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 caldron ? and what noise is this? [Hautboys. 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; BANQUO following. Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down! Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs :-And thy hair, Why do you show me this?-A fourth ?-Start, eyes! 1 Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so :-But why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? a Noise. This is the music of the hautboys, the word noise being synonymous with the sound of instruments. It was so little understood, even by John Kemble, that under his management a shriek was here heard. b Hair. This is the original word; but the modern reading is air. Monck Mason acutely defends the old reading: "It implies that their hair was of the same colour, which is more likely to mark a family likeness than the air, which depends on habit." • Blood-bolter'd.-Bolter'd is a word of the midland counties, meaning begrimed, besmeared. Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites, Our duties did his welcome pay. [Music. The Witches dance, and vanish. Macb. Where are they? Gone?-Let this pernicious hour Stand aye accursed in the calendar! Come in, without there! 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. "T is two or three, my lord, that bring you word, Macduff is fled to England. Macb. Fled to England? Len. Ay, my good lord. 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; Sei ze upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword This deed I'll do before this No boasting like a fool; purpose cool: But no more sights!-Where are these gentlemen? [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Fife. A Room in Macduff's Castle. Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and Rosse. Lady Macd. What had he done to make him fly the land? Rosse. You must have patience, madam. L. Macd. He had none : His flight was madness: When our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors. Rosse. You know not Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear. L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion, and his titles, in a place From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; Rosse. My dearest coz, The fits o' the season. I dare not speak much further: And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumour Each way, and move.-I take my leave of you: Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward 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. Sirrah, your father 's dead; And what will you do now? Son. As birds do, mother. [Exit Rosse. How will you live? 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, 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? Son. What is a traitor? L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies. Son. And be all traitors that do so? L. Macd. Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged. Son. And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? L. Macd. Every one. Son. Who must hang them? L. Macd. Why, the honest men. Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools for there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men, and hang up 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 talkest! Enter a Messenger. Mess. Bless you, fair dame! am not to you known, Though in your state of honour I am perfect. Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you! L. Macd. Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. But I remember now What are these faces? Enter Murderers. Mur. Where is your husband? L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified, Mur. He's a traitor. What, you egg! [Stabbing him. He has kill'd me, mother: pray you. [Dies. Young fry of treachery! Son. Run away, [Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying "Murder," and pursued by the Murderers. a Shag-ear'd.-This should be probably shag hair'd, a form of abuse found in old plays, and even in law reports. |