I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
And that, distill'd by magic slights,
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
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear:
And you all know, security

Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

Song. [Within.] Come away, come away, &c. Hark, I am call'd; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Exit. 1 Witch. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI. Fores. A room in the palace. En

ter Lenox and another Lord.

Len. 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 it 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 it. So that, I say,
He has borne all things well: and I do think,
That, had he Duncan's sons under his key
(As, an't please heaven, he shall not,) they should

find

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

fail'd

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

Lord.

The son of Duncan,
From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
Lives in the English court; and is 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, on his aid
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward:
That by the help of these (with Him above
To ratify the work,) we may again

Give to our table 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.

Len.

I,

Sent he to Macduff?
Lord. He did: and with an absolute, Sir, not
The cloudy messenger turns me his back,
And hums; as who should say, You'll rue the time
That clogs me with this answer.
Len.
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

(1) Honours freely bestowed.
(2) For exasperated

SCENE I-A dark cave. In the middle a caul
dron boiling. Thunder. Enter three Witches.
1 Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
2 Witch. Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin'd
3 Witch. Harper cries:-'Tis time, 'tis time
1 Witch. Round about the cauldron go;

In the poison'd entrails throw.-
Toad, that under coldest stone,
Days and nights hast thirty-one
Swelter'd' venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i'the charmed pot!

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

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

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

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

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

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

LL

Enter Hecate, and the other three Witches.
Hec. O, well done! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i'the gains.
And now about the cauldron sing,
Like elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.

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

2 Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes:-
Open, locks, whoever knocks.

Macb. I conjure you, by that which you profess, (Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me: Though you untie the winds, and let them fight Against the churches; though the yesty' waves Confound and swallow navigation up; Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown down ;

Macb.

[Descends.

Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him.
That will never be;
Who can impress the forest; bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? sweet bodements! good!
Rebellious head, rise never, till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time, and mortal custom.-Yet my heart
trea-Throbs to know one thing; Tell me, (if your art
Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?
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.

Though castles topple3 on their warders' heads;
Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope
Their heads to their foundations; though the

We'll answer.

1 Witch. Say, if thou'd'st rather hear it from our mouths,

Come, high, or low;

Thyself, and office, deftly show.

Thunder. An Apparition of an armed Head rises.
Macb. Tell me, thou unknown power,――
1 Witch.
He knows thy thought;
Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware
Macduff;

All.

1 Witch. Show!

2 Witch. Show!

3 Witch. Show!

All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
Come like shadows, so depart.

Eight Kings appear, and pass over the stage in
order; the last with a glass in his hand; Ban-
quo following.

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

Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls:-And thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first:-
A third is like the former :-Filthy hags!
Why do you show me this?-A fourth?-Start, eyes!
What! will the line stretch out to the crack of

doom ?10

Beware the thane of Fife.-Dismiss me:-Enough. Another yet?-A seventh ?-I'll see no more:[Descends. And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass, Macb. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, Which shows me many more; and some

thanks;

Thou hast harp'de my fear aright:-But one word

more:

1 Witch. He will not be commanded: Here's another,

More potent than the first.

see,

That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry :
Horrible sight!-Ay, 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 sprights, 12

Thunder. An Apparition of a bloody Child rises. And show the best of our delights;

App.
Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee.
App.
Be bloody, bold,
And resolute: laugh to scorn the power of man,
For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth.

Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!-I'll charm the air to give a sound,

[Descends.

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

But yet I'll make assurance doubly sure,
And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lies,
And sleep in spite of thunder.-What is this,

Thunder. An Apparition of a Child crowned, with
a tree in his hand, rises.

That rises like the issue of a king;

And wears upon his baby brow the round
And top of sovereignty ?"

Listen, but speak not.

Macb. Came they not by you?
Len.
No, indeed, my lord.
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,

(7) The round is that part of a crown which encircles the head: the top is the ornament which rises above it.

(8) Who can command the forest to serve him like a soldier impressed?

(9) Music. (10) The dissolution of nature.
(11) Besmeared with blood. (12) i. e. Spirits

༡༤༢༩

Macduff is fled to England.
Macb.

Fled to England?

Len. Ay, my good lord.
Macb. Time thou anticipat'st' my dread ex-
ploits :

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

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

The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o'the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace his line. No boasting like a fool;
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool:
But no more sights!-Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are.
SCENE II-Fife. A room in Macduff's castle.
Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Rosse.
L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly
the land?

[Exeunt.

He had none:

Rosse. You must have patience, madam.
L. Macd.
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 :4 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.

Rosse.

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 up-
ward

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

5

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.
[Exit Rosse.
L. Macd.
Sirrah, your father's dead;
And what will you do now? How will you live?
Son. As birds do, mother.
L. Macd.
What, with worms and flies?
Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
L. Macd. Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the net,

nor lime,

The pit-fall, nor the gin.

Son. Why should I, motner? Poor birds they
are not set for.

My father is not dead, for all your saying.

(1) Preventest, by taking away the opportunity.
(2) Follow.

(3) i. e. Our flight is considered as evidence of

our treason.

Act IV.

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;
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?

and

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

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 enough to beat the honest men, and hang up them.

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

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.

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

Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
I doubt, some danger does approach you nearly:
If you 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

Son. Thou ly'st, thou shag-ear'd villain.
Mur.

Young fry of treachery?

Run away, I pray you.
Son.

What, you egg? [Stabbing him.

He has killed me, mother;

[Dies.

[Exit Lady Macduff, crying murder,
and pursued by the Murderers.

SCENE III.-England.-A room in the King's
palace. Enter Malcolm and Macduff.
Mal. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and
there

(4) Natural affection.

of reproach.
(5) Sirrah was not in our author's time a term

(6) I am perfectly acquainted with your rank.

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.

Mal.
What I believe, I'll wail;
What know, believe; and, what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend,2 I will.
What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongue,
Was once thought honest: you have lov'd him well;
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but
something

You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,
To appease an angry god.

Macd. I am not treacherous.
Mal.

A good and virtuous nature may recoil,
In an imperial charge. But '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

(3) i. e. A good mind may recede from goodness in the execution of a royal commission.

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,
All ready at a point, was setting forth:
Now we'll together; And the chance, of goodness,
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at

once,

'Tis hard to reconcile.

Enter a Doctor.

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

Doct. Ay, sír: 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,

Mal.

Each minute teems a new one.
Macd.
Rosse. Why, well.

How does my wife?

Well too.

And all my children?

Macd.
Rosse.
Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?
Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did
leave them.

Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; How
goes it?

Rosse. 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.

Mal.
Be it their comfort,
We are coming thither: gracious England hath
Lent us good Siward, and ten thousand men;
An older, and a better soldier, none,
That Christendom gives out.

Rosse.

"Would I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words, That would be howl'd out in the desert air,

What concern they?

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

Rosse.

I thank you, doctor. [Ex. Doct. Where hearing should not latch them.
Macd. What is the disease he means?
Mal.
'Tis call'd the evil:
A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which often since my here-remain in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures ;
Hanging a golden stamp3 about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves

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

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.

Macd.

If it be mine,

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

ever,

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

Macd.

Humph! I guess at it. Rosse. Your castle is surpris'd; your wife, and

What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak,
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
Macd. My children too?
Rosse.

That could be found.
Macd.
My wife kill'd too?
Rosse.
Mal.

Wife, children, servants, all

And I must be from thence!

I have said.

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

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

Mal. Dispute it like a man.
Macd.

But I must also feel it as a man:

I shall do so;

I cannot but remember such things were,