MACBETH
by William Shakespeare
Dramatis Personæ
DUNCAN, King of Scotland.MALCOLM, his Son.DONALBAIN, his Son.MACBETH, General in the King’s Army.BANQUO, General in the King’s Army.MACDUFF, Nobleman of Scotland.LENNOX, Nobleman of Scotland.ROSS, Nobleman of Scotland.MENTEITH, Nobleman of Scotland.ANGUS, Nobleman of Scotland.CAITHNESS, Nobleman of Scotland.FLEANCE, Son to Banquo.SIWARD, Earl of Northumberland, General of the English Forces.YOUNG SIWARD, his Son.SEYTON, an Officer attending on Macbeth.BOY, Son to Macduff.An English Doctor.A Scottish Doctor.A Soldier.A Porter.An Old Man.
LADY MACBETH.LADY MACDUFF.Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth.HECATE, and three Witches.
Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, Attendants andMessengers.
The Ghost of Banquo and several other Apparitions.
SCENE: In the end of the Fourth Act, in England; through the rest ofthe Play, in Scotland; and chiefly at Macbeth’s Castle.
ACT I
SCENE I. An open Place.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.
FIRST WITCH.When shall we three meet again?In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
SECOND WITCH.When the hurlyburly’s done,When the battle’s lost and won.
THIRD WITCH.That will be ere the set of sun.
FIRST WITCH.Where the place?
SECOND WITCH.Upon the heath.
THIRD WITCH.There to meet with Macbeth.
FIRST WITCH.I come, Graymalkin!
SECOND WITCH.Paddock calls.
THIRD WITCH.Anon.
ALL.Fair is foul, and foul is fair:Hover through the fog and filthy air.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE II. A Camp near Forres.
Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, withAttendants, meeting a bleeding Captain.
DUNCAN.What bloody man is that? He can report,As seemeth by his plight, of the revoltThe newest state.
MALCOLM.This is the sergeantWho, like a good and hardy soldier, fought’Gainst my captivity.—Hail, brave friend!Say to the King the knowledge of the broilAs thou didst leave it.
SOLDIER.Doubtful it stood;As two spent swimmers that do cling togetherAnd choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald(Worthy to be a rebel, for to thatThe multiplying villainies of natureDo swarm upon him) from the Western IslesOf kerns and gallowglasses is supplied;And Fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,Show’d like a rebel’s whore. But all’s too weak;For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name),Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish’d steel,Which smok’d with bloody execution,Like Valour’s minion, carv’d out his passage,Till he fac’d the slave;Which ne’er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,Till he unseam’d him from the nave to the chops,And fix’d his head upon our battlements.
DUNCAN.O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!
SOLDIER.As whence the sun ’gins his reflectionShipwracking storms and direful thunders break,So from that spring, whence comfort seem’d to comeDiscomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark:No sooner justice had, with valour arm’d,Compell’d these skipping kerns to trust their heels,But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,With furbish’d arms and new supplies of men,Began a fresh assault.
DUNCAN.Dismay’d not thisOur captains, Macbeth and Banquo?
SOLDIER.Yes;As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.If I say sooth, I must report they wereAs cannons overcharg’d with double cracks;So theyDoubly redoubled strokes upon the foe:Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,Or memorize another Golgotha,I cannot tell—But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.
DUNCAN.So well thy words become thee as thy wounds:They smack of honour both.—Go, get him surgeons.
[_Exit Captain, attended._]
Enter Ross and Angus.
Who comes here?
MALCOLM.The worthy Thane of Ross.
LENNOX.What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he lookThat seems to speak things strange.
ROSS.God save the King!
DUNCAN.Whence cam’st thou, worthy thane?
ROSS.From Fife, great King,Where the Norweyan banners flout the skyAnd fan our people cold.Norway himself, with terrible numbers,Assisted by that most disloyal traitor,The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;Till that Bellona’s bridegroom, lapp’d in proof,Confronted him with self-comparisons,Point against point, rebellious arm ’gainst arm,Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,The victory fell on us.
DUNCAN.Great happiness!
ROSS.That nowSweno, the Norways’ king, craves composition;Nor would we deign him burial of his menTill he disbursed at Saint Colme’s InchTen thousand dollars to our general use.
DUNCAN.No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceiveOur bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death,And with his former title greet Macbeth.
ROSS.I’ll see it done.
DUNCAN.What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE III. A heath.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
FIRST WITCH.Where hast thou been, sister?
SECOND WITCH.Killing swine.
THIRD WITCH.Sister, where thou?
FIRST WITCH.A sailor’s wife had chestnuts in her lap,And mounch’d, and mounch’d, and mounch’d. “Give me,” quoth I.“Aroint thee, witch!” the rump-fed ronyon cries.Her husband’s to Aleppo gone, master o’ th’ _Tiger:_But in a sieve I’ll thither sail,And, like a rat without a tail,I’ll do, I’ll do, and I’ll do.
SECOND WITCH.I’ll give thee a wind.
FIRST WITCH.Th’art kind.
THIRD WITCH.And I another.
FIRST WITCH.I myself have all the other,And the very ports they blow,All the quarters that they knowI’ the shipman’s card.I will drain him dry as hay:Sleep shall neither night nor dayHang upon his pent-house lid;He shall live a man forbid.Weary sev’n-nights nine times nine,Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine:Though his bark cannot be lost,Yet it shall be tempest-tost.Look what I have.
SECOND WITCH.Show me, show me.
FIRST WITCH.Here I have a pilot’s thumb,Wrack’d as homeward he did come.
[_Drum within._]
THIRD WITCH.A drum, a drum!Macbeth doth come.
ALL.The Weird Sisters, hand in hand,Posters of the sea and land,Thus do go about, about:Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,And thrice again, to make up nine.Peace!—the charm’s wound up.
Enter Macbeth and Banquo.
MACBETH.So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
BANQUO.How far is’t call’d to Forres?—What are these,So wither’d, and so wild in their attire,That look not like the inhabitants o’ th’ earth,And yet are on’t?—Live you? or are you aughtThat man may question? You seem to understand me,By each at once her choppy finger layingUpon her skinny lips. You should be women,And yet your beards forbid me to interpretThat you are so.
MACBETH.Speak, if you can;—what are you?
FIRST WITCH.All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!
SECOND WITCH.All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!
THIRD WITCH.All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter!
BANQUO.Good sir, why do you start and seem to fearThings that do sound so fair?—I’ th’ name of truth,Are ye fantastical, or that indeedWhich outwardly ye show? My noble partnerYou greet with present grace and great predictionOf noble having and of royal hope,That he seems rapt withal. To me you speak not.If you can look into the seeds of time,And say which grain will grow, and which will not,Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fearYour favours nor your hate.
FIRST WITCH.Hail!
SECOND WITCH.Hail!
THIRD WITCH.Hail!
FIRST WITCH.Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
SECOND WITCH.Not so happy, yet much happier.
THIRD WITCH.Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
FIRST WITCH.Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
MACBETH.Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more.By Sinel’s death I know I am Thane of Glamis;But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives,A prosperous gentleman; and to be kingStands not within the prospect of belief,No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whenceYou owe this strange intelligence? or whyUpon this blasted heath you stop our wayWith such prophetic greeting?—Speak, I charge you.
[_Witches vanish._]
BANQUO.The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,And these are of them. Whither are they vanish’d?
MACBETH.Into the air; and what seem’d corporal,Melted as breath into the wind.Would they had stay’d!
BANQUO.Were such things here as we do speak about?Or have we eaten on the insane rootThat takes the reason prisoner?
MACBETH.Your children shall be kings.
BANQUO.You shall be king.
MACBETH.And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?
BANQUO.To the selfsame tune and words. Who’s here?
Enter Ross and Angus.
ROSS.The King hath happily receiv’d, Macbeth,The news of thy success, and when he readsThy personal venture in the rebels’ fight,His wonders and his praises do contendWhich should be thine or his: silenc’d with that,In viewing o’er the rest o’ th’ selfsame day,He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,Strange images of death. As thick as taleCame post with post; and everyone did bearThy praises in his kingdom’s great defence,And pour’d them down before him.
ANGUS.We are sentTo give thee from our royal master thanks;Only to herald thee into his sight,Not pay thee.
ROSS.And, for an earnest of a greater honour,He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:In which addition, hail, most worthy thane,For it is thine.
BANQUO.What, can the devil speak true?
MACBETH.The Thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress meIn borrow’d robes?
ANGUS.Who was the Thane lives yet,But under heavy judgement bears that lifeWhich he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin’dWith those of Norway, or did line the rebelWith hidden help and vantage, or that with bothHe labour’d in his country’s wrack, I know not;But treasons capital, confess’d and prov’d,Have overthrown him.
MACBETH.[_Aside._] Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor:The greatest is behind. [_To Ross and Angus._] Thanks for your pains.[_To Banquo._] Do you not hope your children shall be kings,When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to mePromis’d no less to them?
BANQUO.That, trusted home,Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But ’tis strange:And oftentimes to win us to our harm,The instruments of darkness tell us truths;Win us with honest trifles, to betray’sIn deepest consequence.—Cousins, a word, I pray you.
MACBETH.[_Aside._] Two truths are told,As happy prologues to the swelling actOf the imperial theme.—I thank you, gentlemen.—[_Aside._] This supernatural solicitingCannot be ill; cannot be good. If ill,Why hath it given me earnest of success,Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor:If good, why do I yield to that suggestionWhose horrid image doth unfix my hair,And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,Against the use of nature? Present fearsAre less than horrible imaginings.My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,Shakes so my single state of manThat function is smother’d in surmise,And nothing is but what is not.
BANQUO.Look, how our partner’s rapt.
MACBETH.[_Aside._] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown meWithout my stir.
BANQUO.New honours come upon him,Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mouldBut with the aid of use.
MACBETH.[_Aside._] Come what come may,Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
BANQUO.Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
MACBETH.Give me your favour. My dull brain was wroughtWith things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your painsAre register’d where every day I turnThe leaf to read them.—Let us toward the King.—Think upon what hath chanc’d; and at more time,The interim having weigh’d it, let us speakOur free hearts each to other.
BANQUO.Very gladly.
MACBETH.Till then, enough.—Come, friends.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE IV. Forres. A Room in the Palace.
Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox and Attendants.
DUNCAN.Is execution done on Cawdor? Are notThose in commission yet return’d?
MALCOLM.My liege,They are not yet come back. But I have spokeWith one that saw him die, who did report,That very frankly he confess’d his treasons,Implor’d your Highness’ pardon, and set forthA deep repentance. Nothing in his lifeBecame him like the leaving it; he diedAs one that had been studied in his death,To throw away the dearest thing he ow’dAs ’twere a careless trifle.
DUNCAN.There’s no artTo find the mind’s construction in the face:He was a gentleman on whom I builtAn absolute trust.
Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Ross and Angus.
O worthiest cousin!The sin of my ingratitude even nowWas heavy on me. Thou art so far before,That swiftest wing of recompense is slowTo overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserv’d;That the proportion both of thanks and paymentMight have been mine! only I have left to say,More is thy due than more than all can pay.
MACBETH.The service and the loyalty I owe,In doing it, pays itself. Your Highness’ partIs to receive our duties: and our dutiesAre to your throne and state, children and servants;Which do but what they should, by doing everythingSafe toward your love and honour.
DUNCAN.Welcome hither:I have begun to plant thee, and will labourTo make thee full of growing.—Noble Banquo,That hast no less deserv’d, nor must be knownNo less to have done so, let me infold theeAnd hold thee to my heart.
BANQUO.There if I grow,The harvest is your own.
DUNCAN.My plenteous joys,Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselvesIn drops of sorrow.—Sons, kinsmen, thanes,And you whose places are the nearest, know,We will establish our estate uponOur eldest, Malcolm; whom we name hereafterThe Prince of Cumberland: which honour mustNot unaccompanied invest him only,But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shineOn all deservers.—From hence to Inverness,And bind us further to you.
MACBETH.The rest is labour, which is not us’d for you:I’ll be myself the harbinger, and make joyfulThe hearing of my wife with your approach;So, humbly take my leave.
DUNCAN.My worthy Cawdor!
MACBETH.[_Aside._] The Prince of Cumberland!—That is a stepOn which I must fall down, or else o’erleap,For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires!Let not light see my black and deep desires.The eye wink at the hand, yet let that be,Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
[_Exit._]
DUNCAN.True, worthy Banquo! He is full so valiant;And in his commendations I am fed.It is a banquet to me. Let’s after him,Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:It is a peerless kinsman.
[_Flourish. Exeunt._]
SCENE V. Inverness. A Room in Macbeth’s Castle.
Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter.
LADY MACBETH.“They met me in the day of success; and I have learned by theperfect’st report they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When Iburned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air,into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, camemissives from the King, who all-hailed me, ‘Thane of Cawdor’; by whichtitle, before, these Weird Sisters saluted me, and referred me to thecoming on of time, with ‘Hail, king that shalt be!’ This have I thoughtgood to deliver thee (my dearest partner of greatness) that thoumight’st not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of whatgreatness is promis’d thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell.”
Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt beWhat thou art promis’d. Yet do I fear thy nature;It is too full o’ th’ milk of human kindnessTo catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great;Art not without ambition, but withoutThe illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly,That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou’dst have, great Glamis,That which cries, “Thus thou must do,” if thou have it;And that which rather thou dost fear to do,Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither,That I may pour my spirits in thine ear,And chastise with the valour of my tongueAll that impedes thee from the golden round,Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seemTo have thee crown’d withal.
Enter a Messenger.
What is your tidings?
MESSENGER.The King comes here tonight.
LADY MACBETH.Thou’rt mad to say it.Is not thy master with him? who, were’t so,Would have inform’d for preparation.
MESSENGER.So please you, it is true. Our thane is coming.One of my fellows had the speed of him,Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely moreThan would make up his message.
LADY MACBETH.Give him tending.He brings great news.
[_Exit Messenger._]
The raven himself is hoarseThat croaks the fatal entrance of DuncanUnder my battlements. Come, you spiritsThat tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-fullOf direst cruelty! make thick my blood,Stop up th’ access and passage to remorse,That no compunctious visitings of natureShake my fell purpose, nor keep peace betweenTh’ effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts,And take my milk for gall, your murd’ring ministers,Wherever in your sightless substancesYou wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night,And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hellThat my keen knife see not the wound it makes,Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the darkTo cry, “Hold, hold!”
Enter Macbeth.
Great Glamis, worthy Cawdor!Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!Thy letters have transported me beyondThis ignorant present, and I feel nowThe future in the instant.
MACBETH.My dearest love,Duncan comes here tonight.
LADY MACBETH.And when goes hence?
MACBETH.Tomorrow, as he purposes.
LADY MACBETH.O, neverShall sun that morrow see!Your face, my thane, is as a book where menMay read strange matters. To beguile the time,Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,But be the serpent under’t. He that’s comingMust be provided for; and you shall putThis night’s great business into my dispatch;Which shall to all our nights and days to comeGive solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
MACBETH.We will speak further.
LADY MACBETH.Only look up clear;To alter favour ever is to fear.Leave all the rest to me.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE VI. The same. Before the Castle.
Hautboys. Servants of Macbeth attending.
Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lennox, Macduff, Ross, Angusand Attendants.
DUNCAN.This castle hath a pleasant seat. The airNimbly and sweetly recommends itselfUnto our gentle senses.
BANQUO.This guest of summer,The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,By his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s breathSmells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this birdhath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle.Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ’dThe air is delicate.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
DUNCAN.See, see, our honour’d hostess!—The love that follows us sometime is our trouble,Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach youHow you shall bid God ’ild us for your pains,And thank us for your trouble.
LADY MACBETH.All our service,In every point twice done, and then done double,Were poor and single business to contendAgainst those honours deep and broad wherewithYour Majesty loads our house: for those of old,And the late dignities heap’d up to them,We rest your hermits.
DUNCAN.Where’s the Thane of Cawdor?We cours’d him at the heels, and had a purposeTo be his purveyor: but he rides well;And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp himTo his home before us. Fair and noble hostess,We are your guest tonight.
LADY MACBETH.Your servants everHave theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt,To make their audit at your Highness’ pleasure,Still to return your own.
DUNCAN.Give me your hand;Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly,And shall continue our graces towards him.By your leave, hostess.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE VII. The same. A Lobby in the Castle.
Hautboys and torches. Enter, and pass over, a Sewer and diversServants with dishes and service. Then enter Macbeth.
MACBETH.If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere wellIt were done quickly. If th’ assassinationCould trammel up the consequence, and catchWith his surcease success; that but this blowMight be the be-all and the end-all—here,But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,We’d jump the life to come. But in these casesWe still have judgement here; that we but teachBloody instructions, which being taught, returnTo plague th’ inventor. This even-handed justiceCommends th’ ingredience of our poison’d chaliceTo our own lips. He’s here in double trust:First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,Who should against his murderer shut the door,Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this DuncanHath borne his faculties so meek, hath beenSo clear in his great office, that his virtuesWill plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, againstThe deep damnation of his taking-off;And pity, like a naked new-born babe,Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubin, hors’dUpon the sightless couriers of the air,Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,That tears shall drown the wind.—I have no spurTo prick the sides of my intent, but onlyVaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itselfAnd falls on th’ other—
Enter Lady Macbeth.
How now! what news?
LADY MACBETH.He has almost supp’d. Why have you left the chamber?
MACBETH.Hath he ask’d for me?
LADY MACBETH.Know you not he has?
MACBETH.We will proceed no further in this business:He hath honour’d me of late; and I have boughtGolden opinions from all sorts of people,Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,Not cast aside so soon.
LADY MACBETH.Was the hope drunkWherein you dress’d yourself? Hath it slept since?And wakes it now, to look so green and paleAt what it did so freely? From this timeSuch I account thy love. Art thou afeardTo be the same in thine own act and valourAs thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have thatWhich thou esteem’st the ornament of life,And live a coward in thine own esteem,Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,”Like the poor cat i’ th’ adage?
MACBETH.Pr’ythee, peace!I dare do all that may become a man;Who dares do more is none.
LADY MACBETH.What beast was’t, then,That made you break this enterprise to me?When you durst do it, then you were a man;And, to be more than what you were, you wouldBe so much more the man. Nor time nor placeDid then adhere, and yet you would make both:They have made themselves, and that their fitness nowDoes unmake you. I have given suck, and knowHow tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me:I would, while it was smiling in my face,Have pluck’d my nipple from his boneless gumsAnd dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn as youHave done to this.
MACBETH.If we should fail?
LADY MACBETH.We fail?But screw your courage to the sticking-place,And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep(Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journeySoundly invite him), his two chamberlainsWill I with wine and wassail so convinceThat memory, the warder of the brain,Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reasonA limbeck only: when in swinish sleepTheir drenched natures lie as in a death,What cannot you and I perform uponTh’ unguarded Duncan? what not put uponHis spongy officers; who shall bear the guiltOf our great quell?
MACBETH.Bring forth men-children only;For thy undaunted mettle should composeNothing but males. Will it not be receiv’d,When we have mark’d with blood those sleepy twoOf his own chamber, and us’d their very daggers,That they have done’t?
LADY MACBETH.Who dares receive it other,As we shall make our griefs and clamour roarUpon his death?
MACBETH.I am settled, and bend upEach corporal agent to this terrible feat.Away, and mock the time with fairest show:False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
[_Exeunt._]
ACT II
SCENE I. Inverness. Court within the Castle.
Enter Banquo and Fleance with a torch before him.
BANQUO.How goes the night, boy?
FLEANCE.The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.
BANQUO.And she goes down at twelve.
FLEANCE.I take’t, ’tis later, sir.
BANQUO.Hold, take my sword.—There’s husbandry in heaven;Their candles are all out. Take thee that too.A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers,Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that natureGives way to in repose!
Enter Macbeth and a Servant with a torch.
Give me my sword.—Who’s there?
MACBETH.A friend.
BANQUO.What, sir, not yet at rest? The King’s abed:He hath been in unusual pleasure andSent forth great largess to your offices.This diamond he greets your wife withal,By the name of most kind hostess, and shut upIn measureless content.
MACBETH.Being unprepar’d,Our will became the servant to defect,Which else should free have wrought.
BANQUO.All’s well.I dreamt last night of the three Weird Sisters:To you they have show’d some truth.
MACBETH.I think not of them:Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,We would spend it in some words upon that business,If you would grant the time.
BANQUO.At your kind’st leisure.
MACBETH.If you shall cleave to my consent, when ’tis,It shall make honour for you.
BANQUO.So I lose noneIn seeking to augment it, but still keepMy bosom franchis’d, and allegiance clear,I shall be counsell’d.
MACBETH.Good repose the while!
BANQUO.Thanks, sir: the like to you.
[_Exeunt Banquo and Fleance._]
MACBETH.Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.
[_Exit Servant._]
Is this a dagger which I see before me,The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:—I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.Art thou not, fatal vision, sensibleTo feeling as to sight? or art thou butA dagger of the mind, a false creation,Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?I see thee yet, in form as palpableAs this which now I draw.Thou marshall’st me the way that I was going;And such an instrument I was to use.Mine eyes are made the fools o’ the other senses,Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still;And on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood,Which was not so before.—There’s no such thing.It is the bloody business which informsThus to mine eyes.—Now o’er the one half-worldNature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuseThe curtain’d sleep. Witchcraft celebratesPale Hecate’s off’rings; and wither’d murder,Alarum’d by his sentinel, the wolf,Whose howl’s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,With Tarquin’s ravishing strides, towards his designMoves like a ghost.—Thou sure and firm-set earth,Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fearThy very stones prate of my whereabout,And take the present horror from the time,Which now suits with it.—Whiles I threat, he lives.Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
[_A bell rings._]
I go, and it is done. The bell invites me.Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knellThat summons thee to heaven or to hell.
[_Exit._]
SCENE II. The same.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
LADY MACBETH.That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold:What hath quench’d them hath given me fire.—Hark!—Peace!It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman,Which gives the stern’st good night. He is about it.The doors are open; and the surfeited groomsDo mock their charge with snores: I have drugg’d their possets,That death and nature do contend about them,Whether they live or die.
MACBETH.[_Within._] Who’s there?—what, ho!
LADY MACBETH.Alack! I am afraid they have awak’d,And ’tis not done. Th’ attempt and not the deedConfounds us.—Hark!—I laid their daggers ready;He could not miss ’em.—Had he not resembledMy father as he slept, I had done’t.—My husband!
Enter Macbeth.
MACBETH.I have done the deed.—Didst thou not hear a noise?
LADY MACBETH.I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.Did not you speak?
MACBETH.When?
LADY MACBETH.Now.
MACBETH.As I descended?
LADY MACBETH.Ay.
MACBETH.Hark!—Who lies i’ th’ second chamber?
LADY MACBETH.Donalbain.
MACBETH.This is a sorry sight.
[_Looking on his hands._]
LADY MACBETH.A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
MACBETH.There’s one did laugh in’s sleep, and one cried, “Murder!”That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them.But they did say their prayers, and address’d themAgain to sleep.
LADY MACBETH.There are two lodg’d together.
MACBETH.One cried, “God bless us!” and, “Amen,” the other,As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands.List’ning their fear, I could not say “Amen,”When they did say, “God bless us.”
LADY MACBETH.Consider it not so deeply.
MACBETH.But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”?I had most need of blessing, and “Amen”Stuck in my throat.
LADY MACBETH.These deeds must not be thoughtAfter these ways; so, it will make us mad.
MACBETH.Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more!Macbeth does murder sleep,”—the innocent sleep;Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care,The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,Chief nourisher in life’s feast.
LADY MACBETH.What do you mean?
MACBETH.Still it cried, “Sleep no more!” to all the house:“Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore CawdorShall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more!”
LADY MACBETH.Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,You do unbend your noble strength to thinkSo brainsickly of things. Go get some water,And wash this filthy witness from your hand.—Why did you bring these daggers from the place?They must lie there: go carry them, and smearThe sleepy grooms with blood.
MACBETH.I’ll go no more:I am afraid to think what I have done;Look on’t again I dare not.
LADY MACBETH.Infirm of purpose!Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the deadAre but as pictures. ’Tis the eye of childhoodThat fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,I’ll gild the faces of the grooms withal,For it must seem their guilt.
[_Exit. Knocking within._]
MACBETH.Whence is that knocking?How is’t with me, when every noise appals me?What hands are here? Ha, they pluck out mine eyes!Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this bloodClean from my hand? No, this my hand will ratherThe multitudinous seas incarnadine,Making the green one red.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
LADY MACBETH.My hands are of your color, but I shameTo wear a heart so white. [_Knocking within._] I hear knockingAt the south entry:—retire we to our chamber.A little water clears us of this deed:How easy is it then! Your constancyHath left you unattended.—[_Knocking within._] Hark, more knocking.Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call usAnd show us to be watchers. Be not lostSo poorly in your thoughts.
MACBETH.To know my deed, ’twere best not know myself. [_Knocking within._]Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE III. The same.
Enter a Porter. Knocking within.
PORTER.Here’s a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell gate, he shouldhave old turning the key. [_Knocking._] Knock, knock, knock. Who’sthere, i’ th’ name of Belzebub? Here’s a farmer that hanged himself onthe expectation of plenty: come in time; have napkins enow about you;here you’ll sweat for’t. [_Knocking._] Knock, knock! Who’s there, i’th’ other devil’s name? Faith, here’s an equivocator, that could swearin both the scales against either scale, who committed treason enoughfor God’s sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come in,equivocator. [_Knocking._] Knock, knock, knock! Who’s there? Faith,here’s an English tailor come hither, for stealing out of a Frenchhose: come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose. [_Knocking._]Knock, knock. Never at quiet! What are you?—But this place is too coldfor hell. I’ll devil-porter it no further: I had thought to have let insome of all professions, that go the primrose way to th’ everlastingbonfire. [_Knocking._] Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.
[_Opens the gate._]
Enter Macduff and Lennox.
MACDUFF.Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,That you do lie so late?
PORTER.Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock; and drink, sir, isa great provoker of three things.
MACDUFF.What three things does drink especially provoke?
PORTER.Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokesand unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away theperformance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator withlechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takeshim off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, andnot stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and giving himthe lie, leaves him.
MACDUFF.I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.
PORTER.That it did, sir, i’ the very throat on me; but I requited him for hislie; and (I think) being too strong for him, though he took up my legssometime, yet I made a shift to cast him.
MACDUFF.Is thy master stirring?
Enter Macbeth.
Our knocking has awak’d him; here he comes.
LENNOX.Good morrow, noble sir!
MACBETH.Good morrow, both!
MACDUFF.Is the King stirring, worthy thane?
MACBETH.Not yet.
MACDUFF.He did command me to call timely on him.I have almost slipp’d the hour.
MACBETH.I’ll bring you to him.
MACDUFF.I know this is a joyful trouble to you;But yet ’tis one.
MACBETH.The labour we delight in physics pain.This is the door.
MACDUFF.I’ll make so bold to call.For ’tis my limited service.
[_Exit Macduff._]
LENNOX.Goes the King hence today?
MACBETH.He does. He did appoint so.