Macbeth: Entire Play

Quick link to last speech

### ACT I

### SCENE I. A desert place.

> Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches

First Witch

> When shall we three meet again
> In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

Second Witch

> When the hurlyburly's done,
> When the battle's lost and won.

Third Witch

> That will be ere the set of sun.

First Witch

> Where the place?

Second Witch

> Upon the heath.

Third Witch

> There to meet with Macbeth.

First Witch

> I come, Graymalkin!

Second Witch

> Paddock calls.

Third Witch

> Anon.

ALL

> Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
> Hover through the fog and filthy air.

> Exeunt

### SCENE II. A camp near Forres.

> Alarum within. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant

DUNCAN

> What bloody man is that? He can report,
> As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
> The newest state.

MALCOLM

> This is the sergeant
> Who like a good and hardy soldier fought
> 'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend!
> Say to the king the knowledge of the broil
> As thou didst leave it.

Sergeant

> Doubtful it stood;
> As two spent swimmers, that do cling together
> And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald--
> Worthy to be a rebel, for to that
> The multiplying villanies of nature
> Do swarm upon him--from the western isles
> Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied;
> And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,
> Show'd like a rebel's whore: but all's too weak:
> For brave Macbeth--well he deserves that name--
> Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,
> Which smoked with bloody execution,
> Like valour's minion carved out his passage
> Till he faced the slave;
> Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
> Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,
> And fix'd his head upon our battlements.

DUNCAN

> O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!

Sergeant

> As whence the sun 'gins his reflection
> Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break,
> So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come
> Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark:
> No sooner justice had with valour arm'd
> Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels,
> But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage,
> With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men
> Began a fresh assault.

DUNCAN

> Dismay'd not this
> Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?

Sergeant

> Yes;
> As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.
> If I say sooth, I must report they were
> As cannons overcharged with double cracks, so they
> Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe:
> Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
> Or memorise another Golgotha,
> I cannot tell.
> But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.

DUNCAN

> So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;
> They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons.

> Exit Sergeant, attended

> Who comes here?

> Enter ROSS

MALCOLM

> The worthy thane of Ross.

LENNOX

> What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look
> That seems to speak things strange.

ROSS

> God save the king!

DUNCAN

> Whence camest thou, worthy thane?

ROSS

> From Fife, great king;
> Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky
> And fan our people cold. Norway himself,
> With terrible numbers,
> Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
> The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;
> Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,
> Confronted him with self-comparisons,
> Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm.
> Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,
> The victory fell on us.

DUNCAN

> Great happiness!

ROSS

> That now
> Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition:
> Nor would we deign him burial of his men
> Till he disbursed at Saint Colme's inch
> Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

DUNCAN

> No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
> Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death,
> And with his former title greet Macbeth.

ROSS

> I'll see it done.

DUNCAN

> What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.

> Exeunt

### SCENE III. A heath near Forres.

> Thunder. Enter the three Witches

First Witch

> Where hast thou been, sister?

Second Witch

> Killing swine.

Third Witch

> Sister, where thou?

First Witch

> A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
> And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd:--
> 'Give me,' quoth I:
> 'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries.
> Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:
> But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
> And, like a rat without a tail,
> I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.

Second Witch

> I'll give thee a wind.

First Witch

> Thou'rt kind.

Third Witch

> And I another.

First Witch

> I myself have all the other,
> And the very ports they blow,
> All the quarters that they know
> I' the shipman's card.
> I will drain him dry as hay:
> Sleep shall neither night nor day
> Hang upon his pent-house lid;
> He shall live a man forbid:
> Weary se'nnights nine times nine
> Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:
> Though his bark cannot be lost,
> Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
> Look what I have.

Second Witch

> Show me, show me.

First Witch

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

> Drum within

Third Witch

> A drum, a drum!
> Macbeth doth come.

ALL

> The weird sisters, hand in hand,
> Posters of the sea and land,
> Thus do go about, about:
> Thrice to thine and thrice to mine
> And thrice again, to make up nine.
> Peace! the charm's wound up.

> Enter MACBETH and BANQUO

MACBETH

> So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

BANQUO

> How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these
> So wither'd and so wild in their attire,
> That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
> And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught
> That man may question? You seem to understand me,
> By each at once her chappy finger laying
> Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,
> And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
> That you are so.

MACBETH

> Speak, if you can: what are you?

First Witch

> All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!

Second Witch

> All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!

Third Witch

> All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter!

BANQUO

> Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
> Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth,
> Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
> Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
> You greet with present grace and great prediction
> Of noble having and of royal hope,
> That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not.
> If you can look into the seeds of time,
> And say which grain will grow and which will not,
> Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
> Your favours nor your hate.

First Witch

> Hail!

Second Witch

> Hail!

Third Witch

> Hail!

First Witch

> Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.

Second Witch

> Not so happy, yet much happier.

Third Witch

> Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:
> So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!

First Witch

> Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!

MACBETH

> Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
> By Sinel's death I know I am thane of Glamis;
> But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
> A prosperous gentleman; and to be king
> Stands not within the prospect of belief,
> No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
> You owe this strange intelligence? or why
> Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
> With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.

> Witches vanish

BANQUO

> The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
> And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?

MACBETH

> Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted
> As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!

BANQUO

> Were such things here as we do speak about?
> Or have we eaten on the insane root
> That takes the reason prisoner?

MACBETH

> Your children shall be kings.

BANQUO

> You shall be king.

MACBETH

> And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?

BANQUO

> To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here?

> Enter ROSS and ANGUS

ROSS

> The king hath happily received, Macbeth,
> The news of thy success; and when he reads
> Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
> His wonders and his praises do contend
> Which should be thine or his: silenced with that,
> In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day,
> He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
> Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
> Strange images of death. As thick as hail
> Came post with post; and every one did bear
> Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
> And pour'd them down before him.

ANGUS

> We are sent
> To give thee from our royal master thanks;
> Only to herald thee into his sight,
> Not pay thee.

ROSS

> And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
> He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:
> In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
> For it is thine.

BANQUO

> What, can the devil speak true?

MACBETH

> The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
> In borrow'd robes?

ANGUS

> Who was the thane lives yet;
> But under heavy judgment bears that life
> Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined
> With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
> With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
> He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
> But treasons capital, confess'd and proved,
> Have overthrown him.

MACBETH

> [Aside] Glamis, and thane of Cawdor!
> The greatest is behind.

> To ROSS and ANGUS

> Thanks for your pains.

> To BANQUO

> Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
> When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me
> Promised no less to them?

BANQUO

> That trusted home
> Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
> Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
> And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
> The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
> Win us with honest trifles, to betray's
> In deepest consequence.
> Cousins, a word, I pray you.

MACBETH

> [Aside] Two truths are told,
> As happy prologues to the swelling act
> Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen.

> Aside

> Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,
> Why hath it given me earnest of success,
> Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
> If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
> Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
> And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
> Against the use of nature? Present fears
> Are less than horrible imaginings:
> My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
> Shakes so my single state of man that function
> Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
> But what is not.

BANQUO

> Look, how our partner's rapt.

MACBETH

> [Aside] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
> Without my stir.

BANQUO

> New horrors come upon him,
> Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
> But with the aid of use.

MACBETH

> [Aside] Come what come may,
> Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

BANQUO

> Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

MACBETH

> Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought
> With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
> Are register'd where every day I turn
> The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.
> Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time,
> The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
> Our free hearts each to other.

BANQUO

> Very gladly.

MACBETH

> Till then, enough. Come, friends.

> Exeunt

### SCENE IV. Forres. The palace.

> Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, and Attendants

DUNCAN

> Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not
> Those in commission yet return'd?

MALCOLM

> My liege,
> They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
> With one that saw him die: who did report
> That very frankly he confess'd his treasons,
> Implored your highness' pardon and set forth
> A deep repentance: nothing in his life
> Became him like the leaving it; he died
> As one that had been studied in his death
> To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
> As 'twere a careless trifle.

DUNCAN

> There's no art
> To find the mind's construction in the face:
> He was a gentleman on whom I built
> An absolute trust.

> Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, ROSS, and ANGUS

> O worthiest cousin!
> The sin of my ingratitude even now
> Was heavy on me: thou art so far before
> That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
> To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved,
> That the proportion both of thanks and payment
> Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
> More is thy due than more than all can pay.

MACBETH

> The service and the loyalty I owe,
> In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
> Is to receive our duties; and our duties
> Are to your throne and state children and servants,
> Which do but what they should, by doing every thing
> Safe toward your love and honour.

DUNCAN

> Welcome hither:
> I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
> To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
> That hast no less deserved, nor must be known
> No less to have done so, let me enfold thee
> And hold thee to my heart.

BANQUO

> There if I grow,
> The harvest is your own.

DUNCAN

> My plenteous joys,
> Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
> In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes,
> And you whose places are the nearest, know
> We will establish our estate upon
> Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter
> The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must
> Not unaccompanied invest him only,
> But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
> On all deservers. From hence to Inverness,
> And bind us further to you.

MACBETH

> The rest is labour, which is not used for you:
> I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful
> The hearing of my wife with your approach;
> So humbly take my leave.

DUNCAN

> My worthy Cawdor!

MACBETH

> [Aside] The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step
> On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap,
> For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires;
> Let not light see my black and deep desires:
> The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be,
> Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.

> Exit

DUNCAN

> 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 us welcome:
> It is a peerless kinsman.

> Flourish. Exeunt

### SCENE V. Inverness. Macbeth's castle.

> Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a letter

LADY MACBETH

> 'They met me in the day of success: and I have
> learned by the perfectest report, they have more in
> them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire
> to question them further, they made themselves air,
> into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in
> the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who
> all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title,
> before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred
> me to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king that
> shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver
> thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou
> mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being
> ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it
> to thy heart, and farewell.'
> Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be
> What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature;
> It is too full o' the milk of human kindness
> To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great;
> Art not without ambition, but without
> The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly,
> That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
> And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'ldst have, great Glamis,
> That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it;
> And that which rather thou dost fear to do
> Than wishest should be undone.' Hie thee hither,
> That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;
> And chastise with the valour of my tongue
> All that impedes thee from the golden round,
> Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem
> To have thee crown'd withal.

> Enter a Messenger

> What is your tidings?

Messenger

> The king comes here to-night.

LADY MACBETH

> Thou'rt mad to say it:
> Is not thy master with him? who, were't so,
> Would have inform'd for preparation.

Messenger

> So please you, it is true: our thane is coming:
> One of my fellows had the speed of him,
> Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
> Than would make up his message.

LADY MACBETH

> Give him tending;
> He brings great news.

> Exit Messenger

> The raven himself is hoarse
> That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
> Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
> That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
> And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
> Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;
> Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
> That no compunctious visitings of nature
> Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
> The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
> And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
> Wherever in your sightless substances
> You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
> And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
> That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
> Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
> To cry 'Hold, hold!'

> Enter MACBETH

> Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor!
> Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!
> Thy letters have transported me beyond
> This ignorant present, and I feel now
> The future in the instant.

MACBETH

> My dearest love,
> Duncan comes here to-night.

LADY MACBETH

> And when goes hence?

MACBETH

> To-morrow, as he purposes.

LADY MACBETH

> O, never
> Shall sun that morrow see!
> Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
> May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
> Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
> Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
> But be the serpent under't. He that's coming
> Must be provided for: and you shall put
> This night's great business into my dispatch;
> Which shall to all our nights and days to come
> Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.

MACBETH

> We will speak further.

LADY MACBETH

> Only look up clear;
> To alter favour ever is to fear:
> Leave all the rest to me.

> Exeunt

### SCENE VI. Before Macbeth's castle.

> Hautboys and torches. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, BANQUO, LENNOX, MACDUFF, ROSS, ANGUS, and Attendants

DUNCAN

> This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
> Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
> Unto our gentle senses.

BANQUO

> This guest of summer,
> The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,
> By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath
> Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,
> Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
> Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:
> Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,
> The air is delicate.

> Enter LADY MACBETH

DUNCAN

> See, see, our honour'd hostess!
> The love that follows us sometime is our trouble,
> Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you
> How you shall bid God 'ild us for your pains,
> And thank us for your trouble.

LADY MACBETH

> All our service
> In every point twice done and then done double
> Were poor and single business to contend
> Against those honours deep and broad wherewith
> Your majesty loads our house: for those of old,
> And the late dignities heap'd up to them,
> We rest your hermits.

DUNCAN

> Where's the thane of Cawdor?
> We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose
> To be his purveyor: but he rides well;
> And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him
> To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess,
> We are your guest to-night.

LADY MACBETH

> Your servants ever
> Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt,
> To make their audit at your highness' pleasure,
> Still to return your own.

DUNCAN

> Give me your hand;
> Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly,
> And shall continue our graces towards him.
> By your leave, hostess.

> Exeunt

### SCENE VII. Macbeth's castle.

> Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers Servants with dishes and service, and pass over the stage. Then enter MACBETH

MACBETH

> If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well
> It were done quickly: if the assassination
> Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
> With his surcease success; that but this blow
> Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
> But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
> We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases
> We still have judgment here; that we but teach
> Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
> To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice
> Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
> To our own lips. He's here in double trust;
> First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
> Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,
> Who should against his murderer shut the door,
> Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
> Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
> So clear in his great office, that his virtues
> Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
> The deep damnation of his taking-off;
> And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
> Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
> Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
> Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
> That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
> To prick the sides of my intent, but only
> Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
> And falls on the other.

> Enter LADY MACBETH

> How now! what news?

LADY MACBETH

> He has almost supp'd: why have you left the chamber?

MACBETH

> Hath he ask'd for me?

LADY MACBETH

> Know you not he has?

MACBETH

> We will proceed no further in this business:
> He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought
> Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
> Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
> Not cast aside so soon.

LADY MACBETH

> Was the hope drunk
> Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since?
> And wakes it now, to look so green and pale
> At what it did so freely? From this time
> Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard
> To be the same in thine own act and valour
> As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that
> Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,
> And live a coward in thine own esteem,
> Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,'
> Like the poor cat i' the adage?

MACBETH

> Prithee, peace:
> I dare do all that may become a man;
> Who dares do more is none.

LADY MACBETH

> What beast was't, then,
> That made you break this enterprise to me?
> When you durst do it, then you were a man;
> And, to be more than what you were, you would
> Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place
> Did then adhere, and yet you would make both:
> They have made themselves, and that their fitness now
> Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know
> How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me:
> I would, while it was smiling in my face,
> Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
> And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you
> Have done to this.

MACBETH

> If we should fail?

LADY MACBETH

> We fail!
> But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
> And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep--
> Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey
> Soundly invite him--his two chamberlains
> Will I with wine and wassail so convince
> That memory, the warder of the brain,
> Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
> A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep
> Their drenched natures lie as in a death,
> What cannot you and I perform upon
> The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
> His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt
> Of our great quell?

MACBETH

> Bring forth men-children only;
> For thy undaunted mettle should compose
> Nothing but males. Will it not be received,
> When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
> Of his own chamber and used their very daggers,
> That they have done't?

LADY MACBETH

> Who dares receive it other,
> As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
> Upon his death?

MACBETH

> I am settled, and bend up
> Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
> Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
> False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

> Exeunt

### ACT II

### SCENE I. Court of Macbeth's castle.

> Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE bearing a torch before him

BANQUO

> How goes the night, boy?

FLEANCE

> The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.

BANQUO

> And she goes down at twelve.

FLEANCE

> I take't, 'tis later, sir.

BANQUO

> Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven;
> Their candles are all out. Take thee that too.
> A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
> And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers,
> Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
> Gives way to in repose!

> Enter MACBETH, and a Servant with a torch

> Give me my sword.
> Who's there?

MACBETH

> A friend.

BANQUO

> What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's a-bed:
> He hath been in unusual pleasure, and
> Sent forth great largess to your offices.
> This diamond he greets your wife withal,
> By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up
> In measureless content.

MACBETH

> Being unprepared,
> Our will became the servant to defect;
> Which else should free have wrought.

BANQUO

> All's well.
> I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:
> To you they have show'd some truth.

MACBETH

> I think not of them:
> Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,
> We would spend it in some words upon that business,
> If you would grant the time.

BANQUO

> At your kind'st leisure.

MACBETH

> If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis,
> It shall make honour for you.

BANQUO

> So I lose none
> In seeking to augment it, but still keep
> My bosom franchised and allegiance clear,
> I shall be counsell'd.

MACBETH

> Good repose the while!

BANQUO

> Thanks, sir: the like to you!

> Exeunt BANQUO and FLEANCE

MACBETH

> Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
> She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.

> Exit Servant

> Is this a dagger which I see before me,
> The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
> I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
> Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
> To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
> A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
> Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
> I see thee yet, in form as palpable
> As this which now I draw.
> Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
> And such an instrument I was to use.
> Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
> Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
> And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
> Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
> It is the bloody business which informs
> Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one halfworld
> Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
> The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
> Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,
> Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
> Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace.
> With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
> Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
> Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
> Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
> And take the present horror from the time,
> Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives:
> Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.

> A bell rings

> I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
> Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
> That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

> Exit

### SCENE II. The same.

> Enter LADY MACBETH

LADY MACBETH

> That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold;
> What hath quench'd them hath given me fire.
> Hark! Peace!
> It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,
> Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it:
> The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms
> Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd
> their possets,
> That death and nature do contend about them,
> Whether they live or die.

MACBETH

> [Within] Who's there? what, ho!

LADY MACBETH

> Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,
> And 'tis not done. The attempt and not the deed
> Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready;
> He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled
> My father as he slept, I had done't.

> Enter MACBETH

> My husband!

MACBETH

> I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?

LADY MACBETH

> I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.
> Did not you speak?

MACBETH

> When?

LADY MACBETH

> Now.

MACBETH

> As I descended?

LADY MACBETH

> Ay.

MACBETH

> Hark!
> Who lies i' the second chamber?

LADY MACBETH

> Donalbain.

MACBETH

> This is a sorry sight.

> Looking on his hands

LADY MACBETH

> A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

MACBETH

> There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried
> 'Murder!'
> That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them:
> But they did say their prayers, and address'd them
> Again to sleep.

LADY MACBETH

> There are two lodged together.

MACBETH

> One cried 'God bless us!' and 'Amen' the other;
> As they had seen me with these hangman's hands.
> Listening their fear, I could not say 'Amen,'
> When they did say 'God bless us!'

LADY MACBETH

> Consider it not so deeply.

MACBETH

> But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'?
> I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen'
> Stuck in my throat.

LADY MACBETH

> These deeds must not be thought
> After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

MACBETH

> Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more!
> Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep,
> Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care,
> The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
> Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
> Chief nourisher in life's feast,--

LADY MACBETH

> What do you mean?

MACBETH

> Still it cried 'Sleep no more!' to all the house:
> 'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor
> Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.'

LADY MACBETH

> Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,
> You do unbend your noble strength, to think
> So brainsickly of things. Go get some water,
> And wash this filthy witness from your hand.
> Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
> They must lie there: go carry them; and smear
> The sleepy grooms with blood.

MACBETH

> I'll go no more:
> I am afraid to think what I have done;
> Look on't again I dare not.

LADY MACBETH

> Infirm of purpose!
> Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead
> Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood
> That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
> I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal;
> For it must seem their guilt.

> Exit. Knocking within

MACBETH

> Whence is that knocking?
> How is't with me, when every noise appals me?
> What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes.
> Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
> Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
> The multitudinous seas in incarnadine,
> Making the green one red.

> Re-enter LADY MACBETH

LADY MACBETH

> My hands are of your colour; but I shame
> To wear a heart so white.

> Knocking within

> I hear a knocking
> At the south entry: retire we to our chamber;
> A little water clears us of this deed:
> How easy is it, then! Your constancy
> Hath left you unattended.

> Knocking within

> Hark! more knocking.
> Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us,
> And show us to be watchers. Be not lost
> So poorly in your thoughts.

MACBETH

> To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.

> Knocking within

> Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!

> Exeunt

### SCENE III. The same.

> Knocking within. Enter a Porter

Porter

> Here's a knocking indeed! If a
> man were porter of hell-gate, he should have
> old turning the key.

> Knocking within

> Knock,
> knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of
> Beelzebub? Here's a farmer, that hanged
> himself on the expectation of plenty: come in
> time; have napkins enow about you; here
> you'll sweat for't.

> Knocking within

> Knock,
> knock! Who's there, in the other devil's
> name? Faith, here's an equivocator, that could
> swear in both the scales against either scale;
> who committed treason enough for God's sake,
> yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come
> in, equivocator.

> Knocking within

> Knock,
> knock, knock! Who's there? Faith, here's an
> English tailor come hither, for stealing out of
> a French hose: come in, tailor; here you may
> roast your goose.

> Knocking within

> Knock,
> knock; never at quiet! What are you? But
> this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter
> it no further: I had thought to have let in
> some of all professions that go the primrose
> way to the everlasting bonfire.

> Knocking within

> Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.

> Opens the gate

> Enter MACDUFF and LENNOX

MACDUFF

> Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
> That you do lie so late?

Porter

> 'Faith sir, we were carousing till the
> second cock: and drink, sir, is a great
> provoker of three things.

MACDUFF

> What three things does drink especially provoke?

Porter

> Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and
> urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes;
> it provokes the desire, but it takes
> away the performance: therefore, much drink
> may be said to be an equivocator with lechery:
> it makes him, and it mars him; it sets
> him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him,
> and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and
> not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him
> in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.

MACDUFF

> I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.

Porter

> That it did, sir, i' the very throat on
> me: but I requited him for his lie; and, I
> think, being too strong for him, though he took
> up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast
> him.

MACDUFF

> Is thy master stirring?

> Enter MACBETH

> Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes.

LENNOX

> Good morrow, noble sir.

MACBETH

> Good morrow, both.

MACDUFF

> Is the king stirring, worthy thane?

MACBETH

> Not yet.

MACDUFF

> He did command me to call timely on him:
> I have almost slipp'd the hour.

MACBETH

> I'll bring you to him.

MACDUFF

> I know this is a joyful trouble to you;
> But yet 'tis one.

MACBETH

> The labour we delight in physics pain.
> This is the door.

MACDUFF

> I'll make so bold to call,
> For 'tis my limited service.

> Exit

LENNOX

> Goes the king hence to-day?

MACBETH

> He does: he did appoint so.

LENNOX

> The night has been unruly: where we lay,
> Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say,
> Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death,
> And prophesying with accents terrible
> Of dire combustion and confused events
> New hatch'd to the woeful time: the obscure bird
> Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth
> Was feverous and did shake.

MACBETH

> 'Twas a rough night.

LENNOX

> My young remembrance cannot parallel
> A fellow to it.

> Re-enter MACDUFF

MACDUFF

> O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart
> Cannot conceive nor name thee!

MACBETH LENNOX

> What's the matter.

MACDUFF

> Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
> Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
> The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
> The life o' the building!

MACBETH

> What is 't you say? the life?

LENNOX

> Mean you his majesty?

MACDUFF

> Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
> With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak;
> See, and then speak yourselves.

> Exeunt MACBETH and LENNOX

> Awake, awake!
> Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason!
> Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!
> Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
> And look on death itself! up, up, and see
> The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!
> As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,
> To countenance this horror! Ring the bell.

> Bell rings

> Enter LADY MACBETH

LADY MACBETH

> What's the business,
> That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
> The sleepers of the house? speak, speak!

MACDUFF

> O gentle lady,
> 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
> The repetition, in a woman's ear,
> Would murder as it fell.

> Enter BANQUO

> O Banquo, Banquo,
> Our royal master 's murder'd!

LADY MACBETH

> Woe, alas!
> What, in our house?

BANQUO

> Too cruel any where.
> Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself,
> And say it is not so.

> Re-enter MACBETH and LENNOX, with ROSS

MACBETH

> Had I but died an hour before this chance,
> I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant,
> There 's nothing serious in mortality:
> All is but toys: renown and grace is dead;
> The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
> Is left this vault to brag of.

> Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN

DONALBAIN

> What is amiss?

MACBETH

> You are, and do not know't:
> The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
> Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.

MACDUFF

> Your royal father 's murder'd.

MALCOLM

> O, by whom?

LENNOX

> Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done 't:
> Their hands and faces were an badged with blood;
> So were their daggers, which unwiped we found
> Upon their pillows:
> They stared, and were distracted; no man's life
> Was to be trusted with them.

MACBETH

> O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
> That I did kill them.

MACDUFF

> Wherefore did you so?

MACBETH

> Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,
> Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:
> The expedition my violent love
> Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan,
> His silver skin laced with his golden blood;
> And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature
> For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
> Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
> Unmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refrain,
> That had a heart to love, and in that heart
> Courage to make 's love kno wn?

LADY MACBETH

> Help me hence, ho!

MACDUFF

> Look to the lady.

MALCOLM

> [Aside to DONALBAIN] Why do we hold our tongues,
> That most may claim this argument for ours?

DONALBAIN

> [Aside to MALCOLM] What should be spoken here,
> where our fate,
> Hid in an auger-hole, may rush, and seize us?
> Let 's away;
> Our tears are not yet brew'd.

MALCOLM

> [Aside to DONALBAIN] Nor our strong sorrow
> Upon the foot of motion.

BANQUO

> Look to the lady:

> LADY MACBETH is carried out

> And when we have our naked frailties hid,
> That suffer in exposure, let us meet,
> And question this most bloody piece of work,
> To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us:
> In the great hand of God I stand; and thence
> Against the undivulged pretence I fight
> Of treasonous malice.

MACDUFF

> And so do I.

ALL

> So all.

MACBETH

> Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
> And meet i' the hall together.

ALL

> Well contented.

> Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.

MALCOLM

> What will you do? Let's not consort with them:
> To show an unfelt sorrow is an office
> Which the false man does easy. I'll to England.

DONALBAIN

> To Ireland, I; our separated fortune
> Shall keep us both the safer: where we are,
> There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood,
> The nearer bloody.

MALCOLM

> This murderous shaft that's shot
> Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way
> Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse;
> And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,
> But shift away: there's warrant in that theft
> Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left.

> Exeunt

### SCENE IV. Outside Macbeth's castle.

> Enter ROSS and an old Man

Old Man

> Threescore and ten I can remember well:
> Within the volume of which time I have seen
> Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night
> Hath trifled former knowings.

ROSS

> Ah, good father,
> Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
> Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day,
> And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
> Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame,
> That darkness does the face of earth entomb,
> When living light should kiss it?

Old Man

> 'Tis unnatural,
> Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
> A falcon, towering in her pride of place,
> Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.

ROSS

> And Duncan's horses--a thing most strange and certain--
> Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,
> Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
> Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make
> War with mankind.

Old Man

> 'Tis said they eat each other.

ROSS

> They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes
> That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Macduff.

> Enter MACDUFF

> How goes the world, sir, now?

MACDUFF

> Why, see you not?

ROSS

> Is't known who did this more than bloody deed?

MACDUFF

> Those that Macbeth hath slain.

ROSS

> Alas, the day!
> What good could they pretend?

MACDUFF

> They were suborn'd:
> Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's two sons,
> Are stol'n away and fled; which puts upon them
> Suspicion of the deed.

ROSS

> 'Gainst nature still!
> Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up
> Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like
> The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.

MACDUFF

> He is already named, and gone to Scone
> To be invested.

ROSS

> Where is Duncan's body?

MACDUFF

> Carried to Colmekill,
> The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
> And guardian of their bones.

ROSS

> Will you to Scone?

MACDUFF

> No, cousin, I'll to Fife.

ROSS

> Well, I will thither.

MACDUFF

> Well, may you see things well done there: adieu!
> Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!

ROSS

> Farewell, father.

Old Man

> God's benison go with you; and with those
> That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!

> Exeunt

### ACT III

### SCENE I. Forres. The palace.

> Enter BANQUO

BANQUO

> Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
> As the weird women promised, and, I fear,
> Thou play'dst most foully for't: yet it was said
> It should not stand in thy posterity,
> But that myself should be the root and father
> Of many kings. If there come truth from them--
> As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine--
> Why, by the verities on thee made good,
> May they not be my oracles as well,
> And set me up in hope? But hush! no more.

> Sennet sounded. Enter MACBETH, as king, LADY MACBETH, as queen, LENNOX, ROSS, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants

MACBETH

> Here's our chief guest.

LADY MACBETH

> If he had been forgotten,
> It had been as a gap in our great feast,
> And all-thing unbecoming.

MACBETH

> To-night we hold a solemn supper sir,
> And I'll request your presence.

BANQUO

> Let your highness
> Command upon me; to the which my duties
> Are with a most indissoluble tie
> For ever knit.

MACBETH

> Ride you this afternoon?

BANQUO

> Ay, my good lord.

MACBETH

> We should have else desired your good advice,
> Which still hath been both grave and prosperous,
> In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow.
> Is't far you ride?

BANQUO

> As far, my lord, as will fill up the time
> 'Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better,
> I must become a borrower of the night
> For a dark hour or twain.

MACBETH

> Fail not our feast.

BANQUO

> My lord, I will not.

MACBETH

> We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd
> In England and in Ireland, not confessing
> Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers
> With strange invention: but of that to-morrow,
> When therewithal we shall have cause of state
> Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu,
> Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you?

BANQUO

> Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon 's.

MACBETH

> I wish your horses swift and sure of foot;
> And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell.

> Exit BANQUO

> Let every man be master of his time
> Till seven at night: to make society
> The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself
> Till supper-time alone: while then, God be with you!

> Exeunt all but MACBETH, and an attendant

> Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men
> Our pleasure?

ATTENDANT

> They are, my lord, without the palace gate.

MACBETH

> Bring them before us.

> Exit Attendant

> To be thus is nothing;
> But to be safely thus.--Our fears in Banquo
> Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature
> Reigns that which would be fear'd: 'tis much he dares;
> And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,
> He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
> To act in safety. There is none but he
> Whose being I do fear: and, under him,
> My Genius is rebuked; as, it is said,
> Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters
> When first they put the name of king upon me,
> And bade them speak to him: then prophet-like
> They hail'd him father to a line of kings:
> Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,
> And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,
> Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand,
> No son of mine succeeding. If 't be so,
> For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind;
> For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd;
> Put rancours in the vessel of my peace
> Only for them; and mine eternal jewel
> Given to the common enemy of man,
> To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings!
> Rather than so, come fate into the list.
> And champion me to the utterance! Who's there!

> Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers

> Now go to the door, and stay there till we call.

> Exit Attendant

> Was it not yesterday we spoke together?

First Murderer

> It was, so please your highness.

MACBETH

> Well then, now
> Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know
> That it was he in the times past which held you
> So under fortune, which you thought had been
> Our innocent self: this I made good to you
> In our last conference, pass'd in probation with you,
> How you were borne in hand, how cross'd,
> the instruments,
> Who wrought with them, and all things else that might
> To half a soul and to a notion crazed
> Say 'Thus did Banquo.'

First Murderer

> You made it known to us.

MACBETH

> I did so, and went further, which is now
> Our point of second meeting. Do you find
> Your patience so predominant in your nature
> That you can let this go? Are you so gospell'd
> To pray for this good man and for his issue,
> Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave
> And beggar'd yours for ever?

First Murderer

> We are men, my liege.

MACBETH

> Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men;
> As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,
> Shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves, are clept
> All by the name of dogs: the valued file
> Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
> The housekeeper, the hunter, every one
> According to the gift which bounteous nature
> Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive
> Particular addition. from the bill
> That writes them all alike: and so of men.
> Now, if you have a station in the file,
> Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say 't;
> And I will put that business in your bosoms,
> Whose execution takes your enemy off,
> Grapples you to the heart and love of us,
> Who wear our health but sickly in his life,
> Which in his death were perfect.

Second Murderer

> I am one, my liege,
> Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
> Have so incensed that I am reckless what
> I do to spite the world.

First Murderer

> And I another
> So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,
> That I would set my lie on any chance,
> To mend it, or be rid on't.

MACBETH

> Both of you
> Know Banquo was your enemy.

Both Murderers

> True, my lord.

MACBETH

> So is he mine; and in such bloody distance,
> That every minute of his being thrusts
> Against my near'st of life: and though I could
> With barefaced power sweep him from my sight
> And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not,
> For certain friends that are both his and mine,
> Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall
> Who I myself struck down; and thence it is,
> That I to your assistance do make love,
> Masking the business from the common eye
> For sundry weighty reasons.

Second Murderer

> We shall, my lord,
> Perform what you command us.

First Murderer

> Though our lives--

MACBETH

> Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most
> I will advise you where to plant yourselves;
> Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time,
> The moment on't; for't must be done to-night,
> And something from the palace; always thought
> That I require a clearness: and with him--
> To leave no rubs nor botches in the work--
> Fleance his son, that keeps him company,
> Whose absence is no less material to me
> Than is his father's, must embrace the fate
> Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart:
> I'll come to you anon.

Both Murderers

> We are resolved, my lord.

MACBETH

> I'll call upon you straight: abide within.

> Exeunt Murderers

> It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight,
> If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.

> Exit

### SCENE II. The palace.

> Enter LADY MACBETH and a Servant

LADY MACBETH

> Is Banquo gone from court?

Servant

> Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.

LADY MACBETH

> Say to the king, I would attend his leisure
> For a few words.

Servant

> Madam, I will.

> Exit

LADY MACBETH

> Nought's had, all's spent,
> Where our desire is got without content:
> 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy
> Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.

> Enter MACBETH

> How now, my lord! why do you keep alone,
> Of sorriest fancies your companions making,
> Using those thoughts which should indeed have died
> With them they think on? Things without all remedy
> Should be without regard: what's done is done.

MACBETH

> We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it:
> She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice
> Remains in danger of her former tooth.
> But let the frame of things disjoint, both the
> worlds suffer,
> Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep
> In the affliction of these terrible dreams
> That shake us nightly: better be with the dead,
> Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
> Than on the torture of the mind to lie
> In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
> After life's fitful fever he sleeps well;
> Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
> Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
> Can touch him further.

LADY MACBETH

> Come on;
> Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;
> Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night.

MACBETH

> So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you:
> Let your remembrance apply to Banquo;
> Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue:
> Unsafe the while, that we
> Must lave our honours in these flattering streams,
> And make our faces vizards to our hearts,
> Disguising what they are.

LADY MACBETH

> You must leave this.

MACBETH

> O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
> Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.

LADY MACBETH

> But in them nature's copy's not eterne.

MACBETH

> There's comfort yet; they are assailable;
> Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown
> His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons
> The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums
> Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
> A deed of dreadful note.

LADY MACBETH

> What's to be done?

MACBETH

> Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
> Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night,
> Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;
> And with thy bloody and invisible hand
> Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
> Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the crow
> Makes wing to the rooky wood:
> Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;
> While night's black agents to their preys do rouse.
> Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still;
> Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
> So, prithee, go with me.

> Exeunt

### SCENE III. A park near the palace.

> Enter three Murderers

First Murderer

> But who did bid thee join with us?

Third Murderer

> Macbeth.

Second Murderer

> He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers
> Our offices and what we have to do
> To the direction just.

First Murderer

> Then stand with us.
> The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:
> Now spurs the lated traveller apace
> To gain the timely inn; and near approaches
> The subject of our watch.

Third Murderer

> Hark! I hear horses.

BANQUO

> [Within] Give us a light there, ho!

Second Murderer

> Then 'tis he: the rest
> That are within the note of expectation
> Already are i' the court.

First Murderer

> His horses go about.

Third Murderer

> Almost a mile: but he does usually,
> So all men do, from hence to the palace gate
> Make it their walk.

Second Murderer

> A light, a light!

> Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE with a torch

Third Murderer

> 'Tis he.

First Murderer

> Stand to't.

BANQUO

> It will be rain to-night.

First Murderer

> Let it come down.

> They set upon BANQUO

BANQUO

> O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!
> Thou mayst revenge. O slave!

> Dies. FLEANCE escapes

Third Murderer

> Who did strike out the light?

First Murderer

> Wast not the way?

Third Murderer

> There's but one down; the son is fled.

Second Murderer

> We have lost
> Best half of our affair.

First Murderer

> Well, let's away, and say how much is done.

> Exeunt

### SCENE IV. The same. Hall in the palace.

> A banquet prepared. Enter MACBETH, LADY MACBETH, ROSS, LENNOX, Lords, and Attendants

MACBETH

> You know your own degrees; sit down: at first
> And last the hearty welcome.

Lords

> Thanks to your majesty.

MACBETH

> Ourself will mingle with society,
> And play the humble host.
> Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time
> We will require her welcome.

LADY MACBETH

> Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;
> For my heart speaks they are welcome.

> First Murderer appears at the door

MACBETH

> See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.
> Both sides are even: here I'll sit i' the midst:
> Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure
> The table round.

> Approaching the door

> There's blood on thy face.

First Murderer

> 'Tis Banquo's then.

MACBETH

> 'Tis better thee without than he within.
> Is he dispatch'd?

First Murderer

> My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.

MACBETH

> Thou art the best o' the cut-throats: yet he's good
> That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,
> Thou art the nonpareil.

First Murderer

> Most royal sir,
> Fleance is 'scaped.

MACBETH

> Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect,
> Whole as the marble, founded as the rock,
> As broad and general as the casing air:
> But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in
> To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe?

First Murderer

> Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
> With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
> The least a death to nature.

MACBETH

> Thanks for that:
> There the grown serpent lies; the worm that's fled
> Hath nature that in time will venom breed,
> No teeth for the present. Get thee gone: to-morrow
> We'll hear, ourselves, again.

> Exit Murderer

LADY MACBETH

> My royal lord,
> You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold
> That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a-making,
> 'Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home;
> From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony;
> Meeting were bare without it.

MACBETH

> Sweet remembrancer!
> Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
> And health on both!

LENNOX

> May't please your highness sit.

> The GHOST OF BANQUO enters, and sits in MACBETH's place

MACBETH

> Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,
> Were the graced person of our Banquo present;
> Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
> Than pity for mischance!

ROSS

> His absence, sir,
> Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness
> To grace us with your royal company.

MACBETH

> The table's full.

LENNOX

> Here is a place reserved, sir.

MACBETH

> Where?

LENNOX

> Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your highness?

MACBETH

> Which of you have done this?

Lords

> What, my good lord?

MACBETH

> Thou canst not say I did it: never shake
> Thy gory locks at me.

ROSS

> Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well.

LADY MACBETH

> Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus,
> And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat;
> The fit is momentary; upon a thought
> He will again be well: if much you note him,
> You shall offend him and extend his passion:
> Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?

MACBETH

> Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
> Which might appal the devil.

LADY MACBETH

> O proper stuff!
> This is the very painting of your fear:
> This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,
> Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts,
> Impostors to true fear, would well become
> A woman's story at a winter's fire,
> Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!
> Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
> You look but on a stool.

MACBETH

> Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo!
> how say you?
> Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.
> If charnel-houses and our graves must send
> Those that we bury back, our monuments
> Shall be the maws of kites.

> GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes

LADY MACBETH

> What, quite unmann'd in folly?

MACBETH

> If I stand here, I saw him.

LADY MACBETH

> Fie, for shame!

MACBETH

> Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,
> Ere human statute purged the gentle weal;
> Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd
> Too terrible for the ear: the times have been,
> That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
> And there an end; but now they rise again,
> With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
> And push us from our stools: this is more strange
> Than such a murder is.

LADY MACBETH

> My worthy lord,
> Your noble friends do lack you.

MACBETH

> I do forget.
> Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends,
> I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing
> To those that know me. Come, love and health to all;
> Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine; fill full.
> I drink to the general joy o' the whole table,
> And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;
> Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
> And all to all.

Lords

> Our duties, and the pledge.

> Re-enter GHOST OF BANQUO

MACBETH

> Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee!
> Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;
> Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
> Which thou dost glare with!

LADY MACBETH

> Think of this, good peers,
> But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
> Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.

MACBETH

> What man dare, I dare:
> Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
> The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger;
> Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
> Shall never tremble: or be alive again,
> And dare me to the desert with thy sword;
> If trembling I inhabit then, protest me
> The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!
> Unreal mockery, hence!

> GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes

> Why, so: being gone,
> I am a man again. Pray you, sit still.

LADY MACBETH

> You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,
> With most admired disorder.

MACBETH

> Can such things be,
> And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
> Without our special wonder? You make me strange
> Even to the disposition that I owe,
> When now I think you can behold such sights,
> And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,
> When mine is blanched with fear.

ROSS

> What sights, my lord?

LADY MACBETH

> I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse;
> Question enrages him. At once, good night:
> Stand not upon the order of your going,
> But go at once.

LENNOX

> Good night; and better health
> Attend his majesty!

LADY MACBETH

> A kind good night to all!

> Exeunt all but MACBETH and LADY MACBETH

MACBETH

> It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood:
> Stones have been known to move and trees to speak;
> Augurs and understood relations have
> By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth
> The secret'st man of blood. What is the night?

LADY MACBETH

> Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

MACBETH

> How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person
> At our great bidding?

LADY MACBETH

> Did you send to him, sir?

MACBETH

> I hear it by the way; but I will send:
> There's not a one of them but in his house
> I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow,
> And betimes I will, to the weird sisters:
> More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know,
> By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good,
> All causes shall give way: I am in blood
> Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,
> Returning were as tedious as go o'er:
> Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
> Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.

LADY MACBETH

> You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

MACBETH

> Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse
> Is the initiate fear that wants hard use:
> We are yet but young in deed.

> Exeunt

### SCENE V. A Heath.

> Thunder. Enter the three Witches meeting HECATE

First Witch

> Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly.

HECATE

> Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
> Saucy and overbold? How did you dare
> To trade and traffic with Macbeth
> In riddles and affairs of death;
> And I, the mistress of your charms,
> The close contriver of all harms,
> Was never call'd to bear my part,
> Or show the glory of our art?
> And, which is worse, all you have done
> Hath been but for a wayward son,
> Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do,
> Loves for his own ends, not for you.
> But make amends now: get you gone,
> And at the pit of Acheron
> Meet me i' the morning: thither he
> 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 and a 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 sleights
> Shall raise such artificial sprites
> As by the strength of their illusion
> Shall draw him on to his confusion:
> He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
> He hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear:
> And you all know, security
> Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

> Music and a 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.

> Exit

First Witch

> Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.

> Exeunt

### SCENE VI. Forres. The palace.

> Enter LENNOX and another Lord

LENNOX

> My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,
> Which can interpret further: only, I say,
> Things have been strangely borne. The
> gracious Duncan
> Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead:
> And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;
> Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd,
> For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late.
> Who cannot want the thought how monstrous
> It 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't. 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 received
> 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, upon 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:
> All which we pine for now: and this report
> Hath so exasperate the king that he
> Prepares for some attempt of war.

LENNOX

> Sent he to Macduff?

Lord

> He did: and with an absolute 'Sir, not I,'
> The cloudy messenger turns me his back,
> And hums, as who should say 'You'll rue the time
> That clogs me with this answer.'

LENNOX

> And that well might
> Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance
> His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel
> Fly to the court of England and unfold
> His message ere he come, that a swift blessing
> May soon return to this our suffering country
> Under a hand accursed!

Lord

> I'll send my prayers with him.

> Exeunt

### ACT IV

### SCENE I. A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.

> Thunder. Enter the three Witches

First Witch

> Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.

Second Witch

> Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.

Third Witch

> Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time.

First Witch

> Round about the cauldron go;
> In the poison'd entrails throw.
> Toad, that under cold stone
> Days and nights has thirty-one
> Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
> Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

ALL

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

Second 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.

Third 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.

Second Witch

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

> Enter HECATE to the other three Witches

HECATE

> O well done! I commend your pains;
> And every one shall share i' the gains;
> And now about the cauldron sing,
> Live elves and fairies in a ring,
> Enchanting all that you put in.

> Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' & c

> HECATE retires

Second Witch

> By the pricking of my thumbs,
> Something wicked this way comes.
> Open, locks,
> Whoever knocks!

> Enter MACBETH

MACBETH

> How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!
> What is't you do?

ALL

> A deed without a name.

MACBETH

> I conjure you, by that which you profess,
> Howe'er you come to know it, answer me:
> Though you untie the winds and let them fight
> Against the churches; though the yesty waves
> Confound and swallow navigation up;
> Though bladed corn be lodged 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 germens tumble all together,
> Even till destruction sicken; answer me
> To what I ask you.

First Witch

> Speak.

Second Witch

> Demand.

Third Witch

> We'll answer.

First Witch

> Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,
> Or from our masters?

MACBETH

> Call 'em; let me see 'em.

First Witch

> Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
> Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten
> From the murderer's gibbet throw
> Into the flame.

ALL

> Come, high or low;
> Thyself and office deftly show!

> Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head

MACBETH

> Tell me, thou unknown power,--

First Witch

> He knows thy thought:
> Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

First Apparition

> Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;
> Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.

> Descends

MACBETH

> Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;
> Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one
> word more,--

First Witch

> He will not be commanded: here's another,
> More potent than the first.

> Thunder. Second Apparition: A bloody Child

Second Apparition

> Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!

MACBETH

> Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee.

Second Apparition

> Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn
> The power of man, for none of woman born
> Shall harm Macbeth.

> Descends

MACBETH

> Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee?
> But yet I'll make assurance double sure,
> And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;
> That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,
> And sleep in spite of thunder.

> Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand

> What is this
> That rises like the issue of a king,
> And wears upon his baby-brow the round
> And top of sovereignty?

ALL

> Listen, but speak not to't.

Third Apparition

> Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
> Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
> Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
> Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
> Shall come against him.

> Descends

MACBETH

> That will never be
> Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
> Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
> Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood
> Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
> Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
> To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart
> Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art
> Can tell so much: shall Banquo's issue ever
> Reign in this kingdom?

ALL

> Seek to know no more.

MACBETH

> I will be satisfied: deny me this,
> And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.
> Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?

> Hautboys

First Witch

> Show!

Second Witch

> Show!

Third Witch

> Show!

ALL

> Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
> Come like shadows, so depart!

> A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand; GHOST OF BANQUO following

MACBETH

> 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! I'll see no more:
> And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass
> Which shows me many more; and some I see
> That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry:
> Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true;
> For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
> And points at them for his.

> Apparitions vanish

> What, is this so?

First Witch

> Ay, sir, all this is so: but why
> Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
> Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,
> And show the best of our delights:
> I'll charm the air to give a sound,
> While you perform your antic round:
> That this great king may kindly say,
> Our duties did his welcome pay.

> Music. The witches dance and then vanish, with HECATE

MACBETH

> Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour
> Stand aye accursed in the calendar!
> Come in, without there!

> Enter LENNOX

LENNOX

> What's your grace's will?

MACBETH

> Saw you the weird sisters?

LENNOX

> No, my lord.

MACBETH

> Came they not by you?

LENNOX

> No, indeed, my lord.

MACBETH

> Infected be the air whereon they ride;
> And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear
> The galloping of horse: who was't came by?

LENNOX

> 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word
> Macduff is fled to England.

MACBETH

> Fled to England!

LENNOX

> Ay, my good lord.

MACBETH

> Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits:
> The flighty purpose never is o'ertook
> Unless the deed go with it; from this moment
> The very firstlings of my heart shall be
> The firstlings of my hand. And even now,
> To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:
> The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
> Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword
> His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
> That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;
> This deed I'll do before this purpose cool.
> But no more sights!--Where are these gentlemen?
> Come, bring me where they are.

> Exeunt

### SCENE II. Fife. Macduff's castle.

> Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSS

LADY MACDUFF

> What had he done, to make him fly the land?

ROSS

> You must have patience, madam.

LADY MACDUFF

> He had none:
> His flight was madness: when our actions do not,
> Our fears do make us traitors.

ROSS

> You know not
> Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.

LADY MACDUFF

> Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,
> His mansion and his titles in a place
> From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
> He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,
> The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
> Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
> All is the fear and nothing is the love;
> As little is the wisdom, where the flight
> So runs against all reason.

ROSS

> My dearest coz,
> I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband,
> He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
> The fits o' the season. I dare not speak
> much further;
> But cruel are the times, when we are traitors
> And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour
> From what we fear, yet know not what we fear,
> But float upon a wild and violent sea
> Each way and move. I take my leave of you:
> Shall not be long but I'll be here again:
> Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
> To what they were before. My pretty cousin,
> Blessing upon you!

LADY MACDUFF

> Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.

ROSS

> I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
> It would be my disgrace and your discomfort:
> I take my leave at once.

> Exit

LADY MACDUFF

> Sirrah, your father's dead;
> And what will you do now? How will you live?

Son

> As birds do, mother.

LADY MACDUFF

> What, with worms and flies?

Son

> With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

LADY MACDUFF

> Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime,
> The pitfall nor the gin.

Son

> Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
> My father is not dead, for all your saying.

LADY MACDUFF

> Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?

Son

> Nay, how will you do for a husband?

LADY MACDUFF

> Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.

Son

> Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

LADY MACDUFF

> Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith,
> With wit enough for thee.

Son

> Was my father a traitor, mother?

LADY MACDUFF

> Ay, that he was.

Son

> What is a traitor?

LADY MACDUFF

> Why, one that swears and lies.

Son

> And be all traitors that do so?

LADY MACDUFF

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

Son

> And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?

LADY MACDUFF

> Every one.

Son

> Who must hang them?

LADY MACDUFF

> Why, the honest men.

Son

> Then the liars and swearers are fools,
> for there are liars and swearers enow to beat
> the honest men and hang up them.

LADY MACDUFF

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

Son

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

LADY MACDUFF

> Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!

> Enter a Messenger

Messenger

> Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
> Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
> I doubt some danger does approach you nearly:
> If you will take a homely man's advice,
> Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
> To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;
> To do worse to you were fell cruelty,
> Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!
> I dare abide no longer.

> Exit

LADY MACDUFF

> Whither should I fly?
> I have done no harm. But I remember now
> I am in this earthly world; where to do harm
> Is often laudable, to do good sometime
> Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas,
> Do I put up that womanly defence,
> To say I have done no harm?

> Enter Murderers

> What are these faces?

First Murderer

> Where is your husband?

LADY MACDUFF

> I hope, in no place so unsanctified
> Where such as thou mayst find him.

First Murderer

> He's a traitor.

Son

> Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!

First Murderer

> What, you egg!

> Stabbing him

> Young fry of treachery!

Son

> He has kill'd me, mother:
> Run away, I pray you!

> Dies

> Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying 'Murder!' Exeunt Murderers, following her

### SCENE III. England. Before the King's palace.

> Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF

MALCOLM

> Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
> Weep our sad bosoms empty.

MACDUFF

> Let us rather
> Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men
> Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new morn
> New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows
> Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
> As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out
> Like syllable of dolour.

MALCOLM

> What I believe I'll wail,
> What know believe, and what I can redress,
> As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
> What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.
> This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
> Was once thought honest: you have loved him well.
> He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young;
> but something
> You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom
> To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb
> To appease an angry god.

MACDUFF

> I am not treacherous.

MALCOLM

> But Macbeth is.
> A good and virtuous nature may recoil
> In an imperial charge. But I shall crave
> your pardon;
> That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose:
> Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;
> Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
> Yet grace must still look so.

MACDUFF

> I have lost my hopes.

MALCOLM

> Perchance even there where I did find my doubts.
> Why in that rawness left you wife and child,
> Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,
> Without leave-taking? I pray you,
> Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
> But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just,
> Whatever I shall think.

MACDUFF

> Bleed, bleed, poor country!
> Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure,
> For goodness dare not cheque thee: wear thou
> thy wrongs;
> The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord:
> I would not be the villain that thou think'st
> For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
> And the rich East to boot.

MALCOLM

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

MACDUFF

> What should he be?

MALCOLM

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

MACDUFF

> Not in the legions
> Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd
> In evils to top Macbeth.

MALCOLM

> I grant him bloody,
> Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
> Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin
> That has a name: but there's no bottom, none,
> In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
> Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up
> The cistern of my lust, and my desire
> All continent impediments would o'erbear
> That did oppose my will: better Macbeth
> Than such an one to reign.

MACDUFF

> Boundless intemperance
> In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
> The untimely emptying of the happy throne
> And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
> To take upon you what is yours: you may
> Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
> And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.
> We have willing dames enough: there cannot be
> That vulture in you, to devour so many
> As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
> Finding it so inclined.

MALCOLM

> With this there grows
> In my most ill-composed affection such
> A stanchless avarice that, were I king,
> I should cut off the nobles for their lands,
> Desire his jewels and this other's house:
> And my more-having would be as a sauce
> To make me hunger more; that I should forge
> Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
> Destroying them for wealth.

MACDUFF

> This avarice
> Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root
> Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been
> The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear;
> Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will.
> Of your mere own: all these are portable,
> With other graces weigh'd.

MALCOLM

> But I have none: the king-becoming graces,
> As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
> Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
> Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
> I have no relish of them, but abound
> In the division of each several crime,
> Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
> Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
> Uproar the universal peace, confound
> All unity on earth.

MACDUFF

> O Scotland, Scotland!

MALCOLM

> If such a one be fit to govern, speak:
> I am as I have spoken.

MACDUFF

> Fit to govern!
> No, not to live. O nation miserable,
> With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,
> When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
> Since that the truest issue of thy throne
> By his own interdiction stands accursed,
> And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father
> Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee,
> Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,
> Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
> These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself
> Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,
> Thy hope ends here!

MALCOLM

> Macduff, this noble passion,
> Child of integrity, hath from my soul
> Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts
> To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
> By many of these trains hath sought to win me
> Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me
> From over-credulous haste: but God above
> Deal between thee and me! for even now
> I put myself to thy direction, and
> Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure
> The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
> For strangers to my nature. I am yet
> Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,
> Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,
> At no time broke my faith, would not betray
> The devil to his fellow and delight
> No less in truth than life: my first false speaking
> Was this upon myself: what I am truly,
> Is thine and my poor country's to command:
> Whither indeed, before thy here-approach,
> Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
> Already at a point, was setting forth.
> Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness
> Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?

MACDUFF

> Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
> 'Tis hard to reconcile.

> Enter a Doctor

MALCOLM

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

Doctor

> Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls
> That stay his cure: their malady convinces
> The great assay of art; but at his touch--
> Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand--
> They presently amend.

MALCOLM

> I thank you, doctor.

> Exit Doctor

MACDUFF

> What's the disease he means?

MALCOLM

> 'Tis call'd the evil:
> A most miraculous work in this good king;
> Which often, since my here-remain in England,
> I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
> Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
> All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
> The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
> Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
> Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
> To the succeeding royalty he leaves
> The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
> He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,
> And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
> That speak him full of grace.

> Enter ROSS

MACDUFF

> See, who comes here?

MALCOLM

> My countryman; but yet I know him not.

MACDUFF

> My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

MALCOLM

> I know him now. Good God, betimes remove
> The means that makes us strangers!

ROSS

> Sir, amen.

MACDUFF

> Stands Scotland where it did?

ROSS

> Alas, poor country!
> Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot
> Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,
> But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
> Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air
> Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
> A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell
> Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives
> Expire before the flowers in their caps,
> Dying or ere they sicken.

MACDUFF

> O, relation
> Too nice, and yet too true!

MALCOLM

> What's the newest grief?

ROSS

> That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker:
> Each minute teems a new one.

MACDUFF

> How does my wife?

ROSS

> Why, well.

MACDUFF

> And all my children?

ROSS

> Well too.

MACDUFF

> The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?

ROSS

> No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.

MACDUFF

> But not a niggard of your speech: how goes't?

ROSS

> When I came hither to transport the tidings,
> Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
> Of many worthy fellows that were out;
> Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
> For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot:
> Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
> Would create soldiers, make our women fight,
> To doff their dire distresses.

MALCOLM

> Be't their comfort
> We are coming thither: gracious England hath
> Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men;
> An older and a better soldier none
> That Christendom gives out.

ROSS

> Would I could answer
> This comfort with the like! But I have words
> That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
> Where hearing should not latch them.

MACDUFF

> What concern they?
> The general cause? or is it a fee-grief
> Due to some single breast?

ROSS

> No mind that's honest
> But in it shares some woe; though the main part
> Pertains to you alone.

MACDUFF

> If it be mine,
> Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

ROSS

> Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
> Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
> That ever yet they heard.

MACDUFF

> Hum! I guess at it.

ROSS

> Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes
> Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,
> Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
> To add the death of you.

MALCOLM

> Merciful heaven!
> What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
> Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
> Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.

MACDUFF

> My children too?

ROSS

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

MACDUFF

> And I must be from thence!
> My wife kill'd too?

ROSS

> I have said.

MALCOLM

> Be comforted:
> Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,
> To cure this deadly grief.

MACDUFF

> He has no children. All my pretty ones?
> Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?
> What, all my pretty chickens and their dam
> At one fell swoop?

MALCOLM

> Dispute it like a man.

MACDUFF

> I shall do so;
> But I must also feel it as a man:
> I cannot but remember such things were,
> That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,
> And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
> They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,
> Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
> Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now!

MALCOLM

> Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
> Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.

MACDUFF

> O, I could play the woman with mine eyes
> And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens,
> Cut short all intermission; front to front
> Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
> Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
> Heaven forgive him too!

MALCOLM

> This tune goes manly.
> Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
> Our lack is nothing but our leave; Macbeth
> Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
> Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may:
> The night is long that never finds the day.

> Exeunt

### ACT V

### SCENE I. Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle.

> Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman

Doctor

> I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive
> no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?

Gentlewoman

> Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen
> her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon
> her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it,
> write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again
> return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

Doctor

> A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once
> the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of
> watching! In this slumbery agitation, besides her
> walking and other actual performances, what, at any
> time, have you heard her say?

Gentlewoman

> That, sir, which I will not report after her.

Doctor

> You may to me: and 'tis most meet you should.

Gentlewoman

> Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to
> confirm my speech.

> Enter LADY MACBETH, with a taper

> Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise;
> and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.

Doctor

> How came she by that light?

Gentlewoman

> Why, it stood by her: she has light by her
> continually; 'tis her command.

Doctor

> You see, her eyes are open.

Gentlewoman

> Ay, but their sense is shut.

Doctor

> What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.

Gentlewoman

> It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus
> washing her hands: I have known her continue in
> this a quarter of an hour.

LADY MACBETH

> Yet here's a spot.

Doctor

> Hark! she speaks: I will set down what comes from
> her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.

LADY MACBETH

> Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why,
> then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my
> lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we
> fear who knows it, when none can call our power to
> account?--Yet who would have thought the old man
> to have had so much blood in him.

Doctor

> Do you mark that?

LADY MACBETH

> The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now?--
> What, will these hands ne'er be clean?--No more o'
> that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with
> this starting.

Doctor

> Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.

Gentlewoman

> She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of
> that: heaven knows what she has known.

LADY MACBETH

> Here's the smell of the blood still: all the
> perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little
> hand. Oh, oh, oh!

Doctor

> What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.

Gentlewoman

> I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the
> dignity of the whole body.

Doctor

> Well, well, well,--

Gentlewoman

> Pray God it be, sir.

Doctor

> This disease is beyond my practise: yet I have known
> those which have walked in their sleep who have died
> holily in their beds.

LADY MACBETH

> Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so
> pale.--I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he
> cannot come out on's grave.

Doctor

> Even so?

LADY MACBETH

> To bed, to bed! there's knocking at the gate:
> come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's
> done cannot be undone.--To bed, to bed, to bed!

> Exit

Doctor

> Will she go now to bed?

Gentlewoman

> Directly.

Doctor

> Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds
> Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds
> To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets:
> More needs she the divine than the physician.
> God, God forgive us all! Look after her;
> Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
> And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night:
> My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight.
> I think, but dare not speak.

Gentlewoman

> Good night, good doctor.

> Exeunt

### SCENE II. The country near Dunsinane.

> Drum and colours. Enter MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, and Soldiers

MENTEITH

> The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,
> His uncle Siward and the good Macduff:
> Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes
> Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm
> Excite the mortified man.

ANGUS

> Near Birnam wood
> Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.

CAITHNESS

> Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?

LENNOX

> For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file
> Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son,
> And many unrough youths that even now
> Protest their first of manhood.

MENTEITH

> What does the tyrant?

CAITHNESS

> Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
> Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him
> Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
> He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
> Within the belt of rule.

ANGUS

> Now does he feel
> His secret murders sticking on his hands;
> Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
> Those he commands move only in command,
> Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
> Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
> Upon a dwarfish thief.

MENTEITH

> Who then shall blame
> His pester'd senses to recoil and start,
> When all that is within him does condemn
> Itself for being there?

CAITHNESS

> Well, march we on,
> To give obedience where 'tis truly owed:
> Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal,
> And with him pour we in our country's purge
> Each drop of us.

LENNOX

> Or so much as it needs,
> To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds.
> Make we our march towards Birnam.

> Exeunt, marching

### SCENE III. Dunsinane. A room in the castle.

> Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants

MACBETH

> Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
> Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
> I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
> Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
> All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:
> 'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman
> Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then fly,
> false thanes,
> And mingle with the English epicures:
> The mind I sway by and the heart I bear
> Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.

> Enter a Servant

> The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
> Where got'st thou that goose look?

Servant

> There is ten thousand--

MACBETH

> Geese, villain!

Servant

> Soldiers, sir.

MACBETH

> Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
> Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
> Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
> Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?

Servant

> The English force, so please you.

MACBETH

> Take thy face hence.

> Exit Servant

> Seyton!--I am sick at heart,
> When I behold--Seyton, I say!--This push
> Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
> I have lived long enough: my way of life
> Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf;
> And that which should accompany old age,
> As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
> I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
> Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
> Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton!

> Enter SEYTON

SEYTON

> What is your gracious pleasure?

MACBETH

> What news more?

SEYTON

> All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.

MACBETH

> I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
> Give me my armour.

SEYTON

> 'Tis not needed yet.

MACBETH

> I'll put it on.
> Send out more horses; skirr the country round;
> Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.
> How does your patient, doctor?

Doctor

> Not so sick, my lord,
> As she is troubled with thick coming fancies,
> That keep her from her rest.

MACBETH

> Cure her of that.
> Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
> Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
> Raze out the written troubles of the brain
> And with some sweet oblivious antidote
> Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
> Which weighs upon the heart?

Doctor

> Therein the patient
> Must minister to himself.

MACBETH

> Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
> Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff.
> Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.
> Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast
> The water of my land, find her disease,
> And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
> I would applaud thee to the very echo,
> That should applaud again.--Pull't off, I say.--
> What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug,
> Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?

Doctor

> Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
> Makes us hear something.

MACBETH

> Bring it after me.
> I will not be afraid of death and bane,
> Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.

Doctor

> [Aside] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
> Profit again should hardly draw me here.

> Exeunt

### SCENE IV. Country near Birnam wood.

> Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD and YOUNG SIWARD, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, ROSS, and Soldiers, marching

MALCOLM

> Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand
> That chambers will be safe.

MENTEITH

> We doubt it nothing.

SIWARD

> What wood is this before us?

MENTEITH

> The wood of Birnam.

MALCOLM

> Let every soldier hew him down a bough
> And bear't before him: thereby shall we shadow
> The numbers of our host and make discovery
> Err in report of us.

Soldiers

> It shall be done.

SIWARD

> We learn no other but the confident tyrant
> Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
> Our setting down before 't.

MALCOLM

> 'Tis his main hope:
> For where there is advantage to be given,
> Both more and less have given him the revolt,
> And none serve with him but constrained things
> Whose hearts are absent too.

MACDUFF

> Let our just censures
> Attend the true event, and put we on
> Industrious soldiership.

SIWARD

> The time approaches
> That will with due decision make us know
> What we shall say we have and what we owe.
> Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate,
> But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:
> Towards which advance the war.

> Exeunt, marching

### SCENE V. Dunsinane. Within the castle.

> Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum and colours

MACBETH

> Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
> The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength
> Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie
> Till famine and the ague eat them up:
> Were they not forced with those that should be ours,
> We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
> And beat them backward home.

> A cry of women within

> What is that noise?

SEYTON

> It is the cry of women, my good lord.

> Exit

MACBETH

> I have almost forgot the taste of fears;
> The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
> To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
> Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
> As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors;
> Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
> Cannot once start me.

> Re-enter SEYTON

> Wherefore was that cry?

SEYTON

> The queen, my lord, is dead.

MACBETH

> She should have died hereafter;
> There would have been a time for such a word.
> To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
> Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
> To the last syllable of recorded time,
> And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
> The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
> Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
> That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
> And then is heard no more: it is a tale
> Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
> Signifying nothing.

> Enter a Messenger

> Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

Messenger

> Gracious my lord,
> I should report that which I say I saw,
> But know not how to do it.

MACBETH

> Well, say, sir.

Messenger

> As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
> I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
> The wood began to move.

MACBETH

> Liar and slave!

Messenger

> Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
> Within this three mile may you see it coming;
> I say, a moving grove.

MACBETH

> If thou speak'st false,
> Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
> Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,
> I care not if thou dost for me as much.
> I pull in resolution, and begin
> To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
> That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood
> Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood
> Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
> If this which he avouches does appear,
> There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
> I gin to be aweary of the sun,
> And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
> Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
> At least we'll die with harness on our back.

> Exeunt

### SCENE VI. Dunsinane. Before the castle.

> Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF, and their Army, with boughs

MALCOLM

> Now near enough: your leafy screens throw down.
> And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle,
> Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
> Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we
> Shall take upon 's what else remains to do,
> According to our order.

SIWARD

> Fare you well.
> Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
> Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.

MACDUFF

> Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,
> Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.

> Exeunt

### SCENE VII. Another part of the field.

> Alarums. Enter MACBETH

MACBETH

> They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,
> But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What's he
> That was not born of woman? Such a one
> Am I to fear, or none.

> Enter YOUNG SIWARD

YOUNG SIWARD

> What is thy name?

MACBETH

> Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

YOUNG SIWARD

> No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
> Than any is in hell.

MACBETH

> My name's Macbeth.

YOUNG SIWARD

> The devil himself could not pronounce a title
> More hateful to mine ear.

MACBETH

> No, nor more fearful.

YOUNG SIWARD

> Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
> I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

> They fight and YOUNG SIWARD is slain

MACBETH

> Thou wast born of woman
> But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
> Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.

> Exit

> Alarums. Enter MACDUFF

MACDUFF

> That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face!
> If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine,
> My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
> I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms
> Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth,
> Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge
> I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;
> By this great clatter, one of greatest note
> Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
> And more I beg not.

> Exit. Alarums

> Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD

SIWARD

> This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd:
> The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;
> The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
> The day almost itself professes yours,
> And little is to do.

MALCOLM

> We have met with foes
> That strike beside us.

SIWARD

> Enter, sir, the castle.

> Exeunt. Alarums

### SCENE VIII. Another part of the field.

> Enter MACBETH

MACBETH

> Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
> On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
> Do better upon them.

> Enter MACDUFF

MACDUFF

> Turn, hell-hound, turn!

MACBETH

> Of all men else I have avoided thee:
> But get thee back; my soul is too much charged
> With blood of thine already.

MACDUFF

> I have no words:
> My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain
> Than terms can give thee out!

> They fight

MACBETH

> Thou losest labour:
> As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
> With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed:
> Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
> I bear a charmed life, which must not yield,
> To one of woman born.

MACDUFF

> Despair thy charm;
> And let the angel whom thou still hast served
> Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
> Untimely ripp'd.

MACBETH

> Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
> For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
> And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
> That palter with us in a double sense;
> That keep the word of promise to our ear,
> And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.

MACDUFF

> Then yield thee, coward,
> And live to be the show and gaze o' the time:
> We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
> Painted on a pole, and underwrit,
> 'Here may you see the tyrant.'

MACBETH

> I will not yield,
> To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
> And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
> Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
> And thou opposed, being of no woman born,
> Yet I will try the last. Before my body
> I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,
> And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'

> Exeunt, fighting. Alarums

> Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, SIWARD, ROSS, the other Thanes, and Soldiers

MALCOLM

> I would the friends we miss were safe arrived.

SIWARD

> Some must go off: and yet, by these I see,
> So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

MALCOLM

> Macduff is missing, and your noble son.

ROSS

> Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
> He only lived but till he was a man;
> The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
> In the unshrinking station where he fought,
> But like a man he died.

SIWARD

> Then he is dead?

ROSS

> Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
> Must not be measured by his worth, for then
> It hath no end.

SIWARD

> Had he his hurts before?

ROSS

> Ay, on the front.

SIWARD

> Why then, God's soldier be he!
> Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
> I would not wish them to a fairer death:
> And so, his knell is knoll'd.

MALCOLM

> He's worth more sorrow,
> And that I'll spend for him.

SIWARD

> He's worth no more
> They say he parted well, and paid his score:
> And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.

> Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head

MACDUFF

> Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands
> The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
> I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
> That speak my salutation in their minds;
> Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:
> Hail, King of Scotland!

ALL

> Hail, King of Scotland!

> Flourish

MALCOLM

> We shall not spend a large expense of time
> Before we reckon with your several loves,
> And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
> Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
> In such an honour named. What's more to do,
> Which would be planted newly with the time,
> As calling home our exiled friends abroad
> That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
> Producing forth the cruel ministers
> Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,
> Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
> Took off her life; this, and what needful else
> That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
> We will perform in measure, time and place:
> So, thanks to all at once and to each one,
> Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.

> Flourish. Exeunt