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Enter MACBETH.

Good morrow, both!

Len. Good morrow, noble sir!

Macb.

Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane?
Macb.

Not yet.

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

Macb.

I'll bring you to him.

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

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

Macd.

I'll make so bold to call,

For 'tis my limited service.

Len. Goes the king hence to-day?

Macb. He does :-he did appoint so.

[Exit MACDUFf.

Len. 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 confus'd events,

New hatch'd to the woeful time,

The obscure bird clamour'd the live-long night:

Some say the earth was feverous, and did shake.'
Macb. "Twas a rough night.

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

Re-enter MACDUFF.

Macd. O horror! horror! horror!

Tongue, nor heart, cannot conceive, nor name thee!
Macb., Len. What's the matter?

Macd. Confusion now hath made his master-piece!
Most sacrilegious murther hath broke ope

The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence

The life o' the building.

Macb.

What is't you say? the life?

Len. Mean you his majesty?

Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon :-Do not bid me speak;

(1) The night has been unruly, &c. In "Julius Cæsar" allusion is made to the prevalent opinion that the death of kings and great men was preceded by portentous signs such as are here enumerated. Perhaps this opinion was founded on something better than superstition; we believe it is a historical fact, undisputed, that the night on which the usurper Oliver Cromwell died was attended by one of the most fearful storms of wind, thunder and lightning, that any age before or since ever witnessed.

See, and then speak yourselves.-Awake! awake!
[Exeunt MACBETH and LENOX.

Ring the alarum-bell :-Murther! 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.

Enter LADY MACBETH.

Lady M. What's the business,

That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? speak, speak!
Macd.

"Tis not for you to hear what I can speak :
The repetition, in a woman's ear,

Would murther as it fell.

Enter BANQUO.

[Bell rings.

O, gentle lady,

O Banquo! Banquo! our royal master's murther'd!
Lady M. Woe, alas! what, in our house?
Ban.

Dear Duff, I prithee contradict thyself,
And say, it is not so.

Too cruel, anywhere.

Re-enter MACBETH and LENOX.

Macb. Had I but died an hour before this chance,
I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant,
There's nothing serious in mortality :1

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.

You are, and do not know 't,

your

Don. What is amiss?
Macb.
The spring, the head: the fountain of blood
Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.
Macd. Your royal father's murther'd.
Mal.

O, by whom?

Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done 't:
Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood,
So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found
Upon their pillows: they star'd, and were distracted;
No man's life was to be trusted with them.

(1) There's nothing serious in mortality. Serious is here used for valuable; the meaning is, "there is nothing in life worth anything, or worth caring for.

Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury,

That I did kill them.

Macd.

Wherefore did you so?

Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and furious, Loyal, and neutral, in a moment? No man :

The expedition of my violent love

Outran the pauser reason.-Here lay Duncan,
His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood ;

And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature
For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murtherers,
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly breech'd with gore:1 Who could refrain
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage to make his love known?

Lady M.

Macd. Look to the lady.

Mal.

Help me hence, hoa!

Why do we hold our tongues,

That most may claim this argument for ours?
Don. 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.

Mal.

Nor our strong sorrow

Upon the foot of motion.

Ban.

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And when we have our naked frailties hid,2
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 undivulg'd pretence I fight

Of treasonous malice.

Macd.

All.

And so do I.

So all.

Macb. Let's briefly put on manly readiness,

And meet i' the hall together.

All. Well contented.

[Exeunt all but MAL. and DON

Mal. 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.

Don. To Ireland, I; our separated fortune

Shall keep us both the safer: where we are,

(1) Breech'd with gore, i. e. covered with blood.

(2) And when we have our naked frailties hid, i. e. when we have clothed our bodies; which, from our being aroused from our sleep, are half naked.

There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood,
The nearer bloody.1
Mal.
This murtherous shaft that's shot
Hath not yet lighted; 2 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.

SCENE IV. Without the Castle.

Enter ROSSE and an Old Man.

Old M. 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.

Rosse.

Ah, good father,

Thou see'st, 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 intomb,
When living light should kiss it?

Old M.

'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.

[Exit.

Rosse. 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 M.

Rosse. They did so; That look'd upon't.

'Tis said, they eat each other. to the amazement of mine eyes, Here comes the good Macduff:

Enter MACDuff.

How goes the world, sir, now?

Macd. Why, see you not?

Rosse. Is 't known who did this more than bloody deed? Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slain.

Rosse.

Alas, the day!

What good could they pretend?

(1) The near in blood, the nearer bloody. A suspicion is here intended that Macbeth, Duncan's near kinsman, has done the bloody deed.

(2) This murtherous shaft that's shot hath not yet lighted, i. e. the murderer's full intent is not yet attained: we may fall next.

Macd.

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.

Rosse.

'Gainst nature still:

Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up

Thine own life's means!-Then 'tis most like
The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.

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

Rosse.

Where is Duncan's body?

Macd. Carried to Colmes-kill;

The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
And guardian of their bones.

Rosse.

Will you to Scone?

Well, I will thither.

Macd. No, cousin, I'll to Fife.

Rosse.

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

Rosse. Farewell, father.

Old M. 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.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter BANQUO.

Ban. Thou hast it now, king, Cawdor, Glamis, all,

As the weird women promis'd; 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.

Senet sounded. Enter MACBETH, as King; LADY MACBETH, as Queen; LENOX, Rosse, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants.

Macb. Here's our chief guest.

Lady M.

If he had been forgotten

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

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