The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

Meet me i'the morning: thither be
Will come to know his destiny.
Your vessels and your spells provide,
Your charms and every thing beside:
I am for the air; this night I'll spend
Unto a dismal-fatal end.

Great business must be wrought ere noon:
Upon the corner of the moon

There hangs a vaporous drop profound : *
I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
And that, distill'd by magic slights
Shall raise such artificial sprights,
As, by the strength of their illusion
Shall draw him on to his confusion:
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear :
And you all know, security

Is mortal's chiefest enemy.

Song. [Within.] Come away, come away, &c. Hark, I am call'd; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.

[Erit.

Was pitied of Macbeth :-marry, he was dead :And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late; Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleance kill'd,

For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous h was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain,

To kill their gracious father? damned fact ! How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight, In pious rage, the two delinquents tear,

That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep?

Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too; For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive, To hear the men deny it. So that, I say, He has borne all things well: and I do think, That, had he Duncan's sons under his key, (As, an't please heaven, he shall not,) they should find

What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. But, peace-for from broad words, and cause

he fail'd

His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear,
Macduff lives in disgrace: Sir, can you tell
Where he bestows himself?

Lord. The son of Duncan,

From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth
Lives in the English court; and is receiv'd
Of the most pious Edward with such grace,
That the malevolence of fortune nothing
Takes from his high respect : Thither Macduff
Is gone to pray the holy king, on his aid
To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward:
That, by the help of these, (with Him above
To ratify the work,) we may again

Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights;
Free from our feasts and banquets bloody

knives;

Do faithful homage, and receive free honours, t All which we pine for now: And this report Hath so exasperate the king, that he

Prepares for some attempt of war.

Len. Sent he to Macduff?

SCENE I.-A dark Cave.-In the middle, a Cauldron boiling.

Thunder. Enter the three WITCHES.

1 Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. 2 Witch. Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin'd.

3 Wich. Harper cries :-'Tis time, 'tis time.
1 Witch. Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.-
Toad, that under coldest stone,
Days and nights hast thirty-one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i'the charmed pot!

All. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble.

2 Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake :
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

All. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble.

3 Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf;
Witches' mummy; maw and gulf, †
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark;
Root of hemlock, digg'd i'the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat and slips of yew,
Silver'd in the moon's eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe,
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab :
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron, $
For the ingredients of our cauldron.

All. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble.

2 Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood, Then the charm is firm and good.

Enter HECATE, and the other three
WITCHES.
I commend your

Hec. Oh well done!
pains ;

And every one shall share i'the gains.
And now about the cauldron sing,
Like elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.

SONG.

Black spirits and white,
Red spirits and grey;
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may.

2 Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs,

Lord. He did and with an absolute, Sir, Something wicked this way comes:-

not I,

The cloudy messenger turns me his back,

I. e. A drop that has deep or hidden qualities.
Honours freely bostowed.
For exasperated.

Open, locks, whoever knocks.

Enter MACBETH.

Macb. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags?

What is't you do?

All. A deed without a name.

Macb. I conjure you, by that which you profess,

(Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me : Though you untie the winds, and let them fight Against the churches; though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up;

Though bladed corn be lodg'd, † and trees blown down;

Though castles topple on their warders' heads;

Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations; though the
treasure

Of nature's germins § tumble all together,
Even till destruction sicken, answer me

To what I ask you.

1 Witch. Speak.

2 Witch. Demand.

3 Witch. We'll answer.

Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him.

[Descends.

Macb. That will never be;
Who can impress the forest; bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? sweet bodement ?
good!

Rebellious head, rise never, till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high plac'd Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time and mortal custom.-Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing; Tell me, (if your
art

Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?

All. Seek to know no more.

Macb. I will be satisfied: deny me this, And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know :

Why sinks that cauldron ? and what noise + is [Hautboys.

this?

1 Witch. Show! 2 Witch. Show! 3 Witch. Show!

1 Witch. Say, if thoud'st rather bear it from Come like shadows, so depart.

All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;

our mouths,

Or from our masters'?

Macb. Call them, let me see them.

1 Witch. Pour in sow's blood, that hath
eaten

Her nine farrow; grease, that's sweaten
From the murderer's gibbet, throw
Into the flame.

All. Come, high, or low;

Thyself, and office, aeftly show.

Thunder. An APPARITION of an Armed Head rises.

Eight Kings appear, and puss over the Stage in order; the last with a Glass in his hand; BANQuo following.

Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down!

Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls :-And thy hair,

Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first :-
A third is like the former :-Filthy hags!
Why do you show me this ?-A fourth-Start,
eyes!

What! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?

Another yet?-A seventh ?-1'll see no more :-
Which shows ine many more; and some I see,
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry :
Horrible sight !-Ay, now, I see 'tis true;
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon
And points at them for his.-What, is this so?
1 Witch. Ay, Sir, all this is so :-But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly ?-
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights,
And show the best of our delights;
I'll charm the air to give a sound,

me,

Thunder.-An APPARITION of a Bloody Child While you perform the antique round:

rises.

App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!-
Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee.
App. Be bloody, bold,

And resolute laugh to scorn the power of man,

For none of woman boru shall harm Macbeth. [Descends.

Macb. Then live, Macduff; What need I fear of thee?

But yet I'll make assurance double sure
And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lies,
And sleep in spite of thunder.-What is this,
Thunder.-AnAPPARITION of a Child Crowned,
with a Tree in his Hand, rises.

That rises like the issue of a king;
And wears upon his baby brow the round
And top of sovereignty? **

All. Listen, but speak not.

App. Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no

That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.

[Music. The WITCHES dance, and vanish. Macb. Where are they? Gone ?-Let this per

nicious hour

Stand aye accursed in the calender!— Come in, without there!

The flighty purpose never is o'ertook,
Unless the deed go with it: From this moment,
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And even now

To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:

The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o'the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace his line. No boasting like a fool;
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool:
But no more sights!-Where are these gentle-
men ?

Come, bring me where they are.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lady MACDUFF, her SON, and Rosse. L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the land ?

Rosse. You must have patience, madam.
L. Macd. He had none :

His flight was madness: When our actions do not,

Our fears do make us traitors. +

Rosse. You know not,

Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.

L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,

His mansion, and his titles, in a place
From whence himself does fly? He loves us

not;

He wants the natural touch for the poor wren
The most diminutive of birds, will fight, g
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All is the fear, and nothing is the love;
As little is the wisdom, where the flight

So runs against all reason.

Rosse. My dearest coz,

I pray you, school yourself: But, for your hus-I

band,

He is noble, wise, judicions, and best knows

Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband f L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.

Son Then you'll buy 'em to sell again. L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet i'faith,

With wit enough for thee.

Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?
L. Macd. Ay, that he was.
Son. What is a traitor?

L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.
Son. And be all traitors, that do so?

L. Macd. Every one that does so, is a traitor, and must be hanged.

Son. And must they all be hanged, that swear and lie?

L. Macd. Every one.

Son. Who must hang them?

L. Macd. Why, the honest men.

Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools: for there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men, and hang up thein.

L. Macd. Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that 1 should quickly have a new father.

L. Macd. Poor prattler! how thou talk'st.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,

Though in your state of honour I am perfect. †
I doubt some danger does approach you nearly :
If you would take a homely inan's advice,
Be not found here; hence, with your little

dare abide no longer.

[Exit MESSENGER.

L. Macd. Whither should I fly?

I have done no harm. But I remember now

The fits o'the season. I dare not speak much! am in this earthy world; where, to do harm,

further :

But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,
And do not know ourselves; when we hold

But float upon a wild and violent sea,
Each way, and move.-I take my leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be here again:

Things at the worst will cease, or else climb

upward

To what they were before.-My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!

Is often laudable; to do good, sometime,
Accounted dangerous folly: Why then, alas!
Do I put up that womanly defence,

To say I have done no harm ?-What are these faces ?

Enter MURDERERS.

Mur. Where is your husband?

L. Macd. I hope in no place so unsanctified, Where such as thou may'sť find him.

Mur. He's a traitor.

Son. Thou ly'st, thou shag-ear'd villain.
Mur. What, you egg?

L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's father-Young fry of treachery?

It would be any disgrace, and your discomfort :
I take my leave at once.
[Exit Rosse.

L. Macd. Sirrah, || your father's dead;
And what will you do now? How will you
live?

Son. As birds do, mother.

L. Macd. What, with worms and flies?
Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do
they.

L. Macd. Poor bird! thoud'st never fear the
net, nor lime,

The pit-fall nor the gin.

Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they

L. Macd. Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds for a father?

new

What know, believe; and, what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
What you have spoke, it may be so; perchance,
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our
tongues,

Was once thought honest: you have lov'd him
well;

He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but something

You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom

To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,

To appease an angry god.

Macd. I am not treacherous.

Mal. But Macbeth is.

A good and virtuous nature may recoil,

In an imperial charge.

don;

But 'crave your par

In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
The untimely emptying of the happy throne,
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours: you may
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet seem cold, the time you may so hood-
wink.

We have willing dames enough; there cannot be
That vulture in you to devour so many,
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so iucliu'd.

Mal. With this, there grows,

In my most ill-compos'd affection, such
A stanchless avarice, that, were I king,

I should cut off the nobles for their lands:
Desire his jewels, and this other's house:
And my more having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more; that I should forge

That which you are, my thoughts cannot trans-Quarrels unjust against the good, and loyal,

you.

I speak not as in an absolute fear of
I think, our country sinks beneath the yoke;
It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds: I think, withal,
There would be hands uplifted in my right:
And here, from gracious England, have I offer
Of goodly thousands: But, for all this,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before;
More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed.

Macb. What should he be?

Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I know
All the particulars of vice so grafted,
That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state
Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd
With my confineless harms.

Macd. Not in the legions

Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd
In evils to top Macheth.

Mal. I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin
That bas a name: But there's no bottom, none,
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daugh-
ters,

Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up
The cistern of my lust; and my desire
All continent impediments would o'er-bear,
That did oppose my will: Better Macbeth,
Than such a one to reign.

Macd. Boundless intemperance

Destroying them for wealth.

Macd. This avarice

Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeding lust: and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings: Yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foysons to fill up your will,
Of your mere own: All these are portable, †
With other graces weigh'd.

Mal. But I have none: The king-becoming
graces,

As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them; but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had 1 power,

should

Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.

Macd. O Scotland! Scotland !

Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak :

I am as I have spoken.

Macd. Fit to govern!

No, not to live.-O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,

When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?

Since that the truest issue of thy throne

By his own interdiction stands accurs'd,

And does blaspheme his breed ?-Thy royal

father.

Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore
thee

Oftner upon her knees than on her feet,
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself,
Have banish'd me from Scotland.-0
breast,

Thy hope ends here!

Mal. Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wip'd the back scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Mac-
beth

By many of these trains hathg sought to win me
Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous haste: But God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now
I put myself to thy direction, and
Unspeak mine own detraction: here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman; never was forsworn;
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own;
At no time broke my faith; would not betray
The devil to his fellow; and delight

No less in truth than life: my first false speak-
ing

Was this upon myself: What I am truly,
Is thine and my poor country's, to command
Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach,
Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
All ready at a point, was setting forth:

Now we'll together: And the chance of good-| For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot :

ness

Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent? Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once,

'Tis hard to reconcile.

Enter a DOCTOR.

Mal. Well; more anon.-Comes the king forth, I pray you?

Doct. Ay, Sir: there are a crew of wretched souls,

That stay his cure their malady convinces •
The great assay of art: but, at his touch,
Such sanctity hath heaven given his haud,
They presently amend.

Mal. I thank you, doctor.

[Exit DOCTOR. Macd. What is the disease he means? Mal. 'Tis call'd the evil :

A most miraculous work in this good king; Which often, since my here-remain in England,

I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, Himself best knows : but strangely-visited people,

All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures ;
Hanging a golden stamp + about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves

The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,

He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy;
And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.

Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, make our women fight, To doff their dire distresses.

Mal. Be it their comfort,

We are coming thither; gracious England hath
Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men ;
An older and a better soldier none
That Christendom gives out.

Rosse. 'Would I could answer
This comfort with the like! But I have words,
That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
Where hearing should not latch † them.
Macd. What concern they?

The general cause? or is it a fee-grief, t
Due to some single breast?

Rosse. No mind, that's honest,

But in it shares some woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone.

Macd. If it be mine,

Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue [sound,

for ever,

Which shall possess them with the heaviest That ever yet they heard.

Macd. Humph! I guess at it.

Rosse. Your castle is surpriz'd: your wife, and babes,

Savagely slaughter'd to relate the manner, Were, on the quarry § of these murder'd deer, To add the death of you.

Mal. Merciful heaven!

What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not

speak,

Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.

Macd. My children too?

Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all That could be found.

Macd. And I must be from thence I My wife kill'd too?

Rosse. I have said.

Mal. Be comforted;

Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief,

Macd. He has no children.--All my pretty ones?

Did you say, all ?-O hell-kite !-All?
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell swoop?

Mal. Dispute it like a man.
Macd. I shall do so;

But I must also feel it as a man:

I cannot but remember such things were,
That were mot precious to ine.-Did heaven

look on,

most

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 10