall Company?
![[p. 142]](FFimg:axc0752-0.jpg){kind=link}
Macb.
The Table's full.
Lenox.
Heere is a place reseru'd Sir.
Macb.
Where?
Lenox.
1240 Heere my good Lord.
What is't that moues your Highnesse?
Macb.
Which of you haue done this?
Lords.
What, my good Lord?
Macb.
Thou canst not say I did it: neuer shake
1245 Thy goary lockes at me.
Rosse.
Gentlemen rise, his Highnesse is not well.
Lady.
Sit worthy Friends: my Lord is often thus,
And hath beene from his youth. Pray you keepe Seat,
The fit is momentary, vpon a thought
1250 He will againe be well. If much you note him
You shall offend him, and extend his Passion,
Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?
Macb.
I, and a bold one, that dare looke on that
Which might appall the Diuell.
La.
1255 O proper stuffe:
This is the very painting of your feare:
This is the Ayre‑drawne‑Dagger which you said
Led you to Duncan. O, these flawes and starts
(Impostors to true feare) would well become
1260 A womans story, at a Winters fire
Authoriz'd by her Grandam: shame it selfe,
Why do you make such faces? When all's done
You looke but on a stoole.
Macb.
Prythee see there:
1265 Behold, looke, loe, how say you:
Why what care I, if thou canst nod, speake too.
If Charnell houses, and our Graues must send
Those that we bury, backe; our Monuments
Shall be the Mawes of Kytes.
La.
1270 What? quite vnmann'd in folly.
Macb.
If I stand heere, I saw him.
La.
Fie for shame.
Macb.
Blood hath bene shed ere now, i'th'olden time
Ere humane Statute purg'd the gentle Weale:
1275 I, and since too, Murthers haue bene perform'd
Too terrible for the eare. The times has bene,
That when the Braines were out, the man would dye,
And there an end: But now they rise againe
With twenty mortall murthers on their crownes,
1280 And push vs from our stooles. This is more strange
Then such a murther is.
La.
My worthy Lord
Your Noble Friends do lacke you.
Macb.
I do forget:
1285 Do not muse at me my most worthy Friends,
I haue a strange infirmity, which is nothing
To those that know me. Come, loue and health to all,
Then Ile sit downe: Giue me some Wine, fill full:
Enter Ghost.
I drinke to th'generall ioy o'th'whole Table,
1290 And to our deere Friend Banquo, whom we misse:
Would he were heere: to all, and him we thirst,
And all to all.
Lords.
Our duties, and the pledge.
Mac.
[.] let the earth hide thee:
1295 Thy bones are marrowlesse, thy blood is cold:
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with.
La.
Thinke of this good Peeres
But as a thing of Custome: 'Tis no other,
1300 [..]spoyles the pleasure of the time.
Macb.
What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian Beare,
The arm'd Rhinoceros, or th'Hircan Tiger,
Take any shape but that, and my firme Nerues
1305 Shall neuer tremble. Or be aliue againe,
And dare me to the Desart with thy Sword:
If trembling I inhabit the[.], protest mee
The Baby of a Girle. Hence horrible shadow,
Vnreall mock'ry hence. Why so, being gone
1310 I am a man againe: pray you sit still.
La.
You haue displac'd the mirth,
Broke the good meeting, with most admir'd disorder.
Macb.
Can such things be,
And ouercome vs like a Summers Clowd,
1315 Without our speciall wonder? You make me strange
Euen to the disposition that I owe,
When now I thinke you can behold such sights,
And keepe the naturall Rubie of your Cheekes,
When mine is blanch'd with feare.
Rosse.
1320 What sights, my Lord?
La.
I pray you speake not: he growes worse & worse
Question enrages him: at once, goodnight.
Stand not vpon the order of your going,
But go at once.
Len.
1325 Good night, and better health
Attend his Maiesty.
La.
A kinde goodnight to all.
Exit Lords.
Macb.
It will haue blood they say:
Blood will haue Blood:
1330 Stones haue beene knowne to moue, & Trees to speake:
Augures, and vnderstood Relations, haue
By Maggot Pyes, & Choughes, & Rookes brought forth
The secret'st man of Blood. What is the night?
La.
Almost at oddes with morning, which is which.
Macb.
1335 How say'st thou that Macduff denies his person
At our great bidding.
La.
Did you send to him Sir?
Macb.
I heare it by the way: But I will send:
There's not a one of them but in his house
1340 I keepe a Seruant Feed. I will to morrow
(And betimes I will) to the weyard Sisters.
More shall they speake: for now I am bent to know
By the worst meanes, the worst, for mine owne good,
All causes shall giue way. I am in blood
1345 Stept in so farre, that should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go ore:
Strange things I haue in head, that will to hand,
Which must be acted, ere they may be scand.
La.
You lacke the season of all Natures, sleepe.
Macb.
1350 Come, wee'l to sleepe: My strange & self‑abuse
Is the initiate feare, that wants hard vse:
We are yet but yong indeed.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
[Act 3, Scene 5]
Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting
Hecat.
Hecat.
1.
Why how now Hecat, you looke angerly?
Hec.
Haue I not reason (Beldams) as you are?
1355 Sawcy, and ouer‑bold, how did you dare
To Trade, and Trafficke with Macbeth,
In Riddles, and Affaires of death;
And
[p. 143]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 143]](FFimg:axc0753-0.jpg){kind=link}
And I the Mistris of your Charmes,
The close contriuer of all harmes,
1360 Was neuer call'd to beare my part,
Or shew the glory of our Art?
And which is worse, all you haue done
Hath bene but for a wayward Sonne,
Spightfull, and wrathfull, who (as others do)
1365 Loues for his owne ends, not for you.
But make amends now: Get you gon,
And at the pit of Acheron
Meete me i'th'Morning: thither he
Will come, to know his Destinie.
1370 Your Vessels, and your Spels prouide,
Your Charmes, and euery thing beside;
I am for th'Ayre: This night Ile spend
Vnto a dismall, and a Fatall end.
Great businesse must be wrought ere Noone.
1375 Vpon the Corner of the Moone
There hangs a vap'rous drop, profound,
Ile catch it ere it come to ground;
And that distill'd by Magicke slights,
Shall raise such Artificiall Sprights,
1380 As by the strength of their illusion,
Shall draw him on to his Confusion.
He shall spurne Fate, scorne Death, and beare
His hopes 'boue Wisedome, Grace, and Feare:
And you all know, Security
1385 Is Mortals cheefest Enemie.
Musicke, and a Song.
Hearke, I am call'd: my little Spirit see
Sits in Foggy cloud, and stayes for me.
Sing within. Come away, come away, &c.
1
Come, let's make hast, shee'l soone be
Backe againe.
Exeunt.
Scæna Sexta.
[Act 3, Scene 6]
Enter Lenox, and another Lord.
Lenox.
1390 My former Speeches,
Haue but hit your Thoughts
Which can interpret farther: Onely I say
Things haue bin strangely borne. The gracious Duncan
Was pittied of Macbeth: marry he was dead:
1395 And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too late,
Whom you may say (if't please you) Fleans kill'd,
For Fleans fled: Men must not walke too late.
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous
It was for Malcolme, and for Donalbane
1400 To kill their gracious Father? Damned Fact,
How it did greeue Macbeth? Did he not straight
In pious rage, the two delinquents teare,
That were the Slaues of drinke, and thralles of sleepe?
Was not that Nobly done? I, and wisely too:
1405 For 'twould haue anger'd any heart aliue
To heare the men deny't. So that I say,
He ha's borne all things well, and I do thinke,
That had he Duncans Sonnes vnder his Key,
(As, and't please Heauen he shall not) they should finde
1410 What 'twere to kill a Father: So should Fleans.
But peace; for from broad words, and cause he fayl'd
His presence at the Tyrants Feast, I heare
Macduffe liues in disgrace. Sir, can you tell
Where he bestowes himselfe?
Lord.
1415 The Sonnes of Duncane
(From whom this Tyrant holds the due of Birth)
Liues in the English Court, and is receyu'd
Of the most Pious Edward, with such grace,
That the maleuolence of Fortune, nothing
1420 Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduffe
Is gone, to pray the Holy King, vpon his ayd
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Seyward,
That by the helpe of these (with him aboue)
To ratifie the Worke) we may againe
1425 Giue to our Tables meate, sleepe to our Nights:
Free from our Feasts, and Banquets bloody kniues;
Do faithfull Homage, and receiue free Honors,
All which we pine for now. And this report
Hath so exasperate their King, that hee
1430 Prepares for some attempt of Warre.
Len.
Sent he to Macduffe?
Lord.
He did: and with an absolute Sir, not I
The clowdy Messenger turnes me his backe,
And hums; as who should say, you'l rue the time
1435 That clogges me with this Answer.
Lenox.
And that well might
Aduise him to a Caution, t hold what distance
His wisedome can prouide. Some holy Angell
Flye to the Court of England, and vnfold
1440 His Message ere he come, that a swift blessing
May soone returne to this our suffering Country,
Vnder a hand accurs'd.
Lord.
Ile send my Prayers with him.
Exeunt
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
[Act 4, Scene 1]
Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
1
Thrice the brinded Cat hath mew'd.
2
1445 Thrice, and once the Hedge‑Pigge whin'd.
3
Harpier cries, 'tis time, 'tis time.
1
Round about the Caldron go:
In the poysond Entrailes throw
Toad, that vnder cold stone,
1450 Dayes and Nights, ha's thirty one:
Sweltred Venom sleeping got,
Boyle thou first i'th'charmed pot.
All.
Double, double, toile and trouble;
Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble.
2
1455 Fillet of a Fenny Snake,
In the Cauldron boyle and bake:
Eye of Newt, and Toe of Frogge,
Wooll of Bat, and Tongue of Dogge:
Adders Forke, and Blinde‑wormes Sting,
1460 Lizards legge, and Howlets wing:
For a Charme of powrefull trouble,
Like a Hell‑broth, boyle and bubble.
All.
Double, double, toyle and trouble,
Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble.
3
1465 Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolfe,
Witches Mummey, Maw, and Gulfe
Of the rauin'd salt Sea sharke:
Roote of Hemlocke, digg'd i'th'darke:
Liuer of Blaspheming Iew,
1470 Gall of Goate, and Slippes of Yew,
Sliuer'd in the Moones Ecclipse:
Nose
[p. 144]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 144]](FFimg:axc0754-0.jpg){kind=link}
Nose of Turke, and Tartars lips:
Finger of Birth‑strangled Babe,
Ditch‑deliuer'd by a Drab,
1475 Make the Grewell thicke, and slab.
Adde thereto a Tigers Chawdron,
For th'Ingredience of our Cawdron.
All.
Double, double, toyle and trouble,
Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble.
2
1480 Coole it with a Baboones blood,
Then the Charme is firme and good.
Enter Hecat, and the other three Witches.
Hec.
O well done: I commend your paines,
And euery one shall share i'th'gaines:
And now about the Cauldron sing
1485 Like Elues and Fairies in a Ring,
Inchanting all that you put in.
Musicke and a Song. Blacke Spirits, &c.
2
By the pricking of my Thumbes,
Something wicked this way comes:
Open Lockes, who euer knockes.
Enter Macbeth.
Macb.
1490 How now you secret, black, & midnight Hags?
What is't you do?
All.
A deed without a name.
Macb.
I coniure you, by that which you Professe,
(How ere you come to know it) answer me:
1495 Though you vntye the Windes, and let them fight
Against the Churches: Though the yesty Waues
Confound and swallow Nauigation vp:
Though bladed Corne be lodg'd, & Trees blown downe,
Though Castles topple on their Warders heads:
1500 Though Pallaces, and Pyramids do slope
Their heads to their Foundations: Though the treasure
Of Natures Germaine, tumble altogether,
Euen till destruction sicken: Answer me
To what I aske you.
1
1505 Speake.
2
Demand.
3
Wee'l answer.
1
Say, if th'hadst rather heare it from our mouthes,
Or from our Masters.
Macb.
1510 Call 'em: let me see 'em.
1
Powre in Sowes blood, that hath eaten
Her nine Farrow: Greaze that's sweaten
From the Murderers Gibbet, throw
Into the Flame.
All.
1515 Come high or low:
Thy Selfe and Office deaftly show.
Thunder.
1. Apparation, an Armed Head.
Macb.
Tell me, thou vnknowne power.
1
He knowes thy thought:
Heare his speech, but say thou nought.
1 Appar.
1520 Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth:
Beware Macduffe,
Beware the Thane of Fife: dismisse me. Enough.
He Descends.
Macb.
What ere thou art, for thy good caution, thanks
Thou hast harp'd my feare aright. But one word more.
1
1525 He will not be commanded: heere's another
More potent then the first.
Thunder.
2 Apparition, a Bloody Childe.
2 Appar.
Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth.
Macb.
Had I three eares, Il'd heare thee.
2 Appar.
Be bloody, bold, & resolute:
1530 Laugh to scorne
The powre of man: For none of woman borne
Shall harme Macbeth.
Descends.
Mac.
Then liue Macduffe: what need I feare of thee?
But yet Ile make assurance: double sure,
1535 And take a Bond of Fate: thou shalt not liue,
That I may tell pale‑hearted Feare, it lies;
And sleepe in spight of Thunder.
Thunder
3 Apparation, a Childe Crowned, with a Tree in his hand.
What is this, that rises like the issue of a King,
And weares vpon his Baby‑brow, the round
1540 And top of Soueraignty?
All.
Listen, but speake not too't.
3 Appar.
Be Lyon metled, proud, and take no care:
Who chafes, who frets, or where Conspirers are:
Macbeth shall neuer vanquish'd be, vntill
1545 Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunsmane Hill
Shall come against him.
Descend.
Macb.
That will neuer bee:
Who can impresse the Forrest, bid the Tree
Vnfixe his earth‑bound Root? Sweet boadments, good:
1550 Rebellious dead, rise neuer till the Wood
Of Byrnan rise, and our high plac'd Macbeth
Shall liue the Lease of Nature, pay his breath
To time, and mortall Custome. Yet my Hart
Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, if your Art
1555 Can tell so much: Shall Banquo's issue euer
Reigne in this Kingdome?
All.
Seeke to know no more.
Macb.
I will be satisfied. Deny me this,
And an eternall Curse fall on you: Let me know.
1560 Why sinkes that Caldron? & what noise is this?
Hoboyes
1
Shew.
2
Shew.
3
Shew.
All.
Shew his Eyes, and greeue his Hart,
1565 Come like shadowes, so depart.
A shew of eight Kings, and Banquo last, with a glasse
in his hand.
in his hand.
Macb.
Thou art too like the Spirit of Banquo: Down:
Thy Crowne do's seare mine Eye‑bals. And thy haire
Thou other Gold‑bound‑brow, is like the first:
A third, is like the former. Filthy Hagges,
1570 Why do you shew me this?⸺A fourth? Start eyes!
What will the Line stretch out to'th'cracke of Doome?
Another yet? A seauenth? Ile see no more:
And yet the eighth appeares, who beares a glasse,
Which shewes me many more: and some I see,
1575 That two‑fold Balles, and trebble Scepters carry.
Horrible sight: Now I see 'tis true,
For the Blood‑bolter'd Banquo smiles vpon me,
And points at them for his. What? is this so?
1
I Sir, all this is so. But why
1580 Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
Come Sisters, cheere we vp his sprights,
And shew the best of our delights.
Ile Charme the Ayre to giue a sound,
While you performe your Antique round:
1585 That this great King may kindly say,
Our duties, did his welcome pay.
Musicke.
The Witches Dance, and vanish.
Macb.
Where are they? Gone?
Let this pernitious houre,
Stand aye accursed in the Kalender.
1590 Come in, without there.
Enter Lenox.
Lenox.
What's your Graces will.
![[p. 145]](FFimg:axc0755-0.jpg){kind=link}
Macb.
Saw you the Weyard Sisters?
Lenox.
No my Lord.
Macb.
Came they not by you?
Lenox.
1595 No indeed my Lord.
Macb.
Infected be the Ayre whereon they ride,
And damn'd all those that trust them. I did heare
The gallopping of Horse. Who was't came by?
Len.
'Tis two or three my Lord, that bring you word:
1600 Macduff is fled to England.
Macb.
Fled to England?
Len.
I, my good Lord.
Macb.
Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits:
The flighty purpose neuer is o're‑tooke
1605 Vnlesse the deed go with it. From this moment,
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And euen now
To Crown my thoughts with Acts: be it thoght & done:
The Castle of Macduff, I will surprize,
1610 Seize vpon Fife; giue to th'edge o'th'Sword
His Wife, his Babes, and all vnfortunate Soules
That trace him in his Line. No boasting like a Foole,
This deed Ile do, before this purpose coole,
But no more sights. Where are these Gentlemen?
1615 Come bring me where they are.
Exeunt
Scena Secunda.
[Act 4, Scene 2]
Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Rosse.
Wife.
What had he done, to make him fly the Land?
Rosse.
You must haue patience Madam.
Wife.
He had none:
His flight was madnesse: when our Actions do not,
1620 Our feares do make vs Traitors.
Rosse.
You know not
Whether it was his wisedome, or his feare.
Wife.
Wisedom? to leaue his wife, to leaue his Babes,
His Mansion, and his Titles, in a place
1625 From whence himselfe do's flye? He loues vs not,
He wants the naturall touch. For the poore Wren
(The most diminitiue of Birds) will fight,
Her yong ones in her Nest, against the Owle:
All is the Feare, and nothing is the Loue;
1630 As little is the Wisedome, where the flight
So runnes against all reason.
Rosse.
My deerest Cooz,
I pray you schoole your selfe. But for your Husband,
He is Noble, Wise, Iudicious, and best knowes
1635 The fits o'th'Season. I dare not speake much further,
But cruell are the times, when we are Traitors
And do not know our selues: when we hold Rumor
From what we feare, yet know not what we feare,
But floate vpon a wilde and violent Sea
1640 Each way, and moue. I take my leaue of you:
Shall not be long but Ile be heere againe:
Things at the worst will cease, or else climbe vpward,
To what they were before. My pretty Cosine,
Blessing vpon you.
Wife.
1645 Father'd he is,
And yet hee's Father‑lesse.
Rosse.
I am so much a Foole, should I stay longer
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort.
I take my leaue at once.
Exit Rosse.
Wife.
1650 Sirra, your Fathers dead,
And what will you do now? How will you liue?
Son.
As Birds do Mother.
Wife.
What with Wormes, and Flyes?
Son.
With what I get I meane, and so do they.
Wife.
1655 Poore Bird,
Thou'dst neuer Feare the Net, nor Lime,
The Pitfall, nor the Gin.
Son.
Why should I Mother?
Poore Birds they are not set for:
1660 My Father is not dead for all your saying.
Wife.
Yes, he is dead:
How wilt thou do for a Father?
Son.
Nay how will you do for a Husband?
Wife.
Why I can buy me twenty at any Market.
Son.
1665 Then you'l by 'em to sell againe.
Wife.
Thou speak'st withall thy wit,
And yet I'faith with wit enough for thee.
Son.
Was my Father a Traitor, Mother?
Wife.
I, that he was.
Son.
1670 What is a Traitor?
Wife.
Why one that sweares, and lyes.
Son.
And be all Traitors, that do so.
Wife.
Euery one that do's so, is a Traitor,
And must be hang'd.
Son.
1675 And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lye?
Wife.
Euery one.
Son.
Who must hang them?
Wife.
Why, the honest men.
Son.
1679Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there [l. 1680] are Lyars and Swearers enow, to beate the honest men, [l. 1681] and hang vp them.
Wife.
Now God helpe thee, poore Monkie:
But how wilt thou do for a Father?
Son.
1684If he were dead, youl'd weepe for him: if you [l. 1685] would not, it were a good signe, that I should quickely [l. 1686] haue a new Father.
Wife.
Poore pratler, how thou talk'st?
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
Blesse you faire Dame: I am not to you known,
Though in your state of Honor I am perfect;
1690 I doubt some danger do's approach you neerely.
If you will take a homely mans aduice,
Be not found heere: Hence with your little ones
To fright you thus. Me thinkes I am too sauage:
To do worse to you, were fell Cruelty,
1695 Which is too nie your person. Heauen preserue you,
I dare abide no longer.
Exit Messenger
Wife.
Whether should I flye?
I haue done no harme. But I remember now
I am in this earthly world: where to do harme
1700 Is often laudable, to do good sometime
Accounted dangerous folly. Why then (alas)
Do I put vp that womanly defence,
To say I haue done no harme?
What are these faces?
Enter Murtherers.
Mur.
1705 Where is your Husband?
Wife.
I hope in no place so vnsanctified,
Where such as thou may'st finde him.
Mur.
He's a Traitor.
Son.
Thou ly'st thou shagge‑ear'd Villaine.
Mur.
1710 What you Egge?
Yong fry of Treachery?
Son.
He ha's kill'd me Mother,
Run away I pray you.
Exit crying Murther.
Nn
Scena
[p. 146]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 146]](FFimg:axc0756-0.jpg){kind=link}
Sc[…]na Tertia.
[Act 4, Scene 3]
Enter Malcolme and Macduffe.
Mal.
Let vs seeke out some desolate shade, & there
1715 Weepe our sad bosomes empty.
Macd.
Let vs rather
Hold fast the mortall Sword: and like good men,
Bestride our downfall Birthdome: each new Morne,
New Widdowes howle, new Orphans cry, new sorowes
1720 Strike heauen on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out
Like Syllable of Dolour.
Mal.
What I beleeue, Ile waile;
What know, beleeue; and what I can redresse,
1725 As I shall finde the time to friend: I wil.
What you haue spoke, it may be so perchance.
This Tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you haue lou'd him well,
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am yong, but something
1730 You may discerne of him through me, and wisedome
To offer vp a weake, poore innocent Lambe
T'appease an angry God.
Macd.
I am not treacherous.
Malc.
But Macbeth is.
1735 A good and vertuous Nature may recoyle
In an Imperiall charge. But I shall craue your pardon:
That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose;
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
Though all things foule, would wear the brows of grace
1740 Yet Grace must still looke so.
Macd.
I haue lost my Hopes.
Malc.
Perchance euen there
Where I did finde my doubts.
Why in that rawnesse left you Wife, and Childe?
1745 Those precious Motiues, those strong knots of Loue,
Without leaue‑taking. I pray you,
Let not my Iealousies, be your Dishonors,
But mine owne Safeties: you may be rightly iust,
What euer I shall thinke.
Macd.
1750 Bleed, bleed poore Country,
Great Tyrrany, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodnesse dare not check thee: wear yu thy wrongs,
The Title, is affear'd. Far thee well Lord,
I would not be the Villaine that thou think'st,
1755 For the whole Space that's in the Tyrants Graspe,
And the rich East to boot.
Mal.
Be not offended:
I speake not as in absolute feare of you:
I thinke our Country sinkes beneath the yoake,
1760 It weepes, it bleeds, and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds. I thinke withall,
There would be hands vplifted in my right:
And heere from gracious England haue I offer
Of goodly thousands. But for all this,
1765 When I shall treade vpon the Tyrants head,
Or weare it on my Sword; yet my poore Country
Shall haue more vices then it had before,
More suffer, and more sundry wayes then euer,
By him that shall succeede.
Macd.
1770 What should he be?
Mal.
It is my selfe I meane: in whom I know
All the particulars of Vice so grafted,
That when they shall be open'd, blacke Macbeth
Will seeme as pure as Snow, and the poore State
1775 Esteeme him as a Lambe, being compar'd
With my confinelesse harmes.
Macd.
Not in the Legions
Of horrid Hell, can come a Diuell more damn'd
In euils, to top Macbeth.
Mal.
1780 I grant him Bloody,
Luxurious, Auaricious, False, Deceitfull,
Sodaine, Malicious, smacking of euery sinne
That ha's a name. But there's no bottome, none
In my Voluptuousnesse: Your Wiues, your Daughters,
1785 Your Matrons, and your Maides, could not fill vp
The Cesterne of my Lust, and my Desire
All continent Impediments would ore‑beare
That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth,
Then such an one to reigne.
Macd.
1790 Boundlesse intemperance
In Nature is a Tyranny: It hath beene
Th'vntimely emptying of the happy Throne,
And fall of many Kings. But feare not yet
To take vpon you what is yours: you may
1795 Conuey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet seeme cold. The time you may so hoodwinke:
We haue willing Dames enough: there cannot be
That Vulture in you, to deuoure so many
As will to Greatnesse dedicate themselues,
1800 Finding it so inclinde.
Mal.
With this, there growes
In my most ill‑compos'd Affection, such
A stanchlesse Auarice, that were I King,
I should cut off the Nobles for their Lands,
1805 Desire his Iewels, and this others House,
And my more‑hauing, would be as a Sawce
To make me hunger more, that I should forge
Quarrels vniust against the Good and Loyall,
Destroying them for wealth.
Macd.
1810 This Auarice
stickes deeper: growes with more pernicious roote
Then Summer‑seeming Lust: and it hath bin
The Sword of our slaine Kings: yet do not feare,
Scotland hath Foysons, to fill vp your will
1815 Of your meere Owne. All these are portable,
With other Graces weigh'd.
Mal.
But I haue none. The King‑becoming Graces,
As Iustice, Verity, Temp'rance, Stablenesse,
Bounty, Perseuerance, Mercy, Lowlinesse,
1820 Deuotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude,
I haue no rellish of them, but abound
In the diuision of each seuerall Crime,
Acting it many wayes. Nay, had I powre, I should
Poure the sweet Milke of Concord, into Hell,
1825 Vprore the vniuersall peace, confound
All vnity on earth.
Macd.
O Scotland, Scotland.
Mal.
If such a one be fit to gouerne, speake:
I am as I haue spoken.
Mac.
1830 Fit to gouern? No not to liue. O Nation miserable!
With an vntitled Tyrant, bloody Sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholsome dayes againe?
Since that the truest Issue of thy Throne
By his owne Interdiction stands accust,
1835 And do's blaspheme his breed? Thy Royall Father
Was a most Sainted‑King: the Queene that bore thee,
Oftner vpon her knees, then on her feet,
Dy'de euery day she liu'd. Fare thee well,
These
[p. 147]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 147]](FFimg:axc0757-0.jpg){kind=link}
These Euils thou repeat'st vpon thy selfe,
1840 Hath banish'd me from Scotland. O my Brest,
Thy hope ends heere.
Mal.
Macduff, this Noble passion
Childe of integrity, hath from my soule
Wip'd the blacke Scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts
1845 To thy good Truth, and Honor. Diuellish Macbeth,
By many of these traines, hath sought to win me
Into his power: and modest Wisedome pluckes me
From ouer‑credulous hast: but God aboue
Deale betweene thee and me; For euen now
1850 I put my selfe to thy Direction, and
Vnspeake mine owne detraction. Heere abiure
The taints, and blames I laide vpon my selfe,
For strangers to my Nature. I am yet
Vnknowne to Woman, neuer was forsworne,
1855 Scarsely haue coueted what was mine owne:
At no time broke my Faith, would not betray
The Deuill to his Fellow, and delight
No lesse in truth then life. My first false speaking
Was this vpon my selfe. What I am truly
1860 Is thine, and my poore Countries to command:
Whither indeed, before they heere approach
Old Seyward with ten thousand warlike men
Already at a point, was setting foorth:
Now wee'l together, and the chance of goodnesse
1865 Be like our warranted Quarrell. Why are you silent?
Macd.
Such welcome, and vnwelcom things [.] once
'Tis hard to reconcile.
Enter a Doctor.
Mal.
Well, more anon. Comes the King forth
I pray you?
Doct.
1870 I Sir: there are a crew of wretched Soules
That stay his Cure: their malady conuinces
The great assay of Art. But at his touch,
Such sanctity hath Heauen giuen his hand,
They presently amend.
Exit.
Mal.
1875 I thanke you Doctor.
Macd.
What's the Disease he meanes?
Mal.
Tis call'd the Euill.
A most myraculous worke in this good King,
Which often since my heere remaine in England,
1880 I haue seene him do: How he solicites heauen
Himselfe best knowes: but strangely visited people
All swolne and Vlcerous, pittifull to the eye,
The meere dispaire of Surgery, he cures,
Hanging a golden stampe about their neckes,
1885 Put on with holy Prayers, and 'tis spoken
To the succeeding Royalty he leaues
The healing Benediction. With this strange vertue,
He hath a heauenly guift of Prophesie,
And sundry Blessings hang about his Throne,
1890 That speake him full of Grace.
Enter Rosse.
Macd.
See who comes heere.
Malc.
My Countryman: but yet I know him not.
Macd.
My euer gentle Cozen, welcome hither.
Malc.
I know him now. Good God betimes remoue
1895 The meanes that makes vs Strangers.
Rosse.
Sir, Amen.
Macd.
Stands Scotland where it did?
Rosse.
Alas poore Countrey,
Almost affraid to know it selfe. It cannot
1900 Be call'd our Mother, but our Graue; where nothing
But who knowes nothing, is once seene to smile:
Where sighes, and groanes, and shrieks that rent the ayre
Are made, not mark'd: Where violent sorrow seemes
A Moderne extasie: The Deadmans knell,
1905 Is there scarse ask'd for who, and good mens liues
Expire before the Flowers in their Caps,
Dying, or ere they sicken.
Macd.
Oh Relation; too nice, and yet too true.
Malc.
What's the newest griefe?
Rosse.
1910 That of an houres age, doth hisse the speaker,
Each minute teemes a new one.
Macd.
How do's my Wife?
Rosse.
Why well.
Macd.
And all my Children?
Rosse.
1915 Well too.
Macd.
The Tyrant ha's not batter'd at their peace?
Rosse.
No, they were wel at peace, when I did leaue 'em
Macd.
Be not a niggard of your speech: How gos't?
Rosse.
When I came hither to transport the Tydings
1920 Which I haue heauily borne, there ran a Rumour
Of many worthy Fellowes, that were out,
Which was to my beleefe witnest the rather,
For that I saw the Tyrants Power a‑foot.
Now is the time of helpe: your eye in Scotland
1925 Would create Soldiours, make our women fight,
To doffe their dire distresses.
Malc.
Bee't their comfort
We are comming thither: Gracious England hath
Lent vs good Seyward, and ten thousand men,
1930 An older, and a better Souldier, none
That Christendome giues out.
Rosse.
Would I could answer
This comfort with the like. But I haue words
That would be howl'd out in the desert ayre,
1935 Where hearing should not latch them.
Macd.
What concerne they,
The generall cause, or is it a Fee‑griefe
Due to some single brest?
Rosse.
No minde that's honest
1940 But in it shares some woe, though the maine part
Pertaines to you alone.
Macd.
If it be mine
Keepe it not from me, quickly let me haue it.
Rosse.
Let not your eares dispise my tongue for euer,
1945 Which shall possesse them with the heauiest sound
That euer yet they heard.
Macd.
Humh: I guesse at it.
Rosse.
Your Castle is surpriz'd: your Wife, and Babes
Sauagely slaughter'd: To relate the manner
1950 Were on the Quarry of these murther'd Deere
To adde the death of you.
Malc.
Mercifull Heauen:
What man, ne're pull your hat vpon your browes:
Giue sorrow words; the griefe that do's not speake,
1955 Whispers the o're‑fraught heart, and bids it breake.
Macd.
My Children too?
Ro.
Wife, Children, Seruants, all that could be found.
Macd.
And I must be from thence? My wife kil'd too?
Rosse.
I haue said.
Malc.
1960 Be comforted.
Let's make vs Med'cines of our great Reuenge,
To cure this deadly greefe.
Macd.
He ha's no Children. All my pretty ones?
Did you say All? Oh Hell‑Kite! All?
1965 What, All my pretty Chickens, and their Damme
At one fell swoope?
Malc.
Dispute it like a man.
Macd.
I shall do so:
Nn2
But
[p. 148]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 148]](FFimg:axc0758-0.jpg){kind=link}
But I must also feele it as a man;
1970 I cannot but remember such things were
That were most precious to me: Did heauen looke on,
And would not take their part? Sinfull Macduff,
They were all strooke for thee: Naught that I am,
Not for their owne demerits, but for mine
1975 Fell slaughter on their soules: Heauen rest them now.
Mal.
Be this the Whetstone of your sword, let griefe
Conuert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it.
Macd.
O I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And Braggart with my tongue. But gentle Heauens,
1980 Cut short all intermission: Front to Front,
Bring thou this Fiend of Scotland, and my selfe
Within my Swords length set him, if he scape
Heauen forgiue him too.
Mal.
This time goes manly:
1985 Come go we to the King, our Power is ready,
Our lacke is nothing but our leaue. Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the Powres aboue
Put on their Instruments: Receiue what cheere you may,
The Night is long, that neuer findes the Day.
Exeunt
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
[Act 5, Scene 1]
Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting
Gentlewoman.
Gentlewoman.
Doct.
1990I haue too Nights watch'd with you, but can [l. 1991] perceiue no truth in your report. When was it shee last [l. 1992] walk'd?
Gent.
1993Since his Maiesty went into the Field, I haue [l. 1994] seene her rise from her bed, throw her Night‑Gown vp [l. 1995] pon her, vnlocke her Closset, take foorth paper, folde it, [l. 1996] write vpon't, read it, afterwards Seale it, and againe re [l. 1997] turne to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleepe.
Doct.
1998A great perturbation in Nature, to receyue at [l. 1999] once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. [l. 2000] In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other [l. 2001] actuall performances, what (at any time) haue you heard [l. 2002] her say?
Gent.
That Sir, which I will not report after her.
Doct.
You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should.
Gent.
2005Neither to you, nor any one, hauing no witnesse [l. 2006] to confirme my speech.
Enter Lady, with a Taper.
2007Lo you, heere she comes: This is her very guise, and vp [l. 2008] on my life fast asleepe: obserue her, stand close.
Doct.
2009How came she by that light?
Gent.
2010Why it stood by her: she ha's light by her con [l. 2011] tinually, 'tis her command.
Doct.
2012You see her eyes are open.
Gent.
2013I but their sense are shut.
Doct.
What is it she do's now?
2015 Looke how she rubbes her hands.
Gent.
2016It is an accustom'd action with her, to seeme [l. 2017] thus washing her hands: I haue knowne her continue in [l. 2018] this a quarter of an houre.
Lad.
Yet heere's a spot.
Doct.
2020Heark, she speaks, I will set downe what comes [l. 2021] from her, to satisfie my remembrance the more strongly.
La.
2022Out damned spot: out I say. One: Two: Why [l. 2023] then 'tis time to doo't: Hell is murky. Fye, my Lord, fie, [l. 2024] a Souldier, and affear'd? what need we feare? who knowes [l. 2025] it, when none can call our powre to accompt: yet who [l. 2026] would haue thought the olde man to haue had so much [l. 2027] blood in him.
Doct.
Do you marke that?
Lad.
2029The Thane of Fife, had a wife: where is she now? [l. 2030] What will these hands ne're be cleane? No more o'that [l. 2031] my Lord, no more o'that: you marre all with this star [l. 2032] ting.
Doct.
Go too, go too:
You haue knowne what you should not.
Gent.
2035She ha's spoke what shee should not, I am sure [l. 2036] of that: Heauen knowes what she ha's knowne.
La.
2037Heere's the smell of the blood still: all the per [l. 2038] fumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
2039Oh, oh, oh.
Doct.
2040 What a sigh is there? The hart is sorely charg'd.
Gent.
2041I would not haue such a heart in my bosome, [l. 2042] for the dignity of the whole body.
Doct.
Well, well, well.
Gent.
Pray God it be sir.
Doct.
2045This disease is beyond my practise: yet I haue [l. 2046] knowne those which haue walkt in their sleep, who haue [l. 2047] dyed holily in their beds.
Lad.
2048Wash your hands, put on your Night‑Gowne, [l. 2049] looke not so pale: I tell you yet againe Banquo's buried; [l. 2050] he cannot come out on's graue.
Doct.
Euen so?
Lady.
2052To bed, to bed: there's knocking at the gate: [l. 2053] Come, come, come, come, giue me your hand: What's [l. 2054] done, cannot be vndone. To bed, to bed, to bed.
Exit Lady.
Doct.
2055 Will she go now to bed?
Gent.
Directly.
Doct.
Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds
Do breed vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes
To their deafe pillowes will discharge their Secrets:
2060 More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian:
God, God forgiue vs all. Looke after her,
Remoue from her the meanes of all annoyance,
And still keepe eyes vpon her: So goodnight,
My minde she ha's mated, and amaz'd my sight.
2065 I thinke, but dare not speake.
Gent.
Good night good Doctor.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
[Act 5, Scene 2]
Drum and Colours. Enter Menteth, Cathnes,
Angus, Lenox, Soldiers.
Angus, Lenox, Soldiers.
Ment.
The English powre is neere, led on by Malcolm,
His Vnkle Seyward, and the good Macduff.
Reuenges burne in them: for their deere causes
2070 Would to the bleeding, and the grim Alarme
Excite the mortified man.
Ang.
Neere Byrnan wood
Shall we well meet them, that way are they comming.
Cath.
Who knowes if Donalbane be with his brother?
Len.
2075 For certaine Sir, he is not: I haue a File
Of all the Gentry; there is Seywards Sonne,
And many vnruffe youths, that euen now
Protest their first of Manhood.
Ment.
What do's the Tyrant.
Cath.
2080 Great Dunsinane he strongly Fortifies:
Some say hee's mad: Others, that lesser hate him,
Do call it valiant Fury, but for certaine
He
[p. 149]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 149]](FFimg:axc0759-0.jpg){kind=link}
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Within the belt of Rule.
Ang.
2085 Now do's he feele
His secret Murthers sticking on his hands,
Now minutely Reuolts vpbraid his Faith‑breach:
Those he commands, moue onely in command,
Nothing in loue: Now do's he feele his Title
2090 Hang loose about him, like a Giants Robe
Vpon a dwarfish Theefe.
Ment.
Who then shall blame
His pester'd Senses to recoyle, and start,
When all that is within him, do's condemne
2095 It selfe, for being there.
Cath.
Well, march we on,
To giue Obedience, where 'tis truly ow'd:
Meet we the Med'cine of the sickly Weale,
And with him poure we in our Countries purge,
2100 Each drop of vs.
Lenox.
Or so much as it needes,
To dew the Soueraigne Flower, and drowne the Weeds:
Make we our March towards Birnan.
Exeunt marching.
Sc[…]na Tertia.
[Act 5, Scene 3]
Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.
Macb.
Bring me no more Reports, let them flye all:
2105 Till Byrnane wood remoue to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with Feare. What's the Boy Malcolme?
Was he not borne of woman? The Spirits that know
All mortall Consequences, haue pronounc'd me thus:
Feare not Macbeth, no man that's borne of woman
2110 Shall ere haue power vpon thee. Then fly false Thanes,
And mingle with the English Epicures,
The minde I sway by, and the heart I beare,
Shall neuer sagge with doubt, nor shake with feare.
Enter Seruant.
The diuell damne thee blacke, thou cream‑fac'd Loone:
2115 Where got'st thou that Goose‑looke.
Ser.
There is ten thousand.
Macb.
Geese Villaine?
Ser.
Souldiers Sir.
Macb.
Go pricke thy face, and ouer‑red thy feare
2120 Thou Lilly‑liuer'd Boy. What Soldiers, Patch?
Death of thy Soule, those Linnen cheekes of thine
Are Counsailers to feare. What Soldiers Whay‑face?
Ser.
The English Force, so please you.
Macb.
Take thy face hence. Seyton, I am sick at hart,
2125 When I behold: Seyton, I say, this push
Will cheere me euer, or dis‑eate me now.
I haue liu'd long enough: my way of life
Is falne into the Seare, the yellow Leafe,
And that which should accompany Old‑Age,
2130 As Honor, Loue, Obedience, Troopes of Friends,
I must not looke to haue: but in their steed,
Curses, not lowd but deepe, Mouth‑honor, breath
Which the poore heart would faine deny, and dare not.
Seyton?
Enter Seyton.
Sey.
2135 What's your gracious pleasure?
Macb.
What Newes more?
Sey.
All is confirm'd my Lord, which was reported.
Macb.
Ile fight, till from my bones, my flesh be hackt.
Giue me my Armor.
Seyt.
2140 'Tis not needed yet.
Macb.
Ile put it on:
Send out moe Horses, skirre the Country round,
Hang those that talke of Feare. Giue me mine Armor:
How do's your Patient, Doctor?
Doct.
2145 Not so sicke my Lord,
As she is troubled with thicke‑comming Fancies
That keepe her from her rest.
Macb.
Cure of that:
Can'st thou not Minister to a minde diseas'd,
2150 Plucke from the Memory a rooted Sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the Braine,
And with some sweet Obliuious Antidote
Cleanse the stufft bosome, of that perillous stuffe
Which weighes vpon the heart?
Doct.
2155 Therein the Patient
Must minister to himselfe.
Macb.
Throw Physicke to the Dogs, Ile none of it.
Come, put mine Armour on: giue me my Staffe:
Seyton, send out: Doctor, the Thanes flye from me:
2160 Come sir, dispatch. If thou could'st Doctor, cast
The Water of my Land, finde her Disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine Health,
I would applaud thee to the very Eccho,
That should applaud againe. Pull't off I say,
2165 What Rubarb, Cyme, or what Purgatiue drugge
Would scowre these English hence: hear'st yu of them?
Doct.
I my good Lord: your Royall Preparation
Makes vs heare something.
Macb.
Bring it after me:
2170 I will not be affraid of Death and Bane,
Till Birnane Forrest come to Dunsinane.
Doct.
Were I from Dunsinane away, and cleere,
Profit againe should hardly draw me heere.
Exeunt
Scena Quarta.
[Act 5, Scene 4]
Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe,
Seywards Sonne, Menteth, Cathnes, Angus,
and Soldiers Marching.
Seywards Sonne, Menteth, Cathnes, Angus,
and Soldiers Marching.
Malc.
Cosins, I hope the dayes are neere at hand
2175 That Chambers will be safe.
Ment.
We doubt it nothing.
Syew.
Seyw.
What wood is this before vs?
Ment.
The wood of Birnane.
Malc.
Let euery Souldier hew him downe a Bough,
2180 And bear't before him, thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our Hoast, and make discouery
Erre in report of vs.
Sold.
It shall be done.
Syw.
We learne no other, but the confident Tyrant
2185 Keepes still in Dunsinane, and will indure
Our setting downe befor't.
Malc.
'Tis his maine hope:
For where there is aduantage to be giuen,
Both more and lesse haue giuen him the Reuolt,
2190 And none serue with him, but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.
Macd.
Let our iust Censures
Attend the true euent, and put we on
nn3
Industrious
[p. 150]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 150]](FFimg:axc0760-0.jpg){kind=link}
Industrious Souldiership.
Sey.
2195 The time approaches,
That will with due decision make vs know
What we shall say we haue, and what we owe:
Thoughts speculatiue, their vnsure hopes relate,
But certaine issue, stroakes must arbitrate,
2200 Towards which, aduance the warre.
Exeunt marching.
Scena Quinta.
[Act 5, Scene 5]
Enter Macbeth, Seyton, & Souldiers, with
Drum and Colours.
Drum and Colours.
Macb.
Hang out our Banners on the outward walls,
The Cry is still, they come: our Castles strength
Will laugh a Siedge to scorne: Heere let them lye,
Till Famine and the Ague eate them vp:
2205 Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours,
We might haue met them darefull, beard to beard,
And beate them backward home. What is that noyse?
A Cry within of Women.
Sey.
It is the cry of women, my good Lord.
Macb.
I haue almost forgot the taste of Feares:
2210 The time ha's beene, my sences would haue cool'd
To heare a Night‑shrieke, and my Fell of haire
Would at a dismall Treatise rowze, and stirre
As life were in't. I haue supt full with horrors,
Direnesse familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
2215 Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry?
Sey.
The Queene (my Lord) is dead.
Macb.
She should haue dy'de heereafter;
There would haue beene a time for such a word:
To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow,
2220 Creepes in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last Syllable of Recorded time:
And all our yesterdayes, haue lighted Fooles
The way to dusty death. Out, out, breefe Candle,
Life's but a walking Shadow, a poore Player,
2225 That struts and frets his houre vpon the Stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a Tale
Told by an Ideot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.
Enter a Messenger.
Thou com'st to vse thy Tongue: thy Story quickly.
Mes.
2230 Gracious my Lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to doo't.
Macb.
Well, say sir.
Mes.
As I did stand my watch vpon the Hill
2235 I look'd toward Byrnane, and anon me thought
The Wood began to moue.
Macb.
Lyar, and Slaue.
Mes.
Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
Within this three Mile may you see it comming.
2240 I say, a mouing Groue.
Macb.
If thou speak'st fhlse false,
Vpon the next Tree shall thou hang aliue
Till Famine cling thee: If thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.
2245 I pull in Resolution, and begin
To doubt th'Equiuocation of the Fiend,
That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnane Wood
Do come to Dunsinane, and now a Wood
Comes toward Dunsinane. Arme, Arme, and out,
2250 If this which he auouches, do's appeare,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.
I 'ginne to be a‑weary of the Sun,
And wish th'estate o'th'world were now vndon.
Ring the Alarum Bell, blow Winde, come wracke,
2255 At least wee'l dye with Harnesse on our backe.
Exeunt
Scena Sexta.
[Act 5, Scene 6]
Drumme and Colours.
Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, and their Army,
with Boughes.
with Boughes.
Mal.
Now neere enough:
Your leauy Skreenes throw downe,
And shew like those you are: You (worthy Vnkle)
Shall with my Cosin your right Noble Sonne
2260 Leade our first Battell. Worthy Macduffe, and wee
Shall take vpon's what else remaines to do,
According to our order.
Sey.
Fare you well:
Do we but finde the Tyrants power to night,
2265 Let vs be beaten, if we cannot fight.
Macd.
Make all our Trumpets speak, giue them all breath
Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death.
Exeunt
Alarums continued.
Scena Septima.
[Act 5, Scene 7]
Enter Macbeth.
Macb.
They haue tied me to a stake, I cannot flye,
But Beare‑like I must fight the course. What's he
2270 That was not borne of Woman? Such a one
Am I to feare, or none.
Enter young Seyward.
Y. Sey.
What is thy name?
Macb.
Thou'lt be affraid to heare it.
Y. Sey.
No: though thou call'st thy selfe a hoter name
2275 Then any is in hell.
Macb.
My name's Macbeth.
Y. Sey.
The diuell himselfe could not pronounce a Title
More hatefull to mine eare.
Macb.
No: nor more fearefull.
Y. Sey.
2280 Thou lyest abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword
Ile proue the lye thou speak'st.
Fight, and young Seyward slaine.
Macb.
Thou was't borne of woman;
But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorne,
Brandish'd by man that's of a Woman borne.
Exit.
Alarums. Enter Macduffe.
Macd.
2285 That way the noise is: Tyrant shew thy face,
If thou beest slaine, and with no stroake of mine,
My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me still:
I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose armes
Are hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth,
2290 Or else my Sword with an vnbattered edge
I sheath againe vndeeded. There thou should'st be,
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seemes
[p. 151]
The Tragedie of Macbeth.
![[p. 151]](FFimg:axc0761-0.jpg){kind=link}
Seemes bruited. Let me finde him Fortune,
And more I begge not.
Exit.
Alarums.
Enter Malcolme and Seyward.
Sey.
2295 This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred:
The Tyrants people, on both sides do fight,
The Noble Thanes do brauely in the Warre,
The day almost it selfe professes yours,
And little is to do.
Malc.
2300 We haue met with Foes
That strike beside vs.
Sey.
Enter Sir, the Castle.
Exeunt.
[Act 5, Scene 8]
Alarum
Enter Macbeth.
Macb.
Why should I play the Roman Foole, and dye
On mine owne sword? whiles I see liues, the gashes
2305 Do better vpon them.
Enter Macduffe.
Macd.
Turne Hell‑hound, turne.
Macb.
Of all men else I haue auoyded thee:
But get thee backe, my soule is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already.
Macd.
2310 I haue no words,
My voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villaine
Then tearmes can giue thee out.
Fight: Alarum
Macb.
Thou loosest labour,
As easie may'st thou the intrenchant Ayre
2315 With thy keene Sword impresse, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Crests,
I beare a charmed Life, which must not yeeld
To one of woman borne.
Macd.
Dispaire thy Charme,
2320 And let the Angell whom thou still hast seru'd
Tell thee, Macduffe was from his Mothers womb
Vntimely ript.
Macb.
Accursed be that tongue that tels mee so;
For it hath Cow'd my better part of man:
2325 And be these Iugling Fiends no more beleeu'd,
That palter with vs in a double sence,
That keepe the word of promise to our eare,
And breake it to our hope. Ile not fight with thee.
Macd.
Then yeeld thee Coward,
2330 And liue to be the shew, and gaze o'th'time.
Wee'l haue thee, as our rarer Monsters are
Painted vpon a pole, and vnder‑writ,
Heere may you see the Tyrant.
Macb.
I will not yeeld
2335 To kisse the ground before young Malcolmes feet,
And to be baited with the Rabbles curse.
Though Byrnane wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman borne,
Yet I will try the last. Before my body,
2340 I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on Macduffe,
And damn'd be him, that first cries hold, enough.
Exeunt fighting. Alarums.
Enter Fighting, and Macbeth slaine.
Retreat, and Flourish. Enter with Drumme and Colours,
Malcolm, Seyward, Rosse, Thanes, & Soldiers.
Malcolm, Seyward, Rosse, Thanes, & Soldiers.
Mal.
I would the Friends we misse, were safe arriu'd.
Sey.
Some must go off: and yet by these I see,
So great a day as this is cheapely bought.
Mal.
2345 Macduffe is missing, and your Noble Sonne.
Rosse.
Your son my Lord, ha's paid a souldiers debt,
He onely liu'd but till he was a man,
The which no sooner had his Prowesse confirm'd
In the vnshrinking station where he fought,
2350 But like a man he dy'de.
Sey.
Then he is dead?
Rosse.
I, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end.
Sey.
2355 Had he his hurts before?
Rosse.
I, on the Front.
Sey.
Why then, Gods Soldier be he:
Had I as many Sonnes, as I haue haires,
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
2360 And so his Knell is knoll'd.
Mal.
Hee's worth more sorrow,
And that Ile spend for him.
Sey.
He's worth no more,
They say he parted well, and paid his score,
2365 And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort.
Enter Macduffe, with Macbeths head.
Macd.
Haile King, for so thou art.
Behold where stands
Th'Vsurpers cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compast with thy Kingdomes Pearle,
2370 That speake my salutation in their minds:
Whose voyces I desire alowd with mine.
Haile King of Scotland.
All.
Haile King of Scotland.
Flourish.
Mal.
We shall not spend a large expence of time,
2375 Before we reckon with your seuerall loues,
And make vs euen with you. My Thanes and Kinsmen
Henceforth be Earles, the first that euer Scotland
In such an Honor nam'd: What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,
2380 As calling home our exil'd Friends abroad,
That fled the Snares of watchfull Tyranny,
Producing forth the cruell Ministers
Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend‑like Queene;
Who (as 'tis thought) by selfe and violent hands,
2385 Tooke off her life. This, and what needfull else
That call's vpon vs, by the Grace of Grace,
We will performe in measure, time, and place:
So thankes to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we inuite, to see vs Crown'd at Scone.
Flourish.
Exeunt omnes.
Macbeth usurp'd the Crown of Scotland about the Reign of Edward the Confessor — 1042.
FINIS.