All.

Listen, but speak not to 't. App. 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.

Macb.

[Descends.

That will never be:

Who can impress the forest? bid the tree

Unfix his earth-bound root? sweet bodements! good!
Rebellion's head, rise never, till the wood

Of Birnam rise; and our high-plac'd Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing: tell me, (if your art
Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?

All.

Seek to know no more.

Macb. I will be satisfied: deny me this,

And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know Why sinks that cauldron ? and what noise is this? [Hautboys.

All. Shew his eyes, and grieve his heart! Come like shadows, so depart.

An Apparition of eight Kings and BANQUO, who pass over in order; the last King bearing a mirror.

Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo:

Why do you shew me this? — A fourth? — Start,

eyes!

What! will the line stretch out to th' crack of

doom?

Another yet? — A seventh?
A seventh? I'll see no more:

And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
Which shews me many more; and some I see,
That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry.
Horrible sight!-Now, I see, 'tis true;

For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his. -What! is this so?

1 Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so: but why

Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?

Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,
And shew 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 vanish. Gone? - Let this per

Macb. Where are they? Gone?

nicious hour

Stand aye accursed in the calendar!

Come in without there!

Macb. 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?

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

Macb.

Len. Ay, my good lord.

Fled to England?

Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits: The flighty purpose never is o'ertook,

Unless the deed go with it. From this moment,

The very firstlings of my heart shall be

The firstlings of my hand. And even now,

To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and

done :

The castle of Macduff I will surprise;

Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' th' 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 sprites. Where are these gentlemen? Come; bring me where they are.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Fife. A Room in MACDUFF's Castle.

Enter Lady MACDUFF, her Son, and Rosse.

Lady Macduff. What had he done to make him fly the land?

Rosse. You must have patience, Madam.

L. Macd.

He had none :

His flight was madness. When our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.

Rosse.

You know not

Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.

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

babes,

His mansion, and his titles, in a place

From whence himself does fly? He loves us not: He wants the natural touch; for the poor wren,

The most diminutive of birds, will fight,

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.

My dearest coz,

Rosse.
I pray you, school yourself: but, for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
The fits o' th' season. I dare not speak much farther:
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 up

ward

To what they were before.

Blessing upon you!

My pretty cousin,

L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace and your discomfort.

I take my leave at once.

L. Macd.

[Exit RossE.

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

Son. As birds do, mother.

L. Macd.

Son.

What, with worms and flies?

With what I get, I mean ; and so do

they.

L. Macd. Poor bird! thou'd'st never fear the net,

nor lime,

The pit-fall, nor the gin.

Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are

not set for.

My father is not dead, for all your saying.

L. Macd. Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband?

L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.

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

L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit;
And yet, i' faith, with wit enough for thee.
Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?
L. Macd. Ay, that he was.

Son. What is a traitor?

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

L. Macd. Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hang'd.

Son. And must they all be hang'd that swear and lie ?

L. Macd. Every one.

Son. Who must hang them?

L. Macd. Why, the honest men.

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

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

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

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

Enter a Messenger.

Messenger. Bless you, fair dame. I am not to you known,