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1606 |
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THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH |
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by William Shakespeare |
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Dramatis Personae |
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DUNCAN, King of Scotland |
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MACBETH, Thane of Glamis and Cawdor, a general in the King's |
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army |
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LADY MACBETH, his wife |
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MACDUFF, Thane of Fife, a nobleman of Scotland |
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LADY MACDUFF, his wife |
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MALCOLM, elder son of Duncan |
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DONALBAIN, younger son of Duncan |
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BANQUO, Thane of Lochaber, a general in the King's army |
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FLEANCE, his son |
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LENNOX, nobleman of Scotland |
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ROSS, nobleman of Scotland |
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MENTEITH nobleman of Scotland |
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ANGUS, nobleman of Scotland |
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CAITHNESS, nobleman of Scotland |
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SIWARD, Earl of Northumberland, general of the English forces |
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YOUNG SIWARD, his son |
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SEYTON, attendant to Macbeth |
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HECATE, Queen of the Witches |
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The Three Witches |
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Boy, Son of Macduff |
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Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth |
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An English Doctor |
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A Scottish Doctor |
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A Sergeant |
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A Porter |
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An Old Man |
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The Ghost of Banquo and other Apparitions |
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Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murtherers, Attendants, |
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and Messengers |
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<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM |
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SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS |
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PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY |
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SCENE: Scotland and England |
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ACT I. SCENE I. |
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A desert place. Thunder and lightning. |
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Enter three Witches. |
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FIRST WITCH. When shall we three meet again? |
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In thunder, lightning, or in rain? |
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SECOND WITCH. When the hurlyburly's done, |
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When the battle's lost and won. |
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THIRD WITCH. That will be ere the set of sun. |
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FIRST WITCH. Where the place? |
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SECOND WITCH. Upon the heath. |
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THIRD WITCH. There to meet with Macbeth. |
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FIRST WITCH. I come, Graymalkin. |
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ALL. Paddock calls. Anon! |
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Fair is foul, and foul is fair. |
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Hover through the fog and filthy air. Exeunt. |
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SCENE II. |
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A camp near Forres. Alarum within. |
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Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants, |
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meeting a bleeding Sergeant. |
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DUNCAN. What bloody man is that? He can report, |
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As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt |
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The newest state. |
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MALCOLM. This is the sergeant |
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Who like a good and hardy soldier fought |
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'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend! |
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Say to the King the knowledge of the broil |
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As thou didst leave it. |
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SERGEANT. Doubtful it stood, |
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As two spent swimmers that do cling together |
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And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald- |
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Worthy to be a rebel, for to that |
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The multiplying villainies of nature |
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Do swarm upon him -from the Western Isles |
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Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; |
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And Fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, |
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Show'd like a rebel's whore. But all's too weak; |
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For brave Macbeth -well he deserves that name- |
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Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish'd steel, |
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Which smoked with bloody execution, |
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Like Valor's minion carved out his passage |
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Till he faced the slave, |
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Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, |
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Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps, |
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And fix'd his head upon our battlements. |
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DUNCAN. O valiant cousin! Worthy gentleman! |
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SERGEANT. As whence the sun 'gins his reflection |
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Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, |
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So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come |
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Discomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark. |
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No sooner justice had, with valor arm'd, |
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Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels, |
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But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, |
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With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men, |
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Began a fresh assault. |
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DUNCAN. Dismay'd not this |
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Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo.? |
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SERGEANT. Yes, |
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As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion. |
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If I say sooth, I must report they were |
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As cannons overcharged with double cracks, |
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So they |
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Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe. |
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Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, |
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Or memorize another Golgotha, |
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I cannot tell- |
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But I am faint; my gashes cry for help. |
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DUNCAN. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds; |
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They smack of honor both. Go get him surgeons. |
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Exit Sergeant, attended. |
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Who comes here? |
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Enter Ross. |
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MALCOLM The worthy Thane of Ross. |
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LENNOX. What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look |
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That seems to speak things strange. |
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ROSS. God save the King! |
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DUNCAN. Whence camest thou, worthy Thane? |
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ROSS. From Fife, great King, |
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Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky |
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And fan our people cold. |
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Norway himself, with terrible numbers, |
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Assisted by that most disloyal traitor |
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The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict, |
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Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof, |
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Confronted him with self-comparisons, |
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Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm, |
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Curbing his lavish spirit; and, to conclude, |
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The victory fell on us. |
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DUNCAN. Great happiness! |
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ROSS. That now |
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Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition; |
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Nor would we deign him burial of his men |
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Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme's Inch, |
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Ten thousand dollars to our general use. |
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DUNCAN. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive |
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Our bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death, |
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And with his former title greet Macbeth. |
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ROSS. I'll see it done. |
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DUNCAN. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. |
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Exeunt. |
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SCENE III. |
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A heath. Thunder. |
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Enter the three Witches. |
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FIRST WITCH. Where hast thou been, sister? |
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SECOND WITCH. Killing swine. |
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THIRD WITCH. Sister, where thou? |
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FIRST WITCH. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap, |
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And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd. "Give me," quoth I. |
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"Aroint thee, witch!" the rump-fed ronyon cries. |
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Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master the Tiger; |
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But in a sieve I'll thither sail, |
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And, like a rat without a tail, |
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I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do. |
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SECOND WITCH. I'll give thee a wind. |
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FIRST WITCH. Thou'rt kind. |
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THIRD WITCH. And I another. |
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FIRST WITCH. I myself have all the other, |
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And the very ports they blow, |
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All the quarters that they know |
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I' the shipman's card. |
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I will drain him dry as hay: |
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Sleep shall neither night nor day |
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Hang upon his penthouse lid; |
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He shall live a man forbid. |
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Weary se'nnights nine times nine |
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Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine; |
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Though his bark cannot be lost, |
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Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd. |
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Look what I have. |
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SECOND WITCH. Show me, show me. |
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FIRST WITCH. Here I have a pilot's thumb, |
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Wreck'd as homeward he did come. Drum within. |
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THIRD WITCH. A drum, a drum! |
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Macbeth doth come. |
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ALL. The weird sisters, hand in hand, |
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Posters of the sea and land, |
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Thus do go about, about, |
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Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, |
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And thrice again, to make up nine. |
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Peace! The charm's wound up. |
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Enter Macbeth and Banquo. |
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MACBETH. So foul and fair a day I have not seen. |
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BANQUO. How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these |
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So wither'd and so wild in their attire, |
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That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, |
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And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught |
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That man may question? You seem to understand me, |
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By each at once her choppy finger laying |
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Upon her skinny lips. You should be women, |
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And yet your beards forbid me to interpret |
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That you are so. |
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MACBETH. Speak, if you can. What are you? |
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FIRST WITCH. All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! |
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SECOND WITCH. All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! |
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THIRD WITCH. All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter! |
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BANQUO. Good sir, why do you start, and seem to fear |
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Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth, |
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Are ye fantastical or that indeed |
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Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner |
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You greet with present grace and great prediction |
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Of noble having and of royal hope, |
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That he seems rapt withal. To me you speak not. |
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If you can look into the seeds of time, |
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And say which grain will grow and which will not, |
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Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear |
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Your favors nor your hate. |
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FIRST WITCH. Hail! |
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SECOND WITCH. Hail! |
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THIRD WITCH. Hail! |
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FIRST WITCH. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. |
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SECOND WITCH. Not so happy, yet much happier. |
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THIRD WITCH. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none. |
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So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! |
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FIRST WITCH. Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! |
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MACBETH. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more. |
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By Sinel's death I know I am Thane of Glamis; |
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But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives, |
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A prosperous gentleman; and to be King |
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Stands not within the prospect of belief, |
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No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence |
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You owe this strange intelligence, or why |
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Upon this blasted heath you stop our way |
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With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you. |
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Witches vanish. |
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BANQUO. The earth hath bubbles as the water has, |
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And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd? |
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MACBETH. Into the air, and what seem'd corporal melted |
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As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd! |
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BANQUO. Were such things here as we do speak about? |
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Or have we eaten on the insane root |
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That takes the reason prisoner? |
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MACBETH. Your children shall be kings. |
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BANQUO. You shall be King. |
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MACBETH. And Thane of Cawdor too. Went it not so? |
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BANQUO. To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here? |
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Enter Ross and Angus. |
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ROSS. The King hath happily received, Macbeth, |
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The news of thy success; and when he reads |
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Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight, |
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His wonders and his praises do contend |
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Which should be thine or his. Silenced with that, |
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In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day, |
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He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, |
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Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, |
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Strange images of death. As thick as hail |
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Came post with post, and every one did bear |
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Thy praises in his kingdom's great defense, |
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And pour'd them down before him. |
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ANGUS. We are sent |
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To give thee, from our royal master, thanks; |
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Only to herald thee into his sight, |
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Not pay thee. |
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ROSS. And for an earnest of a greater honor, |
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He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor. |
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In which addition, hail, most worthy Thane, |
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For it is thine. |
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BANQUO. What, can the devil speak true? |
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MACBETH. The Thane of Cawdor lives. Why do you dress me |
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In borrow'd robes? |
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ANGUS. Who was the Thane lives yet, |
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But under heavy judgement bears that life |
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Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined |
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With those of Norway, or did line the rebel |
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With hidden help and vantage, or that with both |
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He labor'd in his country's wreck, I know not; |
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But treasons capital, confess'd and proved, |
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Have overthrown him. |
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MACBETH. [Aside.] Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor! |
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The greatest is behind. [To Ross and Angus] Thanks for your |
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pains. |
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[Aside to Banquo] Do you not hope your children shall be |
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kings, |
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When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me |
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Promised no less to them? |
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BANQUO. [Aside to Macbeth.] That, trusted home, |
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Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, |
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Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange; |
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And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, |
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The instruments of darkness tell us truths, |
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Win us with honest trifles, to betray's |
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In deepest consequence- |
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Cousins, a word, I pray you. |
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MACBETH. [Aside.] Two truths are told, |
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As happy prologues to the swelling act |
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Of the imperial theme-I thank you, gentlemen. |
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[Aside.] This supernatural soliciting |
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Cannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill, |
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Why hath it given me earnest of success, |
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Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. |
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If good, why do I yield to that suggestion |
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Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair |
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And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, |
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Against the use of nature? Present fears |
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Are less than horrible imaginings: |
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My thought, whose murther yet is but fantastical, |
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Shakes so my single state of man that function |
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Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is |
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But what is not. |
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BANQUO. Look, how our partner's rapt. |
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MACBETH. [Aside.] If chance will have me King, why, chance may |
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crown me |
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Without my stir. |
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BANQUO. New honors come upon him, |
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Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould |
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But with the aid of use. |
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MACBETH. [Aside.] Come what come may, |
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Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. |
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BANQUO. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. |
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MACBETH. Give me your favor; my dull brain was wrought |
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With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains |
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Are register'd where every day I turn |
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The leaf to read them. Let us toward the King. |
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Think upon what hath chanced, and at more time, |
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The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak |
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Our free hearts each to other. |
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BANQUO. Very gladly. |
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MACBETH. Till then, enough. Come, friends. Exeunt. |
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SCENE IV. |
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Forres. The palace. |
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Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, and |
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Attendants. |
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DUNCAN. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not |
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Those in commission yet return'd? |
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MALCOLM. My liege, |
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They are not yet come back. But I have spoke |
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With one that saw him die, who did report |
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That very frankly he confess'd his treasons, |
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Implored your Highness' pardon, and set forth |
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A deep repentance. Nothing in his life |
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Became him like the leaving it; he died |
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As one that had been studied in his death, |
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To throw away the dearest thing he owed |
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As 'twere a careless trifle. |
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DUNCAN. There's no art |
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To find the mind's construction in the face: |
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He was a gentleman on whom I built |
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An absolute trust. |
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Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Ross, and Angus. |
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O worthiest cousin! |
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The sin of my ingratitude even now |
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Was heavy on me. Thou art so far before, |
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That swiftest wing of recompense is slow |
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To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved, |
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That the proportion both of thanks and payment |
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Might have been mine! Only I have left to say, |
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More is thy due than more than all can pay. |
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MACBETH. The service and the loyalty lowe, |
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In doing it, pays itself. Your Highness' part |
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Is to receive our duties, and our duties |
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Are to your throne and state, children and servants, |
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Which do but what they should, by doing everything |
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Safe toward your love and honor. |
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DUNCAN. Welcome hither. |
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I have begun to plant thee, and will labor |
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To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, |
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That hast no less deserved, nor must be known |
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No less to have done so; let me infold thee |
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And hold thee to my heart. |
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BANQUO. There if I grow, |
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The harvest is your own. |
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DUNCAN. My plenteous joys, |
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Wanton in fullness, seek to hide themselves |
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In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes, |
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And you whose places are the nearest, know |
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We will establish our estate upon |
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Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter |
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The Prince of Cumberland; which honor must |
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Not unaccompanied invest him only, |
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But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine |
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On all deservers. From hence to Inverness, |
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And bind us further to you. |
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MACBETH. The rest is labor, which is not used for you. |
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I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful |
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The hearing of my wife with your approach; |
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So humbly take my leave. |
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DUNCAN. My worthy Cawdor! |
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MACBETH. [Aside.] The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step |
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On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, |
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For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; |
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Let not light see my black and deep desires. |
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The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be |
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Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. Exit. |
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DUNCAN. True, worthy Banquo! He is full so valiant, |
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And in his commendations I am fed; |
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It is a banquet to me. Let's after him, |
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Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome. |
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It is a peerless kinsman. Flourish. Exeunt. |
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SCENE V. |
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Inverness. Macbeth's castle. |
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Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter. |
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LADY MACBETH. "They met me in the day of success, and I have |
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learned by the perfectest report they have more in them than |
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mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them |
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further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. |
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Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from |
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the |
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King, who all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor'; by which title, |
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before, these weird sisters saluted me and referred me to the |
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coming on of time with 'Hail, King that shalt be!' This have |
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I |
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thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of |
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greatness, |
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that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being |
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ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy |
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heart, |
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and farewell." |
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Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be |
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What thou art promised. Yet do I fear thy nature. |
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It is too full o' the milk of human kindness |
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To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great; |
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Art not without ambition, but without |
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The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly, |
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That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, |
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And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou'ldst have, great Glamis, |
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That which cries, "Thus thou must do, if thou have it; |
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And that which rather thou dost fear to do |
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Than wishest should be undone." Hie thee hither, |
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That I may pour my spirits in thine ear, |
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And chastise with the valor of my tongue |
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All that impedes thee from the golden round, |
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Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem |
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To have thee crown'd withal. |
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Enter a Messenger. |
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What is your tidings? |
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MESSENGER. The King comes here tonight. |
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LADY MACBETH. Thou'rt mad to say it! |
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Is not thy master with him? who, were't so, |
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Would have inform'd for preparation. |
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MESSENGER. So please you, it is true; our Thane is coming. |
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One of my fellows had the speed of him, |
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Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more |
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Than would make up his message. |
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LADY MACBETH. Give him tending; |
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He brings great news. Exit Messenger. |
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The raven himself is hoarse |
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That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan |
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Under my battlements. Come, you spirits |
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That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here |
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And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full |
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Of direst cruelty! Make thick my blood, |
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Stop up the access and passage to remorse, |
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That no compunctious visitings of nature |
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Shake my fell purpose nor keep peace between |
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The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, |
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And take my milk for gall, your murthering ministers, |
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Wherever in your sightless substances |
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You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, |
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And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell |
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That my keen knife see not the wound it makes |
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Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark |
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To cry, "Hold, hold!" |
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Enter Macbeth. |
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Great Glamis! Worthy Cawdor! |
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Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! |
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Thy letters have transported me beyond |
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This ignorant present, and I feel now |
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The future in the instant. |
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MACBETH. My dearest love, |
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Duncan comes here tonight. |
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LADY MACBETH. And when goes hence? |
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MACBETH. Tomorrow, as he purposes. |
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LADY MACBETH. O, never |
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Shall sun that morrow see! |
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Your face, my Thane, is as a book where men |
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May read strange matters. To beguile the time, |
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Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, |
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Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower, |
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But be the serpent under it. He that's coming |
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Must be provided for; and you shall put |
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This night's great business into my dispatch, |
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Which shall to all our nights and days to come |
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Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. |
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MACBETH. We will speak further. |
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LADY MACBETH. Only look up clear; |
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To alter favor ever is to fear. |
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Leave all the rest to me. Exeunt. |
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SCENE VI. |
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Before Macbeth's castle. Hautboys and torches. |
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Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lennox, Macduff, Ross, |
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Angus, |
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and Attendants. |
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DUNCAN. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air |
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Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself |
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Unto our gentle senses. |
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BANQUO. This guest of summer, |
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The temple-haunting martlet, does approve |
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By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath |
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Smells wooingly here. No jutty, frieze, |
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Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird |
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Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle; |
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Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed |
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The air is delicate. |
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Enter Lady Macbeth. |
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DUNCAN. See, see, our honor'd hostess! |
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The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, |
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Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you |
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How you shall bid God 'ield us for your pains, |
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And thank us for your trouble. |
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LADY MACBETH. All our service |
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In every point twice done, and then done double, |
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Were poor and single business to contend |
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Against those honors deep and broad wherewith |
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Your Majesty loads our house. For those of old, |
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And the late dignities heap'd up to them, |
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We rest your hermits. |
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DUNCAN. Where's the Thane of Cawdor? |
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We coursed him at the heels and had a purpose |
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To be his purveyor; but he rides well, |
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And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him |
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To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, |
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We are your guest tonight. |
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LADY MACBETH. Your servants ever |
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Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt, |
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To make their audit at your Highness' pleasure, |
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Still to return your own. |
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DUNCAN. Give me your hand; |
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Conduct me to mine host. We love him highly, |
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And shall continue our graces towards him. |
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By your leave, hostess. Exeunt. |
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SCENE VII |
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Macbeth's castle. Hautboys and torches. |
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Enter a Sewer and divers Servants with dishes and service, who |
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pass over |
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the stage. Then enter Macbeth. |
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MACBETH. If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well |
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It were done quickly. If the assassination |
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Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, |
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With his surcease, success; that but this blow |
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Might be the be-all and the end-all -here, |
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But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, |
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We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases |
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We still have judgement here, that we but teach |
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Bloody instructions, which being taught return |
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To plague the inventor. This even-handed justice |
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Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice |
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To our own lips. He's here in double trust: |
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First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, |
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Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, |
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Who should against his murtherer shut the door, |
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Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan |
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Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been |
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So clear in his great office, that his virtues |
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Will plead like angels trumpet-tongued against |
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The deep damnation of his taking-off, |
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And pity, like a naked new-born babe |
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Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin horsed |
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Upon the sightless couriers of the air, |
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Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, |
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That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur |
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To prick the sides of my intent, but only |
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Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself |
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And falls on the other. |
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Enter Lady Macbeth. |
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How now, what news? |
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LADY MACBETH. He has almost supp'd. Why have you left the |
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chamber? |
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MACBETH. Hath he ask'd for me? |
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LADY MACBETH. Know you not he has? |
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MACBETH. We will proceed no further in this business: |
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He hath honor'd me of late, and I have bought |
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Golden opinions from all sorts of people, |
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Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, |
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Not cast aside so soon. |
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LADY MACBETH. Was the hope drunk |
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Wherein you dress'd yourself? Hath it slept since? |
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And wakes it now, to look so green and pale |
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At what it did so freely? From this time |
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Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard |
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To be the same in thine own act and valor |
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As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that |
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Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life |
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And live a coward in thine own esteem, |
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Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would" |
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Like the poor cat i' the adage? |
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MACBETH. Prithee, peace! |
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I dare do all that may become a man; |
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Who dares do more is none. |
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LADY MACBETH. What beast wast then |
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That made you break this enterprise to me? |
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When you durst do it, then you were a man, |
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And, to be more than what you were, you would |
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Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place |
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Did then adhere, and yet you would make both. |
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They have made themselves, and that their fitness now |
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Does unmake you. I have given suck and know |
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How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me- |
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I would, while it was smiling in my face, |
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Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums |
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And dash'd the brains out had I so sworn as you |
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Have done to this. |
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MACBETH. If we should fail? |
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LADY MACBETH. We fail? |
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But screw your courage to the sticking-place |
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And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep- |
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Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey |
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Soundly invite him- his two chamberlains |
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Will I with wine and wassail so convince |
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That memory, the warder of the brain, |
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Shall be a fume and the receipt of reason |
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A limbeck only. When in swinish sleep |
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Their drenched natures lie as in a death, |
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What cannot you and I perform upon |
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The unguarded Duncan? What not put upon |
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His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt |
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Of our great quell? |
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MACBETH. Bring forth men-children only, |
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For thy undaunted mettle should compose |
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Nothing but males. Will it not be received, |
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When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two |
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Of his own chamber and used their very daggers, |
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That they have done't? |
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LADY MACBETH. Who dares receive it other, |
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As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar |
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Upon his death? |
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MACBETH. I am settled and bend up |
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Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. |
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Away, and mock the time with fairest show: |
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False face must hide what the false heart doth know. |
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Exeunt. |
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<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM |
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ACT II. SCENE I. |
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Inverness. Court of Macbeth's castle. |
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Enter Banquo and Fleance, bearing a torch before him. |
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BANQUO. How goes the night, boy? |
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FLEANCE. The moon is down; I have not heard the clock. |
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BANQUO. And she goes down at twelve. |
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FLEANCE. I take't 'tis later, sir. |
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BANQUO. Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven, |
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Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. |
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A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, |
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And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers, |
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Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature |
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Gives way to in repose! |
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Enter Macbeth and a Servant with a torch. |
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Give me my sword. |
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Who's there? |
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MACBETH. A friend. |
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BANQUO. What, sir, not yet at rest? The King's abed. |
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He hath been in unusual pleasure and |
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Sent forth great largess to your offices. |
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This diamond he greets your wife withal, |
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By the name of most kind hostess, and shut up |
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In measureless content. |
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MACBETH. Being unprepared, |
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Our will became the servant to defect, |
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Which else should free have wrought. |
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BANQUO. All's well. |
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I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters: |
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To you they have show'd some truth. |
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MACBETH. I think not of them; |
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Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, |
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We would spend it in some words upon that business, |
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If you would grant the time. |
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BANQUO. At your kind'st leisure. |
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MACBETH. If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis, |
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It shall make honor for you. |
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BANQUO. So I lose none |
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In seeking to augment it, but still keep |
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My bosom franchised and allegiance clear, |
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I shall be counsel'd. |
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MACBETH. Good repose the while. |
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BANQUO. Thanks, sir, the like to you. |
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Exeunt Banquo. and Fleance. |
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MACBETH. Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, |
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She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. Exit Servant. |
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Is this a dagger which I see before me, |
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The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. |
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I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. |
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Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible |
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To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but |
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A dagger of the mind, a false creation, |
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Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? |
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I see thee yet, in form as palpable |
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As this which now I draw. |
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Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going, |
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And such an instrument I was to use. |
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Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, |
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Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still, |
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And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, |
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Which was not so before. There's no such thing: |
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It is the bloody business which informs |
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Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world |
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Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse |
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The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates |
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Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd Murther, |
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Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, |
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Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, |
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With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design |
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Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, |
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Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear |
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Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, |
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And take the present horror from the time, |
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Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives; |
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Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. |
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A bell rings. |
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I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. |
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Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell |
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That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. Exit. |
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SCENE II. |
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The same. |
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|
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Enter Lady Macbeth. |
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LADY MACBETH. That which hath made them drunk hath made me |
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bold; |
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What hath quench'd them hath given me fire. Hark! Peace! |
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It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, |
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Which gives the stern'st good night. He is about it: |
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The doors are open, and the surfeited grooms |
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Do mock their charge with snores. I have drugg'd their |
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possets |
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That death and nature do contend about them, |
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Whether they live or die. |
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MACBETH. [Within.] Who's there' what, ho! |
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LADY MACBETH. Alack, I am afraid they have awaked |
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And 'tis not done. The attempt and not the deed |
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Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready; |
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He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled |
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My father as he slept, I had done't. |
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Enter Macbeth, |
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My husband! |
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MACBETH. I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise? |
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LADY MACBETH. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. |
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Did not you speak? |
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MACBETH. When? |
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LADY MACBETH. Now. |
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MACBETH. As I descended? |
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LADY MACBETH. Ay. |
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MACBETH. Hark! |
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Who lies i' the second chamber? |
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LADY MACBETH. Donalbain. |
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MACBETH. This is a sorry sight. [Looks on his hands. |
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LADY MACBETH. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. |
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MACBETH. There's one did laugh in 's sleep, and one cried, |
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"Murther!" |
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That they did wake each other. I stood and heard them, |
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But they did say their prayers and address'd them |
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Again to sleep. |
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LADY MACBETH. There are two lodged together. |
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MACBETH. One cried, "God bless us!" and "Amen" the other, |
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As they had seen me with these hangman's hands. |
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Listening their fear, I could not say "Amen," |
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When they did say, "God bless us!" |
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LADY MACBETH. Consider it not so deeply. |
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MACBETH. But wherefore could not I pronounce "Amen"? |
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I had most need of blessing, and "Amen" |
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Stuck in my throat. |
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LADY MACBETH. These deeds must not be thought |
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After these ways; so, it will make us mad. |
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MACBETH. I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! |
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Macbeth does murther sleep" -the innocent sleep, |
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Sleep that knits up the ravel'd sleave of care, |
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The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, |
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Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, |
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Chief nourisher in life's feast- |
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LADY MACBETH. What do you mean? |
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MACBETH. Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" to all the house; |
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"Glamis hath murther'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor |
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Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more." |
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LADY MACBETH. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy Thane, |
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You do unbend your noble strength, to think |
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So brainsickly of things. Go, get some water |
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And wash this filthy witness from your hand. |
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Why did you bring these daggers from the place? |
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They must lie there. Go carry them, and smear |
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The sleepy grooms with blood. |
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MACBETH. I'll go no more. |
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I am afraid to think what I have done; |
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Look on't again I dare not. |
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LADY MACBETH. Infirm of purpose! |
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Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead |
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Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood |
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That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, |
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I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, |
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For it must seem their guilt. Exit. Knocking within. |
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MACBETH. Whence is that knocking? |
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How is't with me, when every noise appals me? |
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What hands are here? Ha, they pluck out mine eyes! |
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Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood |
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Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather |
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The multitudinous seas incarnadine, |
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Making the green one red. |
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Re-enter Lady Macbeth. |
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LADY MACBETH. My hands are of your color, but I shame |
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To wear a heart so white. [Knocking within.] I hear knocking |
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At the south entry. Retire we to our chamber. |
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A little water clears us of this deed. |
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How easy is it then! Your constancy |
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Hath left you unattended. [Knocking within.] Hark, more |
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knocking. |
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Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us |
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And show us to be watchers. Be not lost |
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So poorly in your thoughts. |
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MACBETH. To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself. |
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Knocking within. |
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Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst! |
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Exeunt. |
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SCENE III. |
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The same. |
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Enter a Porter. Knocking within. |
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PORTER. Here's a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of Hell |
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Gate, he should have old turning the key. [Knocking within.] |
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Knock, knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of Belzebub? |
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Here's |
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a farmer that hanged himself on th' expectation of plenty. |
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Come |
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in time! Have napkins enow about you; here you'll sweat fort. |
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[Knocking within.] Knock, knock! Who's there, in th' other |
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devil's name? Faith, here's an equivocator that could swear |
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in |
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both the scales against either scale, who committed treason |
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enough for God's sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven. O, |
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come in, equivocator. [Knocking within.] Knock, knock, knock! |
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Who's there? Faith, here's an English tailor come hither, for |
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stealing out of a French hose. Come in, tailor; here you may |
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roast your goose. [Knocking within.] Knock, knock! Never at |
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quiet! What are you? But this place is too cold for hell. |
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I'll |
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devil-porter it no further. I had thought to have let in some |
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of |
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all professions, that go the primrose way to the everlasting |
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bonfire. [Knocking within.] Anon, anon! I pray you, remember |
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the |
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porter. |
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Opens the gate. |
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Enter Macduff and Lennox. |
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MACDUFF. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, |
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That you do lie so late? |
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PORTER. Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock; and |
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drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things. |
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MACDUFF. What three things does drink especially provoke? |
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PORTER. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, |
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sir, |
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it provokes and unprovokes: it provokes the desire, but it |
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takes |
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away the performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be |
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an |
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equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it |
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sets |
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him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him and |
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disheartens |
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him; makes him stand to and not stand to; in conclusion, |
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equivocates him in a sleep, and giving him the lie, leaves |
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him. |
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MACDUFF. I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. |
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PORTER. That it did, sir, i' the very throat on me; but |
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requited |
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him for his lie, and, I think, being too strong for him, |
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though |
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he took up my legs sometime, yet I made shift to cast him. |
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MACDUFF. Is thy master stirring? |
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Enter Macbeth. |
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Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes. |
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LENNOX. Good morrow, noble sir. |
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MACBETH. morrow, both. |
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MACDUFF. Is the King stirring, worthy Thane? |
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MACBETH. Not yet. |
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MACDUFF. He did command me to call timely on him; |
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I have almost slipp'd the hour. |
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MACBETH. I'll bring you to him. |
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MACDUFF. I know this is a joyful trouble to you, |
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But yet 'tis one. |
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MACBETH. The labor we delight in physics pain. |
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This is the door. |
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MACDUFF I'll make so bold to call, |
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For 'tis my limited service. Exit. |
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LENNOX. Goes the King hence today? |
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MACBETH. He does; he did appoint so. |
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LENNOX. The night has been unruly. Where we lay, |
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Our chimneys were blown down, and, as they say, |
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Lamentings heard i' the air, strange screams of death, |
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And prophesying with accents terrible |
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Of dire combustion and confused events |
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New hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure bird |
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Clamor'd the livelong night. Some say the earth |
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Was feverous and did shake. |
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MACBETH. 'Twas a rough fight. |
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LENNOX. My young remembrance cannot parallel |
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A fellow to it. |
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Re-enter Macduff. |
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MACDUFF. O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart |
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Cannot conceive nor name thee. |
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MACBETH. LENNOX. What's the matter? |
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MACDUFF. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece. |
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Most sacrilegious murther hath broke ope |
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The Lord's anointed temple and stole thence |
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The life o' the building. |
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MACBETH. What is't you say? the life? |
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LENNOX. Mean you his Majesty? |
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MACDUFF. Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight |
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With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me speak; |
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See, and then speak yourselves. |
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Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox. |
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Awake, awake! |
|
Ring the alarum bell. Murther and treason! |
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Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm, awake! |
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Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, |
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And look on death itself! Up, up, and see |
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The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo! |
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As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites |
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To countenance this horror! Ring the bell. Bell rings. |
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Enter Lady Macbeth. |
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LADY MACBETH. What's the business, |
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That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley |
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The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak! |
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MACDUFF. O gentle lady, |
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'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: |
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The repetition in a woman's ear |
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Would murther as it fell. |
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Enter Banquo. |
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O Banquo, Banquo! |
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Our royal master's murther'd. |
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LADY MACBETH. Woe, alas! |
|
What, in our house? |
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BANQUO. Too cruel anywhere. |
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Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself, |
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And say it is not so. |
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Re-enter Macbeth and Lennox, with Ross. |
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MACBETH. Had I but died an hour before this chance, |
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I had lived a blessed time, for from this instant |
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There's nothing serious in mortality. |
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All is but toys; renown and grace is dead, |
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The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees |
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Is left this vault to brag of. |
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Enter Malcolm and Donalbain. |
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DONALBAIN. What is amiss? |
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MACBETH. You are, and do not know't. |
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The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood |
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Is stopped, the very source of it is stopp'd. |
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MACDUFF. Your royal father's murther'd. |
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MALCOLM. O, by whom? |
|
LENNOX. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done't. |
|
Their hands and faces were all badged with blood; |
|
So were their daggers, which unwiped we found |
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Upon their pillows. |
|
They stared, and were distracted; no man's life |
|
Was to be trusted with them. |
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MACBETH. O, yet I do repent me of my fury, |
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That I did kill them. |
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MACDUFF. Wherefore did you so? |
|
MACBETH. Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, |
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Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man. |
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The expedition of my violent love |
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Outrun the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan, |
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His silver skin laced with his golden blood, |
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And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature |
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For ruin's wasteful entrance; there, the murtherers, |
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Steep'd in the colors of their trade, their daggers |
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Unmannerly breech'd with gore. Who could refrain, |
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That had a heart to love, and in that heart |
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Courage to make 's love known? |
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LADY MACBETH. Help me hence, ho! |
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MACDUFF. Look to the lady. |
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MALCOLM. [Aside to Donalbain.] Why do we hold our tongues, |
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That most may claim this argument for ours? |
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DONALBAIN. [Aside to Malcolm.] What should be spoken here, |
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where |
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our fate, |
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Hid in an auger hole, may rush and seize us? |
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Let's away, |
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Our tears are not yet brew'd. |
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MALCOLM. [Aside to Donalbain.] Nor our strong sorrow |
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Upon the foot of motion. |
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BANQUO. Look to the lady. |
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Lady Macbeth is carried out. |
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And when we have our naked frailties hid, |
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That suffer in exposure, let us meet |
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And question this most bloody piece of work |
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To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us. |
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In the great hand of God I stand, and thence |
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Against the undivulged pretense I fight |
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Of treasonous malice. |
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MACDUFF. And so do I. |
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ALL. So all. |
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MACBETH. Let's briefly put on manly readiness |
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And meet i' the hall together. |
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ALL. Well contented. |
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Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain. |
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MALCOLM. What will you do? Let's not consort with them. |
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To show an unfelt sorrow is an office |
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Which the false man does easy. I'll to England. |
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DONALBAIN. To Ireland, I; our separated fortune |
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Shall keep us both the safer. Where we are |
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There's daggers in men's smiles; the near in blood, |
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The nearer bloody. |
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MALCOLM. This murtherous shaft that's shot |
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Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way |
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Is to avoid the aim. Therefore to horse; |
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And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, |
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But shift away. There's warrant in that theft |
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Which steals itself when there's no mercy left. |
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Exeunt. |
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SCENE IV. |
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Outside Macbeth's castle. |
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Enter Ross with an Old Man. |
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OLD MAN. Threescore and ten I can remember well, |
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Within the volume of which time I have seen |
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Hours dreadful and things strange, but this sore night |
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Hath trifled former knowings. |
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ROSS. Ah, good father, |
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Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man's act, |
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Threaten his bloody stage. By the clock 'tis day, |
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And yet dark night strangles the traveling lamp. |
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Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame, |
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That darkness does the face of earth entomb, |
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When living light should kiss it? |
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OLD MAN. 'Tis unnatural, |
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Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last |
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A falcon towering in her pride of place |
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Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd. |
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ROSS. And Duncan's horses-a thing most strange and certain- |
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Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, |
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Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, |
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Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make |
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War with mankind. |
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OLD MAN. 'Tis said they eat each other. |
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ROSS. They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes |
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That look'd upon't. |
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|
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Enter Macduff. |
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Here comes the good Macduff. |
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How goes the world, sir, now? |
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MACDUFF. Why, see you not? |
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ROSS. Is't known who did this more than bloody deed? |
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MACDUFF. Those that Macbeth hath slain. |
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ROSS. Alas, the day! |
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What good could they pretend? |
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MACDUFF. They were suborn'd: |
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Malcolm and Donalbain, the King's two sons, |
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Are stol'n away and fled, which puts upon them |
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Suspicion of the deed. |
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ROSS. 'Gainst nature still! |
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Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up |
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Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like |
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The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. |
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MACDUFF. He is already named, and gone to Scone |
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To be invested. |
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ROSS. Where is Duncan's body? |
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MACDUFF. Carried to Colmekill, |
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The sacred storehouse of his predecessors |
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And guardian of their bones. |
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ROSS. Will you to Scone? |
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MACDUFF. No, cousin, I'll to Fife. |
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ROSS. Well, I will thither. |
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MACDUFF. Well, may you see things well done there. |
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Adieu, |
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Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! |
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ROSS. Farewell, father. |
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OLD MAN. God's benison go with you and with those |
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That would make good of bad and friends of foes! |
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Exeunt. |
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<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM |
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SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS |
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ACT III. SCENE I. |
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Forres. The palace. |
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Enter Banquo. |
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BANQUO. Thou hast it now: King, Cawdor, Glamis, all, |
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As the weird women promised, and I fear |
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Thou play'dst most foully for't; yet it was said |
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It should not stand in thy posterity, |
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But that myself should be the root and father |
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Of many kings. If there come truth from them |
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(As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine) |
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Why, by the verities on thee made good, |
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May they not be my oracles as well |
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And set me up in hope? But hush, no more. |
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Sennet sounds. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth |
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as Queen, Lennox, Ross, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants. |
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MACBETH. Here's our chief guest. |
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LADY MACBETH. If he had been forgotten, |
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It had been as a gap in our great feast |
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And all thing unbecoming. |
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MACBETH. Tonight we hold a solemn supper, sir, |
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And I'll request your presence. |
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BANQUO. Let your Highness |
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Command upon me, to the which my duties |
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Are with a most indissoluble tie |
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Forever knit. |
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MACBETH. Ride you this afternoon? |
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BANQUO. Ay, my good lord. |
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MACBETH. We should have else desired your good advice, |
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Which still hath been both grave and prosperous |
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In this day's council; but we'll take tomorrow. |
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Is't far you ride'! |
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BANQUO. As far, my lord, as will fill up the time |
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'Twixt this and supper. Go not my horse the better, |
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I must become a borrower of the night |
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For a dark hour or twain. |
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MACBETH. Fail not our feast. |
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BANQUO. My lord, I will not. |
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MACBETH. We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'd |
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In England and in Ireland, not confessing |
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Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers |
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With strange invention. But of that tomorrow, |
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When therewithal we shall have cause of state |
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Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse; adieu, |
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Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? |
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BANQUO. Ay, my good lord. Our time does call upon 's. |
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MACBETH. I wish your horses swift and sure of foot, |
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And so I do commend you to their backs. |
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Farewell. Exit Banquo. |
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Let every man be master of his time |
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Till seven at night; to make society |
|
The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself |
|
Till supper time alone. While then, God be with you! |
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Exeunt all but Macbeth and an Attendant. |
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Sirrah, a word with you. Attend those men |
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Our pleasure? |
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ATTENDANT. They are, my lord, without the palace gate. |
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MACBETH. Bring them before us. Exit Attendant. |
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To be thus is nothing, |
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But to be safely thus. Our fears in Banquo. |
|
Stick deep, and in his royalty of nature |
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Reigns that which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares, |
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And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, |
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He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valor |
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To act in safety. There is none but he |
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Whose being I do fear; and under him |
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My genius is rebuked, as it is said |
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Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters |
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When first they put the name of King upon me |
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And bade them speak to him; then prophet-like |
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They hail'd him father to a line of kings. |
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Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown |
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And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, |
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Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand, |
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No son of mine succeeding. If't be so, |
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For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind, |
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For them the gracious Duncan have I murther'd, |
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Put rancors in the vessel of my peace |
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Only for them, and mine eternal jewel |
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Given to the common enemy of man, |
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To make them kings -the seed of Banquo kings! |
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Rather than so, come, Fate, into the list, |
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And champion me to the utterance! Who's there? |
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Re-enter Attendant, with two Murtherers. |
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|
Now go to the door, and stay there till we call. |
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Exit Attendant. |
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Was it not yesterday we spoke together? |
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FIRST MURTHERER. It was, so please your Highness. |
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MACBETH. Well then, now |
|
Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know |
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That it was he in the times past which held you |
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So under fortune, which you thought had been |
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Our innocent self? This I made good to you |
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In our last conference, pass'd in probation with you: |
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How you were borne in hand, how cross'd, the instruments, |
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Who wrought with them, and all things else that might |
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To half a soul and to a notion crazed |
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Say, "Thus did Banquo." |
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FIRST MURTHERER. You made it known to us. |
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MACBETH. I did so, and went further, which is now |
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Our point of second meeting. Do you find |
|
Your patience so predominant in your nature, |
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That you can let this go? Are you so gospel'd, |
|
To pray for this good man and for his issue, |
|
Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave |
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And beggar'd yours forever? |
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FIRST MURTHERER. We are men, my liege. |
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MACBETH. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men, |
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As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, |
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Shoughs, waterrugs, and demi-wolves are clept |
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All by the name of dogs. The valued file |
|
Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, |
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The housekeeper, the hunter, every one |
|
According to the gift which bounteous nature |
|
Hath in him closed, whereby he does receive |
|
Particular addition, from the bill |
|
That writes them all alike; and so of men. |
|
Now if you have a station in the file, |
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Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say it, |
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And I will put that business in your bosoms |
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Whose execution takes your enemy off, |
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Grapples you to the heart and love of us, |
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Who wear our health but sickly in his life, |
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Which in his death were perfect. |
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SECOND MURTHERER. I am one, my liege, |
|
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world |
|
Have so incensed that I am reckless what |
|
I do to spite the world. |
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FIRST MURTHERER. And I another |
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So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, |
|
That I would set my life on any chance, |
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To mend it or be rid on't. |
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MACBETH. Both of you |
|
Know Banquo was your enemy. |
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BOTH MURTHERERS. True, my lord. |
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MACBETH. So is he mine, and in such bloody distance |
|
That every minute of his being thrusts |
|
Against my near'st of life; and though I could |
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With barefaced power sweep him from my sight |
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And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not, |
|
For certain friends that are both his and mine, |
|
Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall |
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Who I myself struck down. And thence it is |
|
That I to your assistance do make love, |
|
Masking the business from the common eye |
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For sundry weighty reasons. |
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SECOND MURTHERER. We shall, my lord, |
|
Perform what you command us. |
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FIRST MURTHERER. Though our lives- |
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MACBETH. Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at |
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most |
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I will advise you where to plant yourselves, |
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Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time, |
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The moment on't; fort must be done tonight |
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And something from the palace (always thought |
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That I require a clearness); and with him- |
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To leave no rubs nor botches in the work- |
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Fleance his son, that keeps him company, |
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Whose absence is no less material to me |
|
Than is his father's, must embrace the fate |
|
Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart; |
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I'll come to you anon. |
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BOTH MURTHERERS. We are resolved, my lord. |
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MACBETH. I'll call upon you straight. Abide within. |
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Exeunt Murtherers. |
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It is concluded: Banquo, thy soul's flight, |
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If it find heaven, must find it out tonight. Exit. |
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SCENE II. |
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The palace. |
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Enter Lady Macbeth and a Servant. |
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LADY MACBETH. Is Banquo gone from court? |
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SERVANT. Ay, madam, but returns again tonight. |
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LADY MACBETH. Say to the King I would attend his leisure |
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For a few words. |
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SERVANT. Madam, I will. Exit. |
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LADY MACBETH. Nought's had, all's spent, |
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Where our desire is got without content. |
|
'Tis safer to be that which we destroy |
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Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. |
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|
Enter Macbeth. |
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How now, my lord? Why do you keep alone, |
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Of sorriest fancies your companions making, |
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Using those thoughts which should indeed have died |
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With them they think on? Things without all remedy |
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Should be without regard. What's done is done. |
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MACBETH. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it. |
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She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice |
|
Remains in danger of her former tooth. |
|
But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, |
|
Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep |
|
In the affliction of these terrible dreams |
|
That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead, |
|
Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, |
|
Than on the torture of the mind to lie |
|
In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; |
|
After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. |
|
Treason has done his worst; nor steel, nor poison, |
|
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, |
|
Can touch him further. |
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LADY MACBETH. Come on, |
|
Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks; |
|
Be bright and jovial among your guests tonight. |
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MACBETH. So shall I, love, and so, I pray, be you. |
|
Let your remembrance apply to Banquo; |
|
Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue: |
|
Unsafe the while, that we |
|
Must lave our honors in these flattering streams, |
|
And make our faces vizards to our hearts, |
|
Disguising what they are. |
|
LADY MACBETH. You must leave this. |
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MACBETH. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! |
|
Thou know'st that Banquo and his Fleance lives. |
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LADY MACBETH. But in them nature's copy's not eterne. |
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MACBETH. There's comfort yet; they are assailable. |
|
Then be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flown |
|
His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons |
|
The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums |
|
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done |
|
A deed of dreadful note. |
|
LADY MACBETH. What's to be done? |
|
MACBETH. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, |
|
Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, |
|
Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, |
|
And with thy bloody and invisible hand |
|
Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond |
|
Which keeps me pale! Light thickens, and the crow |
|
Makes wing to the rooky wood; |
|
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, |
|
Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse. |
|
Thou marvel'st at my words, but hold thee still: |
|
Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill. |
|
So, prithee, go with me. Exeunt. |
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SCENE III. |
|
A park near the palace. |
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|
|
Enter three Murtherers. |
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|
FIRST MURTHERER. But who did bid thee join with us? |
|
THIRD MURTHERER. Macbeth. |
|
SECOND MURTHERER. He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers |
|
Our offices and what we have to do |
|
To the direction just. |
|
FIRST MURTHERER. Then stand with us. |
|
The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day; |
|
Now spurs the lated traveler apace |
|
To gain the timely inn, and near approaches |
|
The subject of our watch. |
|
THIRD MURTHERER. Hark! I hear horses. |
|
BANQUO. [Within.] Give us a light there, ho! |
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SECOND MURTHERER. Then 'tis he; the rest |
|
That are within the note of expectation |
|
Already are i' the court. |
|
FIRST MURTHERER. His horses go about. |
|
THIRD MURTHERER. Almost a mile, but he does usually- |
|
So all men do -from hence to the palace gate |
|
Make it their walk. |
|
SECOND MURTHERER. A light, a light! |
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|
Enter Banquo, and Fleance with a torch. |
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THIRD MURTHERER. 'Tis he. |
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FIRST MURTHERER. Stand to't. |
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BANQUO. It will be rain tonight. |
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FIRST MURTHERER. Let it come down. |
|
They set upon Banquo. |
|
BANQUO. O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! |
|
Thou mayst revenge. O slave! Dies. Fleance escapes. |
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THIRD MURTHERER. Who did strike out the light? |
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FIRST MURTHERER. Wast not the way? |
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THIRD MURTHERER. There's but one down; the son is fled. |
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SECOND MURTHERER. We have lost |
|
Best half of our affair. |
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FIRST MURTHERER. Well, let's away and say how much is done. |
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Exeunt. |
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SCENE IV. |
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A Hall in the palace. A banquet prepared. |
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Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Ross, Lennox, Lords, and Attendants. |
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MACBETH. You know your own degrees; sit down. At first |
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And last the hearty welcome. |
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LORDS. Thanks to your Majesty. |
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MACBETH. Ourself will mingle with society |
|
And play the humble host. |
|
Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time |
|
We will require her welcome. |
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LADY MACBETH. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends, |
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For my heart speaks they are welcome. |
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|
Enter first Murtherer to the door. |
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MACBETH. See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks. |
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Both sides are even; here I'll sit i' the midst. |
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Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure |
|
The table round. [Approaches the door.] There's blood upon |
|
thy |
|
face. |
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MURTHERER. 'Tis Banquo's then. |
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MACBETH. 'Tis better thee without than he within. |
|
Is he dispatch'd? |
|
MURTHERER. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him. |
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MACBETH. Thou art the best o' the cut-throats! Yet he's good |
|
That did the like for Fleance. If thou didst it, |
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Thou art the nonpareil. |
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MURTHERER. Most royal sir, |
|
Fleance is 'scaped. |
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MACBETH. [Aside.] Then comes my fit again. I had else been |
|
perfect, |
|
Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, |
|
As broad and general as the casing air; |
|
But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in |
|
To saucy doubts and fears -But Banquo's safe? |
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MURTHERER. Ay, my good lord. Safe in a ditch he bides, |
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With twenty trenched gashes on his head, |
|
The least a death to nature. |
|
MACBETH. Thanks for that. |
|
There the grown serpent lies; the worm that's fled |
|
Hath nature that in time will venom breed, |
|
No teeth for the present. Get thee gone. Tomorrow |
|
We'll hear ourselves again. |
|
Exit Murtherer. |
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LADY MACBETH. My royal lord, |
|
You do not give the cheer. The feast is sold |
|
That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis amaking, |
|
'Tis given with welcome. To feed were best at home; |
|
From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony; |
|
Meeting were bare without it. |
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MACBETH. Sweet remembrancer! |
|
Now good digestion wait on appetite, |
|
And health on both! |
|
LENNOX. May't please your Highness sit. |
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|
The Ghost of Banquo enters and sits in Macbeth's place. |
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|
MACBETH. Here had we now our country's honor roof'd, |
|
Were the graced person of our Banquo present, |
|
Who may I rather challenge for unkindness |
|
Than pity for mischance! |
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ROSS. His absence, sir, |
|
Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your Highness |
|
To grace us with your royal company? |
|
MACBETH. The table's full. |
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LENNOX. Here is a place reserved, sir. |
|
MACBETH. Where? |
|
LENNOX. Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your Highness? |
|
MACBETH. Which of you have done this? |
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LORDS. What, my good lord? |
|
MACBETH. Thou canst not say I did it; never shake |
|
Thy gory locks at me. |
|
ROSS. Gentlemen, rise; his Highness is well. |
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LADY MACBETH. Sit, worthy friends; my lord is often thus, |
|
And hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep seat. |
|
The fit is momentary; upon a thought |
|
He will again be well. If much you note him, |
|
You shall offend him and extend his passion. |
|
Feed, and regard him not-Are you a man? |
|
MACBETH. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that |
|
Which might appal the devil. |
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LADY MACBETH. O proper stuff! |
|
This is the very painting of your fear; |
|
This is the air-drawn dagger which you said |
|
Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts, |
|
Impostors to true fear, would well become |
|
A woman's story at a winter's fire, |
|
Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself! |
|
Why do you make such faces? When all's done, |
|
You look but on a stool. |
|
MACBETH. Prithee, see there! Behold! Look! Lo! How say you? |
|
Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. |
|
If charnel houses and our graves must send |
|
Those that we bury back, our monuments |
|
Shall be the maws of kites. Exit Ghost. |
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LADY MACBETH. What, quite unmann'd in folly? |
|
MACBETH. If I stand here, I saw him. |
|
LADY MACBETH. Fie, for shame! |
|
MACBETH. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, |
|
Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal; |
|
Ay, and since too, murthers have been perform'd |
|
Too terrible for the ear. The time has been, |
|
That, when the brains were out, the man would die, |
|
And there an end; but now they rise again, |
|
With twenty mortal murthers on their crowns, |
|
And push us from our stools. This is more strange |
|
Than such a murther is. |
|
LADY MACBETH. My worthy lord, |
|
Your noble friends do lack you. |
|
MACBETH. I do forget. |
|
Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends. |
|
I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing |
|
To those that know me. Come, love and health to all; |
|
Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine, fill full. |
|
I drink to the general joy o' the whole table, |
|
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss. |
|
Would he were here! To all and him we thirst, |
|
And all to all. |
|
LORDS. Our duties and the pledge. |
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|
|
Re-enter Ghost. |
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MACBETH. Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee! |
|
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; |
|
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes |
|
Which thou dost glare with. |
|
LADY MACBETH. Think of this, good peers, |
|
But as a thing of custom. 'Tis no other, |
|
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. |
|
MACBETH. What man dare, I dare. |
|
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, |
|
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; |
|
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves |
|
Shall never tremble. Or be alive again, |
|
And dare me to the desert with thy sword. |
|
If trembling I inhabit then, protest me |
|
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! |
|
Unreal mockery, hence! Exit Ghost. |
|
Why, so, being gone, |
|
I am a man again. Pray you sit still. |
|
LADY MACBETH. You have displaced the mirth, broke the good |
|
meeting, |
|
With most admired disorder. |
|
MACBETH. Can such things be, |
|
And overcome us like a summer's cloud, |
|
Without our special wonder? You make me strange |
|
Even to the disposition that I owe |
|
When now I think you can behold such sights |
|
And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks |
|
When mine is blanch'd with fear. |
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ROSS. What sights, my lord? |
|
LADY MACBETH. I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse; |
|
Question enrages him. At once, good night. |
|
Stand not upon the order of your going, |
|
But go at once. |
|
LENNOX. Good night, and better health |
|
Attend his Majesty! |
|
LADY MACBETH. A kind good night to all! |
|
Exeunt all but Macbeth and Lady Macbeth. |
|
MACBETH. will have blood; they say blood will have blood. |
|
Stones have been known to move and trees to speak; |
|
Augures and understood relations have |
|
By maggot pies and choughs and rooks brought forth |
|
The secret'st man of blood. What is the night? |
|
LADY MACBETH. Almost at odds with morning, which is which. |
|
MACBETH. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person |
|
At our great bidding? |
|
LADY MACBETH. Did you send to him, sir? |
|
MACBETH. I hear it by the way, but I will send. |
|
There's not a one of them but in his house |
|
I keep a servant feed. I will tomorrow, |
|
And betimes I will, to the weird sisters. |
|
More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know, |
|
By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good |
|
All causes shall give way. I am in blood |
|
Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, |
|
Returning were as tedious as go o'er. |
|
Strange things I have in head that will to hand, |
|
Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd. |
|
LADY MACBETH. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. |
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MACBETH. Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse |
|
Is the initiate fear that wants hard use. |
|
We are yet but young in deed. Exeunt. |
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SCENE V. |
|
A heath. Thunder. |
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|
|
Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecate. |
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FIRST WITCH. Why, how now, Hecate? You look angerly. |
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HECATE. Have I not reason, beldams as you are, |
|
Saucy and overbold? How did you dare |
|
To trade and traffic with Macbeth |
|
In riddles and affairs of death, |
|
And I, the mistress of your charms, |
|
The close contriver of all harms, |
|
Was never call'd to bear my part, |
|
Or show the glory of our art? |
|
And, which is worse, all you have done |
|
Hath been but for a wayward son, |
|
Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do, |
|
Loves for his own ends, not for you. |
|
But make amends now. Get you gone, |
|
And at the pit of Acheron |
|
Meet me i' the morning. Thither he |
|
Will come to know his destiny. |
|
Your vessels and your spells provide, |
|
Your charms and everything beside. |
|
I am for the air; this night I'll spend |
|
Unto a dismal and a fatal end. |
|
Great business must be wrought ere noon: |
|
Upon the corner of the moon |
|
There hangs a vaporous drop profound; |
|
I'll catch it ere it come to ground. |
|
And that distill'd by magic sleights |
|
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. |
|
Music and a song within, |
|
"Come away, come away." |
|
Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see, |
|
Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me. Exit. |
|
FIRST WITCH. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again. |
|
Exeunt. |
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SCENE VI. |
|
Forres. The palace. |
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|
|
Enter Lennox and another Lord. |
|
|
|
LENNOX. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, |
|
Which can interpret farther; only I say |
|
Thing's 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't 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't. 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, upon 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 tables meat, sleep to our nights, |
|
Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives, |
|
Do faithful homage, and receive free honors- |
|
All which we pine for now. And this report |
|
Hath so exasperate the King that he |
|
Prepares for some attempt of war. |
|
LENNOX. Sent he to Macduff? |
|
LORD. He did, and with an absolute "Sir, not I," |
|
The cloudy messenger turns me his back, |
|
And hums, as who should say, "You'll rue the time |
|
That clogs me with this answer." |
|
LENNOX. 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 |
|
May soon return to this our suffering country |
|
Under a hand accursed! |
|
LORD. I'll send my prayers with him. |
|
Exeunt. |
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<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM |
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ACT IV. SCENE I. |
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A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron. Thunder. |
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|
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Enter the three Witches. |
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FIRST WITCH. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. |
|
SECOND WITCH. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. |
|
THIRD WITCH. Harpier cries, "'Tis time, 'tis time." |
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FIRST WITCH. Round about the cauldron go; |
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In the poison'd entrails throw. |
|
Toad, that under cold stone |
|
Days and nights has thirty-one |
|
Swelter'd venom sleeping got, |
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Boil thou first i' the charmed pot. |
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ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble; |
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Fire burn and cauldron bubble. |
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SECOND WITCH. Fillet of a fenny snake, |
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In the cauldron boil and bake; |
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Eye of newt and toe of frog, |
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Wool of bat and tongue of dog, |
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Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, |
|
Lizard's leg and howlet's wing, |
|
For a charm of powerful trouble, |
|
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. |
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ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble; |
|
Fire burn and cauldron bubble. |
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THIRD WITCH. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, |
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Witch's mummy, maw and gulf |
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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 chawdron, |
|
For the ingredients of our cawdron. |
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ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble; |
|
Fire burn and cauldron bubble. |
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SECOND WITCH. Cool it with a baboon's blood, |
|
Then the charm is firm and good. |
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|
|
Enter Hecate to the other three Witches. |
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|
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HECATE. O, well done! I commend your pains, |
|
And everyone shall share i' the gains. |
|
And now about the cauldron sing, |
|
Like elves and fairies in a ring, |
|
Enchanting all that you put in. |
|
Music and a song, "Black spirits." |
|
Hecate retires. |
|
SECOND WITCH. By the pricking of my thumbs, |
|
Something wicked this way comes. |
|
Open, locks, |
|
Whoever knocks! |
|
|
|
Enter Macbeth. |
|
|
|
MACBETH. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? |
|
What is't you do? |
|
ALL. A deed without a name. |
|
MACBETH. I conjure you, by that which you profess |
|
(Howeer 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 lodged and trees blown down, |
|
Though castles topple on their warders' heads, |
|
Though palaces and pyramids do slope |
|
Their heads to their foundations, though the treasure |
|
Of nature's germaines tumble all together |
|
Even till destruction sicken, answer me |
|
To what I ask you. |
|
FIRST WITCH. Speak. |
|
SECOND WITCH. Demand. |
|
THIRD WITCH. We'll answer. |
|
FIRST WITCH. Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths, |
|
Or from our masters'? |
|
MACBETH. Call 'em, let me see 'em. |
|
FIRST WITCH. Pour in sow's blood that hath eaten |
|
Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten |
|
From the murtherer's gibbet throw |
|
Into the flame. |
|
ALL. Come, high or low; |
|
Thyself and office deftly show! |
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|
|
Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head. |
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|
|
MACBETH. Tell me, thou unknown power- |
|
FIRST WITCH. He knows thy thought: |
|
Hear his speech, but say thou nought. |
|
FIRST APPARITION. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware Macduff, |
|
Beware the Thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough. |
|
Descends. |
|
MACBETH. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks; |
|
Thou hast harp'd my fear aright. But one word more- |
|
FIRST WITCH. He will not be commanded. Here's another, |
|
More potent than the first. |
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|
Thunder. Second Apparition: a bloody Child. |
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|
|
SECOND APPARITION. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! |
|
MACBETH. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee. |
|
SECOND APPARITION. Be bloody, bold, and resolute: laugh to |
|
scorn |
|
The power of man, for none of woman born |
|
Shall harm Macbeth. Descends. |
|
MACBETH. Then live, Macduff. What need I fear of thee? |
|
But yet I'll make assurance double 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. |
|
|
|
Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned, |
|
with a tree in his hand. |
|
|
|
What is this, |
|
That rises like the issue of a king, |
|
And wears upon his baby brow the round |
|
And top of sovereignty? |
|
ALL. Listen, but speak not to't. |
|
THIRD APPARITION. 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. Descends. |
|
MACBETH. 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-placed 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. |
|
MACBETH. 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. |
|
FIRST WITCH. Show! |
|
SECOND WITCH. Show! |
|
THIRD. WITCH. Show! |
|
ALL. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; |
|
Come like shadows, so depart! |
|
|
|
A show of eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand; |
|
Banquo's Ghost following. |
|
|
|
MACBETH. Thou are too like the spirit of Banquo Down! |
|
Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs. 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? |
|
Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more! |
|
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass |
|
Which shows me many more; and some I see |
|
That twofold 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? |
|
FIRST WITCH. Ay, sir, all this is so. But why |
|
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? |
|
Come,sisters, cheer we up his sprites, |
|
And show 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 |
|
then vanish with Hecate. |
|
MACBETH. are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour |
|
Stand ay accursed in the calendar! |
|
Come in, without there! |
|
|
|
Enter Lennox. |
|
|
|
LENNOX. What's your Grace's will? |
|
MACBETH. Saw you the weird sisters? |
|
LENNOX. No, my lord. |
|
MACBETH. Came they not by you? |
|
LENNOX. No indeed, my lord. |
|
MACBETH. Infected be the 'air whereon they ride, |
|
And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear |
|
The galloping of horse. Who wast came by? |
|
LENNOX. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word |
|
Macduff is fled to England. |
|
MACBETH. Fled to England? |
|
LENNOX. Ay, my good lord. |
|
MACBETH. [Aside.] Time, thou anticipatest 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' the 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 sights! -Where are these gentlemen? |
|
Come, bring me where they are. Exeunt. |
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|
SCENE II. |
|
Fife. Macduff's castle. |
|
|
|
Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Ross. |
|
|
|
LADY MACDUFF. What had he done, to make him fly the land? |
|
ROSS. You must have patience, madam. |
|
LADY MACDUFF. He had none; |
|
His flight was madness. When our actions do not, |
|
Our fears do make us traitors. |
|
ROSS. You know not |
|
Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. |
|
LADY MACDUFF. 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. |
|
ROSS. 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 rumor |
|
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 upward |
|
To what they were before. My pretty cousin, |
|
Blessing upon you! |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. |
|
ROSS. 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. |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Sirrah, your father's dead. |
|
And what will you do now? How will you live? |
|
SON. As birds do, Mother. |
|
LADY MACDUFF. What, with worms and flies? |
|
SON. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Poor bird! Thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime, |
|
The pitfall nor the gin. |
|
SON. Why should I, Mother? Poor birds they are not set for. |
|
My father is not dead, for all your saying. |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Yes, he is dead. How wilt thou do for father? |
|
SON. Nay, how will you do for a husband? |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. |
|
SON. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again. |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Thou speak'st with all thy wit, and yet, i' |
|
faith, |
|
With wit enough for thee. |
|
SON. Was my father a traitor, Mother? |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Ay, that he was. |
|
SON. What is a traitor? |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Why one that swears and lies. |
|
SON. And be all traitors that do so? |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Everyone that does so is a traitor and must be |
|
hanged. |
|
SON. And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Everyone. |
|
SON. Who must hang them? |
|
LADY MACDUFF. 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. |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt |
|
thou do |
|
for a father? |
|
SON. If he were dead, you'ld weep for him; if you would not, it |
|
were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father. |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Poor prattler, how thou talk'st! |
|
|
|
Enter a Messenger. |
|
|
|
MESSENGER. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, |
|
Though in your state of honor 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 you! |
|
I dare abide no longer. Exit. |
|
LADY MACDUFF. Whither should I fly? |
|
I have done no harm. But I remember now |
|
I am in this earthly world, where to do harm |
|
Is often laudable, to do good sometime |
|
Accounted dangerous folly. Why then, alas, |
|
Do I put up that womanly defense, |
|
To say I have done no harm -What are these faces? |
|
|
|
Enter Murtherers. |
|
|
|
FIRST MURTHERER. Where is your husband? |
|
LADY MACDUFF. I hope, in no place so unsanctified |
|
Where such as thou mayst find him. |
|
FIRST MURTHERER. He's a traitor. |
|
SON. Thou liest, thou shag-ear'd villain! |
|
FIRST MURTHERER. What, you egg! |
|
Stabs him. |
|
Young fry of treachery! |
|
SON. He has kill'd me, Mother. |
|
Run away, I pray you! Dies. |
|
Exit Lady Macduff, crying "Murther!" |
|
Exeunt Murtherers, following her. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SCENE III. |
|
England. Before the King's palace. |
|
|
|
Enter Malcolm and Macduff. |
|
|
|
MALCOLM. Let us seek out some desolate shade and there |
|
Weep our sad bosoms empty. |
|
MACDUFF. Let us rather |
|
Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men |
|
Bestride our downfall'n birthdom. Each new morn |
|
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 dolor. |
|
MALCOLM. What I believe, I'll wall; |
|
What know, believe; and what I can redress, |
|
As I shall find the time to friend, I will. |
|
What you have spoke, it may be so perchance. |
|
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, |
|
Was once thought honest. You have loved 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. |
|
MACDUFF. I am not treacherous. |
|
MALCOLM. But Macbeth is. |
|
A good and virtuous nature may recoil |
|
In an imperial charge. But I shall 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 grace, |
|
Yet grace must still look so. |
|
MACDUFF. I have lost my hopes. |
|
MALCOLM. Perchance even there where I did find my doubts. |
|
Why in that rawness left you wife and child, |
|
Those precious motives, those strong knots of love, |
|
Without leave-taking? I pray you, |
|
Let not my jealousies be your dishonors, |
|
But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just, |
|
Whatever I shall think. |
|
MACDUFF. Bleed, bleed, poor country! |
|
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, |
|
For goodness dare not check thee. Wear thou thy wrongs; |
|
The title is affeer'd. Fare thee well, lord. |
|
I would not be the villain that thou think'st |
|
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp |
|
And the rich East to boot. |
|
MALCOLM. Be not offended; |
|
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 her 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. |
|
MACDUFF. What should he be? |
|
MALCOLM. 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. |
|
MACDUFF. Not in the legions |
|
Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd |
|
In evils to top Macbeth. |
|
MALCOLM. I grant him bloody, |
|
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, |
|
Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin |
|
That has a name. But there's no bottom, none, |
|
In my voluptuousness. Your wives, your daughters, |
|
Your matrons, and your maids could not fill up |
|
The cestern of my lust, and my desire |
|
All continent impediments would o'erbear |
|
That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth |
|
Than such an one to reign. |
|
MACDUFF. Boundless intemperance |
|
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been |
|
The untimely emptying of the happy throne, |
|
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet |
|
To take upon you what is yours. You may |
|
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty |
|
And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink. |
|
We have willing dames enough; there cannot be |
|
That vulture in you to devour so many |
|
As will to greatness dedicate themselves, |
|
Finding it so inclined. |
|
MALCOLM. With this there grows |
|
In my most ill-composed affection such |
|
A stanchless avarice that, were I King, |
|
I should cut off the nobles for their lands, |
|
Desire his jewels and this other's house, |
|
And my more-having would be as a sauce |
|
To make me hunger more, that I should forge |
|
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, |
|
Destroying them for wealth. |
|
MACDUFF. This avarice |
|
Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root |
|
Than summer-seeming 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. |
|
MALCOLM. 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. |
|
MACDUFF. O Scotland, Scotland! |
|
MALCOLM. If such a one be fit to govern, speak. |
|
I am as I have spoken. |
|
MACDUFF. Fit to govern? |
|
No, not to live. O nation miserable! |
|
With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd, |
|
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! |
|
MALCOLM. Macduff, this noble passion, |
|
Child of integrity, hath from my soul |
|
Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts |
|
To thy good truth and honor. 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 |
|
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 |
|
Already at a point, was setting forth. |
|
Now we'll together, and the chance of goodness |
|
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent? |
|
MACDUFF. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once |
|
'Tis hard to reconcile. |
|
|
|
Enter a Doctor. |
|
|
|
MALCOLM. Well, more anon. Comes the King forth, I pray you? |
|
DOCTOR. Ay, sir, 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. |
|
MALCOLM. I thank you, Doctor. Exit Doctor. |
|
MACDUFF. What's the disease he means? |
|
MALCOLM. '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 swol'n and ulcerous, pitiful to 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. |
|
|
|
Enter Ross. |
|
|
|
MACDUFF. See, who comes here? |
|
MALCOLM. My countryman, but yet I know him not. |
|
MACDUFF. My ever gentle cousin, welcome hither. |
|
MALCOLM. I know him now. Good God, betimes remove |
|
The means that makes us strangers! |
|
ROSS. Sir, amen. |
|
MACDUFF. Stands Scotland where it did? |
|
ROSS. 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 |
|
Is there scarce ask'd for who, and good men's lives |
|
Expire before the flowers in their caps, |
|
Dying or ere they sicken. |
|
MACDUFF. O, relation |
|
Too nice, and yet too true! |
|
MALCOLM. What's the newest grief? |
|
ROSS. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker; |
|
Each minute teems a new one. |
|
MACDUFF. How does my wife? |
|
ROSS. Why, well. |
|
MACDUFF. And all my children? |
|
ROSS. Well too. |
|
MACDUFF. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? |
|
ROSS. No, they were well at peace when I did leave 'em. |
|
MACDUFF. Be not a niggard of your speech. How goest? |
|
ROSS. When I came hither to transport the tidings, |
|
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumor |
|
Of many worthy fellows that were out, |
|
Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, |
|
For that I saw the tyrant's power afoot. |
|
Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland |
|
Would create soldiers, make our women fight, |
|
To doff their dire distresses. |
|
MALCOLM. Be't 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. |
|
ROSS. Would I could answer |
|
This comfort with the like! But I have words |
|
That would be howl'd out in the desert air, |
|
Where hearing should not latch them. |
|
MACDUFF. What concern they? |
|
The general cause? Or is it a fee-grief |
|
Due to some single breast? |
|
ROSS. No mind that's honest |
|
But in it shares some woe, though the main part |
|
Pertains to you alone. |
|
MACDUFF. If it be mine, |
|
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. |
|
ROSS. Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, |
|
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound |
|
That ever yet they heard. |
|
MACDUFF. Humh! I guess at it. |
|
ROSS. Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes |
|
Savagely slaughter'd. To relate the manner |
|
Were, on the quarry of these murther'd deer, |
|
To add the death of you. |
|
MALCOLM. Merciful heaven! |
|
What, man! Neer pull your hat upon your brows; |
|
Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak |
|
Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break. |
|
MACDUFF. My children too? |
|
ROSS. Wife, children, servants, all |
|
That could be found. |
|
MACDUFF. And I must be from thence! |
|
My wife kill'd too? |
|
ROSS. I have said. |
|
MALCOLM. Be comforted. |
|
Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, |
|
To cure this deadly grief. |
|
MACDUFF. 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? |
|
MALCOLM. Dispute it like a man. |
|
MACDUFF. 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! |
|
MALCOLM. Be this the whetstone of your sword. Let grief |
|
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. |
|
MACDUFF. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes |
|
And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens, |
|
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! |
|
MALCOLM. 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. Exeunt. |
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ACT V. SCENE I. |
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Dunsinane. Anteroom in the castle. |
|
|
|
Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting Gentlewoman. |
|
|
|
DOCTOR. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no |
|
truth in your report. When was it she last walked? |
|
GENTLEWOMAN. Since his Majesty went into the field, have seen |
|
her |
|
rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her |
|
closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, |
|
afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this |
|
while |
|
in a most fast sleep. |
|
DOCTOR. 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? |
|
GENTLEWOMAN. That, sir, which I will not report after her. |
|
DOCTOR. You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should. |
|
GENTLEWOMAN. Neither to you nor anyone, 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. |
|
DOCTOR. How came she by that light? |
|
GENTLEWOMAN. Why, it stood by her. She has light by her |
|
continually; 'tis her command. |
|
DOCTOR. You see, her eyes are open. |
|
GENTLEWOMAN. Ay, but their sense is shut. |
|
DOCTOR. What is it she does now? Look how she rubs her hands. |
|
GENTLEWOMAN. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus |
|
washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a |
|
quarter of |
|
an hour. |
|
LADY MACBETH. Yet here's a spot. |
|
DOCTOR. Hark, she speaks! I will set down what comes from her, |
|
to |
|
satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. |
|
LADY MACBETH. 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? |
|
DOCTOR. Do you mark that? |
|
LADY MACBETH. The Thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? |
|
What, |
|
will these hands neer be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no |
|
more |
|
o' that. You mar all with this starting. |
|
DOCTOR. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not. |
|
GENTLEWOMAN. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of |
|
that. |
|
Heaven knows what she has known. |
|
LADY MACBETH. Here's the smell of the blood still. All the |
|
perfumes |
|
of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh! |
|
DOCTOR. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged. |
|
GENTLEWOMAN. I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the |
|
dignity of the whole body. |
|
DOCTOR. Well, well, well- |
|
GENTLEWOMAN. Pray God it be, sir. |
|
DOCTOR. This disease is beyond my practice. Yet I have known |
|
those |
|
which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in |
|
their |
|
beds. |
|
LADY MACBETH. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown, look not |
|
so |
|
pale. I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come |
|
out |
|
on's grave. |
|
DOCTOR. Even so? |
|
LADY MACBETH. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. |
|
Come, |
|
come, come, come, give me your hand.What's done cannot be |
|
undone. |
|
To bed, to bed, to bed. |
|
Exit. |
|
DOCTOR. Will she go now to bed? |
|
GENTLEWOMAN. Directly. |
|
DOCTOR. Foul whisperings are abroad. Unnatural deeds |
|
Do breed unnatural troubles; infected minds |
|
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. |
|
More needs she the divine than the physician. |
|
God, God, forgive us all! Look after her; |
|
Remove from her the means of all annoyance, |
|
And still keep eyes upon her. So good night. |
|
My mind she has mated and amazed my sight. |
|
I think, but dare not speak. |
|
GENTLEWOMAN. Good night, good doctor. |
|
Exeunt. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SCENE II. |
|
The country near Dunsinane. Drum and colors. |
|
|
|
Enter Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, and Soldiers. |
|
|
|
MENTEITH. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, |
|
His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff. |
|
Revenges burn in them, for their dear causes |
|
Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm |
|
Excite the mortified man. |
|
ANGUS. Near Birnam Wood |
|
Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. |
|
CAITHNESS. Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother? |
|
LENNOX. For certain, sir, he is not; I have a file |
|
Of all the gentry. There is Seward's son |
|
And many unrough youths that even now |
|
Protest their first of manhood. |
|
MENTEITH. What does the tyrant? |
|
CAITHNESS. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies. |
|
Some say he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, |
|
Do call it valiant fury; but, for certain, |
|
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause |
|
Within the belt of rule. |
|
ANGUS. Now does he feel |
|
His secret murthers sticking on his hands, |
|
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; |
|
Those he commands move only in command, |
|
Nothing in love. Now does he feel his title |
|
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe |
|
Upon a dwarfish thief. |
|
MENTEITH. Who then shall blame |
|
His pester'd senses to recoil and start, |
|
When all that is within him does condemn |
|
Itself for being there? |
|
CAITHNESS. Well, march we on |
|
To give obedience where 'tis truly owed. |
|
Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal, |
|
And with him pour we, in our country's purge, |
|
Each drop of us. |
|
LENNOX. 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. |
|
|
|
MACBETH. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all! |
|
Till Birnam Wood remove to Dunsinane |
|
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? |
|
Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know |
|
All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus: |
|
"Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman |
|
Shall e'er have power upon 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. |
|
|
|
Enter a Servant. |
|
|
|
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon! |
|
Where got'st thou that goose look? |
|
SERVANT. There is ten thousand- |
|
MACBETH. Geese, villain? |
|
SERVANT. Soldiers, sir. |
|
MACBETH. 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 counselors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face? |
|
SERVANT. The English force, so please you. |
|
MACBETH. Take thy face hence. Exit Servant. |
|
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 |
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Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf, |
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And that which should accompany old age, |
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As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, |
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I must not look to have; but in their stead, |
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Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath, |
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Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not. |
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Seyton! |
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Enter Seyton. |
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SEYTON. What's your gracious pleasure? |
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MACBETH. What news more? |
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SEYTON. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported. |
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MACBETH. I'll fight, 'til from my bones my flesh be hack'd. |
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Give me my armor. |
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SEYTON. 'Tis not needed yet. |
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MACBETH. I'll put it on. |
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Send out more horses, skirr the country round, |
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Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armor. |
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How does your patient, doctor? |
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DOCTOR. Not so sick, my lord, |
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As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, |
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That keep her from her rest. |
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MACBETH. Cure her of that. |
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Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, |
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Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, |
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Raze out the written troubles of the brain, |
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And with some sweet oblivious antidote |
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Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff |
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Which weighs upon the heart? |
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DOCTOR. Therein the patient |
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Must minister to himself. |
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MACBETH. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it. |
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Come, put mine armor on; give me my staff. |
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Seyton, send out. Doctor, the Thanes fly from me. |
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Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast |
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The water of my land, find her disease |
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And purge it to a sound and pristine health, |
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I would applaud thee to the very echo, |
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That should applaud again. Pull't off, I say. |
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What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug |
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Would scour these English hence? Hearst thou of them? |
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DOCTOR. Ay, my good lord, your royal preparation |
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Makes us hear something. |
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MACBETH. Bring it after me. |
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I will not be afraid of death and bane |
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Till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane. |
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DOCTOR. [Aside.] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, |
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Profit again should hardly draw me here. Exeunt. |
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SCENE IV. |
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Country near Birnam Wood. Drum and colors. |
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|
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Enter Malcolm, old Seward and his Son, Macduff, Menteith, |
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Caithness, |
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Angus, Lennox, Ross, and Soldiers, marching. |
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MALCOLM. Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand |
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That chambers will be safe. |
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MENTEITH. We doubt it nothing. |
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SIWARD. What wood is this before us? |
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MENTEITH. The Wood of Birnam. |
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MALCOLM. Let every soldier hew him down a bough, |
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And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow |
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The numbers of our host, and make discovery |
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Err in report of us. |
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SOLDIERS. It shall be done. |
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SIWARD. We learn no other but the confident tyrant |
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Keeps still in Dunsinane and will endure |
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Our setting down before't. |
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MALCOLM. 'Tis his main hope; |
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For where there is advantage to be given, |
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Both more and less have given him the revolt, |
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And none serve with him but constrained things |
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Whose hearts are absent too. |
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MACDUFF. Let our just censures |
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Attend the true event, and put we on |
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Industrious soldiership. |
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SIWARD. The time approaches |
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That will with due decision make us know |
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What we shall say we have and what we owe. |
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Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, |
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But certain issue strokes must arbitrate. |
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Towards which advance the war. |
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Exeunt Marching. |
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SCENE V. |
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Dunsinane. Within the castle. |
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Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers, with drum and colors. |
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MACBETH. Hang out our banners on the outward walls; |
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The cry is still, "They come!" Our castle's strength |
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Will laugh a siege to scorn. Here let them lie |
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Till famine and the ague eat them up. |
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Were they not forced with those that should be ours, |
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We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, |
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And beat them backward home. |
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A cry of women within. |
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What is that noise? |
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SEYTON. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Exit. |
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MACBETH. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: |
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The time has been, my senses would have cool'd |
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To hear a night-shriek, and my fell of hair |
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Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir |
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As life were in't. I have supp'd full with horrors; |
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Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, |
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Cannot once start me. |
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Re-enter Seyton. |
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Wherefore was that cry? |
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SEYTON. The Queen, my lord, is dead. |
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MACBETH. She should have died hereafter; |
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There would have been a time for such a word. |
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Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow |
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Creeps in this petty pace from day to day |
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To the last syllable of recorded time; |
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And all our yesterdays have lighted fools |
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The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! |
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player |
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That struts and frets his hour upon the stage |
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And then is heard no more. It is a tale |
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Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, |
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Signifying nothing. |
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Enter a Messenger. |
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Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly. |
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MESSENGER. Gracious my lord, |
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I should report that which I say I saw, |
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But know not how to do it. |
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MACBETH. Well, say, sir. |
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MESSENGER. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, |
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I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, |
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The Wood began to move. |
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MACBETH. Liar and slave! |
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MESSENGER. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so. |
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Within this three mile may you see it coming; |
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I say, a moving grove. |
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MACBETH. If thou speak'st false, |
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Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, |
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Till famine cling thee; if thy speech be sooth, |
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I care not if thou dost for me as much. |
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I pull in resolution and begin |
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To doubt the equivocation of the fiend |
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That lies like truth. "Fear not, till Birnam Wood |
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Do come to Dunsinane," and now a wood |
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Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out! |
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If this which he avouches does appear, |
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There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here. |
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I 'gin to be aweary of the sun |
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And wish the estate o' the world were now undone. |
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Ring the alarum bell! Blow, wind! Come, wrack! |
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At least we'll die with harness on our back. Exeunt. |
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SCENE VI. |
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Dunsinane. Before the castle. |
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|
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Enter Malcolm, old Siward, Macduff, and their Army, with boughs. |
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Drum and colors. |
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MALCOLM. Now near enough; your leavy screens throw down, |
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And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle, |
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Shall with my cousin, your right noble son, |
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Lead our first battle. Worthy Macduff and we |
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Shall take upon 's what else remains to do, |
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According to our order. |
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SIWARD. Fare you well. |
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Do we but find the tyrant's power tonight, |
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Let us be beaten if we cannot fight. |
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MACDUFF. Make all our trumpets speak, give them all breath, |
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Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. |
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Exeunt. |
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SCENE VII. |
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Dunsinane. Before the castle. Alarums. |
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Enter Macbeth. |
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MACBETH. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, |
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But bear-like I must fight the course. What's he |
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That was not born of woman? Such a one |
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Am I to fear, or none. |
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Enter young Siward. |
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YOUNG SIWARD. What is thy name? |
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MACBETH. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. |
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YOUNG SIWARD. No, though thou call'st thyself a hotter name |
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Than any is in hell. |
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MACBETH. My name's Macbeth. |
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YOUNG SIWARD. The devil himself could not pronounce a title |
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More hateful to mine ear. |
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MACBETH. No, nor more fearful. |
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YOUNG SIWARD O Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword |
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I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. |
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They fight, and young Seward is slain. |
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MACBETH. Thou wast born of woman. |
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But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, |
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Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. Exit. |
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Alarums. Enter Macduff. |
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MACDUFF. That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face! |
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If thou best slain and with no stroke of mine, |
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My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still. |
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I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms |
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Are hired to bear their staves. Either thou, Macbeth, |
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Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge, |
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I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; |
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By this great clatter, one of greatest note |
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Seems bruited. Let me find him, Fortune! |
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And more I beg not. Exit. Alarums. |
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Enter Malcolm and old Siward. |
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SIWARD. This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd. |
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The tyrant's people on both sides do fight, |
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The noble Thanes do bravely in the war, |
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The day almost itself professes yours, |
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And little is to do. |
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MALCOLM. We have met with foes |
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That strike beside us. |
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SIWARD. Enter, sir, the castle. |
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Exeunt. Alarum. |
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SCENE VIII. |
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Another part of the field. |
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|
|
Enter Macbeth. |
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MACBETH. Why should I play the Roman fool and die |
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On mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes |
|
Do better upon them. |
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|
|
Enter Macduff. |
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MACDUFF. Turn, hell hound, turn! |
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MACBETH. Of all men else I have avoided thee. |
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But get thee back, my soul is too much charged |
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With blood of thine already. |
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MACDUFF. I have no words. |
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My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain |
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Than terms can give thee out! They fight. |
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MACBETH. Thou losest labor. |
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As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air |
|
With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed. |
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Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; |
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I bear a charmed life, which must not yield |
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To one of woman born. |
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MACDUFF. Despair thy charm, |
|
And let the angel whom thou still hast served |
|
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb |
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Untimely ripp'd. |
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MACBETH. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, |
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For it hath cow'd my better part of man! |
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And be these juggling fiends no more believed |
|
That patter with us in a double sense, |
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That keep the word of promise to our ear |
|
And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee. |
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MACDUFF. Then yield thee, coward, |
|
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." |
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MACBETH. I will not yield, |
|
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, |
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And to be baited with the rabble's curse. |
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Though Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane, |
|
And thou opposed, being of no woman born, |
|
Yet I will try the last. Before my body |
|
I throw my warlike shield! Lay on, Macduff, |
|
And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" |
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Exeunt fighting. Alarums. |
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|
SCENE IX. |
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|
|
Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colors, Malcolm, old |
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Siward, Ross, |
|
the other Thanes, and Soldiers. |
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|
MALCOLM. I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. |
|
SIWARD. Some must go off, and yet, by these I see, |
|
So great a day as this is cheaply bought. |
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MALCOLM. Macduff is missing, and your noble son. |
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ROSS. 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. |
|
SIWARD. Then he is dead? |
|
ROSS. Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow |
|
Must not be measured by his worth, for then |
|
It hath no end. |
|
SIWARD. Had he his hurts before? |
|
ROSS. Ay, on the front. |
|
SIWARD. Why then, God's soldier be he! |
|
Had I as many sons as I have hairs, |
|
I would not wish them to a fairer death. |
|
And so his knell is knoll'd. |
|
MALCOLM. He's worth more sorrow, |
|
And that I'll spend for him. |
|
SIWARD. He's worth no more: |
|
They say he parted well and paid his score, |
|
And so God be with him! Here comes newer comfort. |
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|
|
Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's head. |
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|
MACDUFF. Hail, King, for so thou art. Behold where stands |
|
The usurper's cursed head. The time is free. |
|
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. Hail, King of Scotland! Flourish. |
|
MALCOLM. 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 honor 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. Exeunt. |
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-THE END- |