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 our 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.

Macd. What should he be?

Mal. 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.

Macd. Not in the legions

Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd

In evils to top Macbeth.

Mal. I grant him bloody,

equivocal so quierenle

Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeding 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.

Mal. 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.

Macd. O Scotland! Scotland!

Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak ·

I am as I have spoken.

Macd. Fit to govern!

No, not to live.-- O nation miserable!

With an untitled tyrant, bloody-sceptred,

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!

Mal. 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 L
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:

533

h

(

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.

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, pitifu.. 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.

Macd. See, who comes here?

Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not.

Enter ROSSE.

Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

Mal. I know him now:-good God, betimes remove The means that make us strangers!

Rosse. Sir, amen.

Macd. Stands Scotland where it did?

Rosse. 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 2

Is there scarce ask'd, for whom; and good men's lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps,
Dying or ere they sicken.

Macd. O, relation

Too nice, and yet too true!

Mal. What is the newest grief?

Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker; Each minute teems a new one. 2,

Macd. How does my wife?

Rosse. Why, well.

Macd. And all my children? Rosse. Well too.

си

Let's make us medicines 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!-All?>
What, all my pretty chickens and their dam
At one fell swoop?

Mal. Dispute it like a man.

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

Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue!-But, gentle heaven,
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!

Mal. 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.

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

SCENE 1.-DUNSINANE. A Room in the Castle. Enter a Doctor of Physic and a waiting Gentlewoman

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

Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

Doct. 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?

Gent. That, Sir, which I will not report after her. Doct. You may to me; and 'tis most meet you should. Gent. 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. Doct. How came she by that light?

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

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

3CENE V.]

Cath. Well, march we on,

To give obedience where 'tis truly owed:
Meet we the medecin of the sickly weal;

And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
Each drop of us.

Len. 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.
Mach Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
MI cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
All mortal consequents pronounced me thus,--
"Fear not, Macbeth; no man that 's born of woman,
Shall e'er have power on 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.c

Enter a Servant.

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

Serv. There is ten thousand-
Macb. Geese, villain?

Serv. Soldiers, Sir.

Mach. 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?
Serv. The English force, so please you.
Macb. Take thy face hence.-[Exit Serv.] 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 gear, 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, but dare not.
Seyton !

Enter SEYTON.

Sey. What is your gracious pleasure!

Macb. What news more?

Sey. 'Tis not needed yet.

Macb. I'll put it on.

SCENE V-DUNSINANE.

Within the Castle.

Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SYTON, and Soldiers.

Mach 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 le 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. What is that noise? [A cry within of women.

Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Macb. 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 slaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.-Wherefore was that cry!
Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.

Macb. 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 com'st to use thy tongue; thy story, quickly. Mess. Gracious my lord,

I should report that which I say I saw,

But know not how to do it.

Macb. Well, say, Sir.

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

Macb. Liar and slave!

[Striking him

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

Macb. 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.

e

'teem'

Exeunt.

Enter Young SIWARD.

Yo. Siw. What is thy name?

Mach. Thou 'lt be afraid to hear it.

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

Macb. My name's Macbeth.

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

Macb. No, nor more fearful.

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

[They fight, and Young SIWARD is slain. Macb. Thou wast born of woman.But swords I smile at. weapons laugh to scorn, Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.

Alarums. Enter MACDUFF.

[Exit.

Macd. That way the noise is.-Tyrant, shew 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 kernes, 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. Alarum.
Enter MALCOLM and Old SIWARD.
Siw. This way, my lord;-the castle 's gently ren-
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.

Mal. We have met with foes

That strike beside us.

Siw. Enter, Sir, the castle.

[der'd:

[Exeunt. Alarum.

I bear a charmed life, which must not yield To one of woman born.

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

Mach. 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.
Macd. Then yield thee, coward, 원

And live to be the show and gaze o' the time.
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole, and underwrit,
"Here may you see the tyrant."
Macb. I'll 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
throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macduff;
And damn'd be he that first cries, "Hold, enough!"

вечири

Halk,

[Exeunt, fighting Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, Old SIWARD, ROSSE, LENOX. ANGUS, CATHNESS, MENTETH, and Soldiers. Mal. I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

Mal. Macduff is missing, and your noble son. Rosse. 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.

Siw. Then he is dead?

Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of Must not be measured by his worth, for then [sorrow

It hath no end.

Siw Had he his hurts before?

Rosse. Ay, on the front.

Siw. Why then, God's soldier be he! ad I as many sons as I have hairs,

would not wish them to a fairer death:

And so his knell is knoll'd.

Mal. He's worth more sorrow,

And that I'll spend for him.

Siw. He's worth no more:

ん

They say he parted well, and paid his score:
So, God be with him!-Here comes newer comfort.

Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head on a pole.
Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where
The usurper's cursed head: the time is free: [stands
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. King of Scotland, hail!

[Flourish.

Mal. 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 Kerunt

What, is Horatio there?

Hor. A piece of him.

Who is

[there?

[Exit FRANCISCO

Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus.
Hor. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?
Ber. I have seen nothing.

Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy;
And will not let belief take hold of him,
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:
Therefore I have entreated him along
With us to watch the minutes of this night;
That, if again this apparition come,
He may approve our eyes, and speak to it.
Hor. Tush! tush! 'twill not appear.
Ber. Sit down awhile;

And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,

What we two nights have seen.

Hor. Well, sit we down,

Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form,

In which the majesty of buried Denmark

Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak. Mar. It is offended.

Ber. See! it stalks away.

Hor. Stay; speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!

[Exit Ghost.

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer. Ber. How now, Horatio! you tremble, and look pale: Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you of it?

Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch

Of mine own eyes.

Mar. Is it not like the king?

Hor. As thou art to thyself:

Such was the very armour he had on

When he the ambitious Norway combated;

So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,

He smote the sledded Polack on the ice. 'Tis strange.

Mar. Thus, twice before, and jumpat this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.

Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not; But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion,

This bodes some strange eruption to our state.

Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows
Why this same strict and most observant watch
So nightly toils the subject of the land?
Any why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
And foreign mart for implements of war;

Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
Does not divide the Sunday from the week:
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
Doth make the night joint labourer with the day;
Who is 't that can inform me?

Hor. Than can I;

At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet
(For so this side of our known world esteem'd him)
Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact,
Well ratified by law and heraldry,

Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands
Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror:
Against the which, a moiety competent
Was gagèd by our king; which had return'd

To the inheritance of Fortinbras,

Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same co-mart,

And carriage of the article designed,

His fell to Hamlet: now, Sir, young Fortinbras,
Of unimproved mettle hot and full,

Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,
Shark'd up a list of landless resolutes,
For food and diet, to some enterprise
That hath a stomach in't: which is no other
(As it doth well appear unto our state)
But to recover of us, by strong hand

And terms compulsatory, those 'foresaid lands
So by his father lost and this, I take it,

Is the main motive of our preparations;

The source of this our watch; and the chief head Of this post-haste and romage in the land.