mkb.txt

 DUNCAN, King of Scotland MACBETH, Thane of Glamis and Cawdor, a general in the King's army LADY MACBETH, his wife MACDUFF, Thane of Fife, a nobleman of Scotland LADY MACDUFF, his wife MALCOLM, elder son of Duncan DONALBAIN, younger son of Duncan BANQUO, Thane of Lochaber, a general in the King's army FLEANCE, his son LENNOX, nobleman of Scotland ROSS, nobleman of Scotland MENTEITH nobleman of Scotland ANGUS, nobleman of Scotland CAITHNESS, nobleman of Scotland SIWARD, Earl of Northumberland, general of the English forces YOUNG SIWARD, his son SEYTON, attendant to Macbeth HECATE, Queen of the Witches The Three Witches Boy, Son of Macduff Gentlewoman attending on Lady
Macbeth An English Doctor A Scottish Doctor A Sergeant A Porter An Old
Man The Ghost of Banquo and other Apparitions Lords, Gentlemen,
Officers, Soldiers, Murtherers, Attendants, and Messengers
Ssene: Scotland and England
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
That will be ere the set of sun
Where the place? SECOND WITCH
Upon the heath
There to meet with Macbeth
I come, Graymalkin
Anon! Fair is foul, and foul is fair.
Hover through the fog and filthy air
What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state
This is the sergeant Who like a good and hardy soldier fought 'Gainst my captivity
Hail, brave friend! Say to the King the knowledge of the broil As thou didst leave it
Doubtful it stood, As two spent swimmers that do cling together And choke their art
The merciless Macdonwald- Worthy to be a rebel, for to that The multiplying villainies of nature Do swarm upon him from the Western Isles Of 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 smoked with bloody execution, Like Valor's minion carved out his passage Till he faced the slave, Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps, And fix'd his head upon our battlements
O valiant cousin! Worthy gentleman! SERGEANT
As whence the sun 'gins his reflection Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come Discomfort swells
Mark, King of Scotland, mark
No sooner justice had, with valor 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
Dismay'd not this Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? SERGEANT
Yes, As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion
If I say sooth, I must report they were As cannons overcharged with double cracks, So they Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, Or memorize another Golgotha, I cannot tellBut I am faint; my gashes cry for help
So well thy words become thee as thy wounds; They smack of honor both
Go get him surgeons
Exit Sergeant, attended
Who comes here?
The worthy Thane of Ross
What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look That seems to speak things strange
God save the King! DUNCAN
Whence camest thou, worthy Thane? ROSS
From Fife, great King, Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky And 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
Great happiness! ROSS
That now Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition; Nor would we deign him burial of his men Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme's Inch, Ten thousand dollars to our general use
No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest
Go pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth
I'll see it done
What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won
Where hast thou been, sister? SECOND 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' the 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
I'll give thee a wind
And I another
I myself have all the other, And the very ports they blow, All the quarters that they know I' the shipman's card
I will drain him dry as hay: Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his penthouse lid; He shall live a man forbid
Weary se'nnights nine times nine Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine; Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd
Look what I have
Show me, show me
Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wreck'd as homeward he did come
A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come
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.
So foul and fair a day I have not seen
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' the earth, And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught That man may question? You seem to understand me, By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips
You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so
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 fear Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth, Are ye fantastical or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace and great prediction Of 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 fear Your favors nor your hate
Hail! SECOND WITCH
Hail! THIRD WITCH
Hail! FIRST WITCH
Lesser than Macbeth, and greater
Not so happy, yet much happier
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 King Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor
Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence, or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you
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 root That takes the reason prisoner? MACBETH
Your children shall be kings
You shall be King
And Thane of Cawdor too
Went it not so? BANQUO
To the selfsame tune and words
Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet return'd? MALCOLM
My liege, They are not yet come back
But I have spoke With one that saw him die, who did report That very frankly he confess'd his treasons, Implored your Highness' pardon, and set forth A deep repentance
Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he owed As 'twere a careless trifle
There's no art To find the mind's construction in the face: He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust.
 O worthiest cousin! The sin of my ingratitude even now Was heavy on me
Thou art so far before, That swiftest wing of recompense is slow To overtake thee
Would thou hadst less deserved, That the proportion both of thanks and payment Might have been mine! Only I have left to say, More is thy due than more than all can pay
The service and the loyalty I owe, In doing it, pays itself
Your Highness' part Is to receive our duties, and our duties Are to your throne and state, children and servants, Which do but what they should, by doing everything Safe toward your love and honor
I have begun to plant thee, and will labor To make thee full of growing
Noble Banquo, That hast no less deserved, nor must be known No less to have done so; let me infold thee And hold thee to my heart
There if I grow, The harvest is your own
My plenteous joys, Wanton in fullness, seek to hide themselves In drops of sorrow
Sons, kinsmen, thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know We will establish our estate upon Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter The Prince of Cumberland; which honor must Not unaccompanied invest him only, But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine On all deservers
From hence to Inverness, And bind us further to you
The rest is labor, which is not used for you
I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful The hearing of my wife with your approach; So humbly take my leave
My worthy Cawdor! MACBETH
[Aside.] The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step On 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
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
"They met me in the day of success, and I have learned by the perfectest report they have more in them than mortal knowledge
When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished
Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the King, who all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor'; by which title, before, these weird sisters saluted me and referred me to the coming on of time with 'Hail, King that shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee
Lay it to thy heart, and farewell."
 Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promised
Yet do I fear thy nature
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way
Thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it
What thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win
Thou'ldst 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 valor of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal.
 What is your tidings? MESSENGER
The King comes here tonight
Thou'rt mad to say it! Is not thy master with him? who, were't so, Would have inform'd for preparation
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 more Than would make up his message
Give him tending; He brings great news
The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements
Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty! Make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose nor keep peace between The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, your murthering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell That my keen knife see not the wound it makes Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark To cry, "Hold, hold!"  Enter Macbeth.
 Great Glamis! Worthy Cawdor! Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond This ignorant present, and I feel now The future in the instant
My dearest love, Duncan comes here tonight
And when goes hence?
Tomorrow, as he purposes
O, never Shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my Thane, is as a book where men May 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 it
He that's coming Must be provided for; and you shall put This night's great business into my dispatch, Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom
We will speak further
Only look up clear; To alter favor ever is to fear
Leave all the rest to me.
This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses
This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here
No jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle; Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed The air is delicate.
See, see, our honor'd hostess! The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love
Herein I teach you How you shall bid God 'ield us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble
All our service In every point twice done, and then done double, Were poor and single business to contend Against those honors deep and broad wherewith Your Majesty loads our house
For those of old, And the late dignities heap'd up to them, We rest your hermits
Where's the Thane of Cawdor? We coursed him at the heels and had a purpose To be his purveyor; but he rides well, And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him To his home before us
Fair and noble hostess, We are your guest tonight
Your servants ever Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt, To make their audit at your Highness' pleasure, Still to return your own
Give me your hand; Conduct me to mine host
We love him highly, And shall continue our graces towards him
By your leave, hostess
 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 honor'd me of late, and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon
Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress'd yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love
Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valor As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which 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' the adage? MACBETH
Prithee, peace! I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none
What beast wast 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 would Be so much more the man
Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both
They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you
I have given suck and know How 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 gums And dash'd the brains out had I so sworn as you Have done to this
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 journey Soundly invite him- his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume and the receipt of reason A limbeck only
When in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lie as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan? What not put upon His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell? MACBETH
Bring forth men-children only, For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males
Will it not be received, When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber and used their very daggers, That they have done't? LADY MACBETH
Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar Upon his death? MACBETH
I am settled and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat
Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know
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How goes the night, boy? FLEANCE
The moon is down; I have not heard the clock
And she goes down at twelve
I take't 'tis later, sir
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 nature Gives way to in repose!
 Give me my sword
Who's there? MACBETH
What, sir, not yet at rest? The King's abed
He hath been in unusual pleasure and Sent forth great largess to your offices
This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the name of most kind hostess, and shut up In measureless content
Being unprepared, Our will became the servant to defect, Which else should free have wrought
I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters: To you they have show'd some truth
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
At your kind'st leisure
If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis, It shall make honor for you
So I lose none In seeking to augment it, but still keep My bosom franchised and allegiance clear, I shall be counsel'd
Good repose the while
Thanks, sir, the like to you
Exeunt Banquo and Fleance
Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, She strike upon the bell
Get thee to bed
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, sensible To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw
Thou marshal'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 informs Thus to mine eyes
Now o'er the one half-world Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd Murther, Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost
Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy 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 knell That summons thee to heaven, or to hell
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 grooms Do mock their charge with snores
I have drugg'd their possets That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die
[Within.] Who's there? what, ho! LADY MACBETH
Alack, I am afraid they have awaked And 'tis not done
The attempt and not the deed Confounds us
Hark! I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss 'em
Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done't.
Hark! Who lies i' the second chamber? LADY MACBETH
This is a sorry sight
[Looks on his hands
A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight
There's one did laugh in 's sleep, and one cried, "Murther!" That they did wake each other
I stood and heard them, But they did say their prayers and address'd them Again to sleep
There are two lodged together
One cried, "God bless us!" and "Amen" the other, As they had seen me with these hangman's hands
Listening their fear, I could not say "Amen," When they did say, "God bless us!" LADY MACBETH
Consider it not so deeply
But wherefore could not I pronounce "Amen"? I had most need of blessing, and "Amen" Stuck in my throat
These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad
I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! Macbeth does murther sleep" -the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravel'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast- LADY MACBETH
What do you mean?
Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" to all the house; "Glamis hath murther'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall 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 think So 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 smear The sleepy grooms with blood
I'll go no more
I am afraid to think what I have done; Look on't again I dare not
Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers
The sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil
If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt
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 blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
 Re-enter Lady Macbeth.
My hands are of your color, but I shame To wear a heart so white
[Knocking within.] I hear knocking At the south entry
Retire we to our chamber
A little water clears us of this deed
How easy is it then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended
[Knocking within.] Hark, more knocking
Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us And show us to be watchers
Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts
To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself
Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst! Exeunt.
Here's a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of Hell Gate, he should have old turning the key
[Knocking within.] Knock, knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of Belzebub? Here's a farmer that hanged himself on th' expectation of plenty
Come in time! Have napkins enow about you; here you'll sweat for't
[Knocking within.] Knock, knock! Who's there, in th' other devil's name? Faith, here's an equivocator that could swear in both the scales against either scale, who committed treason enough for God's sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven
O, come in, equivocator
[Knocking within.] Knock, knock, knock! Who's there? Faith, here's an English tailor come hither, for stealing out of a French hose
Come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose
[Knocking within.] Knock, knock! Never at quiet! What are you? But this place is too cold for hell
I'll devil-porter it no further
I had thought to have let in some of all professions, that go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire
[Knocking within.] Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter
Opens the gate.
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, is a great provoker of three things
What three things does drink especially provoke? PORTER
Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine
Lechery, sir, it provokes and unprovokes: it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance
Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him and disheartens him; makes him stand to and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and giving him the lie, leaves him
I believe drink gave thee the lie last night
That it did, sir, i' the very throat on me; but requited him for his lie, and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made shift to cast him
Is thy master stirring?
 Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes
Good morrow, noble sir
Good morrow, both
Is the King stirring, worthy Thane? MACBETH
He did command me to call timely on him; I have almost slipp'd the hour
I'll bring you to him
I know this is a joyful trouble to you, But yet 'tis one
The labor we delight in physics pain
This is the door
I'll make so bold to call, For 'tis my limited service
Goes the King hence today? MACBETH
He does; he did appoint so
The night has been unruly
Where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down, and, as they say, Lamentings heard i' the air, strange screams of death, And prophesying with accents terrible Of dire combustion and confused events New hatch'd to the woeful time
The obscure bird Clamor'd the livelong night
Some say the earth Was feverous and did shake
'Twas a rough night
My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it.
O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee
What's the matter? MACDUFF
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece
Most sacrilegious murther hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple and stole thence The life o' the building
What is't you say? the life? LENNOX
Mean you his Majesty? MACDUFF
Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon
Do not bid me speak; See, and then speak yourselves
Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox
Awake, awake! Ring the alarum bell
Murther and treason! Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm, awake! Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, And look on death itself! Up, up, and see The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo! As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites To countenance this horror! Ring the bell
What's the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak! MACDUFF
O gentle lady, 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: The repetition in a woman's ear Would murther as it fell.
 O Banquo, Banquo! Our royal master's murther'd
Woe, alas! What, in our house? BANQUO
Too cruel anywhere
Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself, And say it is not so.
 Re-enter Macbeth and Lennox, with Ross.
Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessed time, for from this instant There's nothing serious in mortality
All is but toys; renown and grace is dead, The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
What is amiss? MACBETH
You are, and do not know't
The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Is stopped, the very source of it is stopp'd
Your royal father's murther'd
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 Upon their pillows
They stared, and were distracted; no man's life Was to be trusted with them
O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them
Wherefore did you so? MACBETH
Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man
The expedition of my violent love Outrun the pauser reason
Here lay Duncan, His silver skin laced with his golden blood, And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature For ruin's wasteful entrance; there, the murtherers, Steep'd in the colors of their trade, their daggers Unmannerly breech'd with gore
Who could refrain, That had a heart to love, and in that heart Courage to make 's love known? LADY MACBETH
Help me hence, ho! MACDUFF
Look to the lady
[Aside to Donalbain.] Why do we hold our tongues, That most may claim this argument for ours? DONALBAIN
[Aside to Malcolm.] What should be spoken here, where our fate, Hid in an auger hole, may rush and seize us? Let's away, Our tears are not yet brew'd
[Aside to Donalbain.] Nor our strong sorrow Upon the foot of motion
Look to the lady
Macbeth is carried out
And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet And question this most bloody piece of work To know it further
Fears and scruples shake us
In the great hand of God I stand, and thence Against the undivulged pretense I fight Of treasonous malice
And so do I
Let's briefly put on manly readiness And meet i' the hall together
Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain
What will you do? Let's not consort with them
To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy
I'll to England
To Ireland, I; our separated fortune Shall keep us both the safer
Where we are There's daggers in men's smiles; the near in blood, The nearer bloody
This murtherous shaft that's shot Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way Is to avoid the aim
Therefore to horse; And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, But shift away
There's warrant in that theft Which steals itself when there's no mercy left
Threescore and ten I can remember well, Within the volume of which time I have seen Hours dreadful and things strange, but this sore night Hath trifled former knowings
Ah, good father, Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man's act, Threaten his bloody stage
By the clock 'tis day, And yet dark night strangles the traveling lamp
Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame, That darkness does the face of earth entomb, When living light should kiss it? OLD MAN
'Tis unnatural, Even like the deed that's done
On Tuesday last A falcon towering in her pride of place Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd
And Duncan's horses-a thing most strange and certain- Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make War with mankind
'Tis said they eat each other
They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes That look'd upon't.
 Here comes the good Macduff
How goes the world, sir, now? MACDUFF
Why, see you not? ROSS
Is't known who did this more than bloody deed? MACDUFF
Those that Macbeth hath slain
Alas, the day! What good could they pretend? MACDUFF
They were suborn'd: Malcolm and Donalbain, the King's two sons, Are stol'n away and fled, which puts upon them Suspicion of the deed
'Gainst nature still! Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth
He is already named, and gone to Scone To be invested
Where is Duncan's body? MACDUFF
Carried to Colmekill, The sacred storehouse of his predecessors And guardian of their bones
Will you to Scone? MACDUFF
No, cousin, I'll to Fife
Well, I will thither
Well, may you see things well done there
Adieu, Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! ROSS
God's benison go with you and with those That would make good of bad and friends of foes! Exeunt.
 <<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY WITH PERMISSION
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Thou hast it now: King, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the weird women promised, and I fear Thou play'dst most foully for't; yet it was said It should not stand in thy posterity, But that myself should be the root and father Of many kings
If there come truth from them (As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine) Why, by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my oracles as well And set me up in hope? But hush, no more.
Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth as Queen, Lennox, Ross, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants.
Here's our chief guest
If he had been forgotten, It had been as a gap in our great feast And all thing unbecoming
Tonight we hold a solemn supper, sir, And I'll request your presence
Let your Highness Command upon me, to the which my duties Are with a most indissoluble tie Forever knit
Ride you this afternoon? BANQUO
Ay, my good lord
We should have else desired your good advice, Which still hath been both grave and prosperous In this day's council; but we'll take tomorrow
Is't far you ride? BANQUO
As far, my lord, as will fill up the time 'Twixt this and supper
Go not my horse the better, I must become a borrower of the night For a dark hour or twain
Fail not our feast
My lord, I will not
We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'd In England and in Ireland, not confessing Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers With strange invention
But of that tomorrow, When therewithal we shall have cause of state Craving us jointly
Hie you to horse; adieu, Till you return at night
Goes Fleance with you? BANQUO
Ay, my good lord
Our time does call upon 's
I wish your horses swift and sure of foot, And so I do commend you to their backs
Let every man be master of his time Till seven at night; to make society The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself Till supper time alone
While then, God be with you! Exeunt all but Macbeth and an Attendant
Sirrah, a word with you
Attend those men Our pleasure? ATTENDANT
They are, my lord, without the palace gate
Bring them before us
To be thus is nothing, But to be safely thus
Our fears in Banquo
Stick deep, and in his royalty of nature Reigns that which would be fear'd
'Tis much he dares, And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valor To act in safety
There is none but he Whose being I do fear; and under him My genius is rebuked, as it is said Mark Antony's was by Caesar
He chid the sisters When first they put the name of King upon me And bade them speak to him; then prophet-like They hail'd him father to a line of kings
Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand, No son of mine succeeding
If't be so, For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind, For them the gracious Duncan have I murther'd, Put rancors in the vessel of my peace Only for them, and mine eternal jewel Given to the common enemy of man, To make them kings the seed of Banquo kings! Rather than so, come, Fate, into the list, And champion me to the utterance! Who's there?
 Re-enter Attendant, with two Murtherers.
 Now go to the door, and stay there till we call
Was it not yesterday we spoke together? FIRST MURTHERER
It was, so please your Highness
Well then, now Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know That it was he in the times past which held you So under fortune, which you thought had been Our innocent self? This I made good to you In our last conference, pass'd in probation with you: How you were borne in hand, how cross'd, the instruments, Who wrought with them, and all things else that might To half a soul and to a notion crazed Say, "Thus did Banquo." FIRST MURTHERER
You made it known to us.
I did so, and went further, which is now Our point of second meeting
Do you find Your patience so predominant in your nature, 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 And beggar'd yours forever? FIRST MURTHERER
We are men, my liege
Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men, As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, Shoughs, waterrugs, and demi-wolves are clept All by the name of dogs
The valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, 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, Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say it, And I will put that business in your bosoms Whose execution takes your enemy off, Grapples you to the heart and love of us, Who wear our health but sickly in his life, Which in his death were perfect
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
And I another So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it or be rid on't.
Both of you Know Banquo was your enemy
True, my lord
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 With barefaced power sweep him from my sight 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 Who I myself struck down
And thence it is That I to your assistance do make love, Masking the business from the common eye For sundry weighty reasons
We shall, my lord, Perform what you command us
Though our lives- MACBETH
Your spirits shine through you
Within this hour at most I will advise you where to plant yourselves, Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time, The moment on't; for't must be done tonight And something from the palace (always thought That I require a clearness); and with him- To leave no rubs nor botches in the work- Fleance his son, that keeps him company, Whose absence is no less material to me Than is his father's, must embrace the fate Of that dark hour
Resolve yourselves apart; I'll come to you anon
We are resolved, my lord
I'll call upon you straight
It is concluded:
Banquo, thy soul's flight, If it find heaven, must find it out tonight
Is Banquo gone from court? SERVANT
Ay, madam, but returns again tonight
Say to the King I would attend his leisure For a few words
Madam, I will
Nought's had, all's spent, Where our desire is got without content
'Tis safer to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
 How now, my lord? Why do you keep alone, Of sorriest fancies your companions making, Using those thoughts which should indeed have died With them they think on? Things without all remedy Should be without regard
What's done is done
We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it
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
Come on, Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks; Be bright and jovial among your guests tonight
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
You must leave this
O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know'st that Banquo and his Fleance lives
But in them nature's copy's not eterne
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
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
But who did bid thee join with us? THIRD MURTHERER
He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers Our offices and what we have to do To the direction just
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
Hark! I hear horses
[Within.] Give us a light there, ho! SECOND MURTHERER
Then 'tis he; the rest That are within the note of expectation Already are i' the court
His horses go about
Almost a mile, but he does usually- So all men do -from hence to the palace gate Make it their walk.
A light, a light!
It will be rain tonight
Let it come down
They set upon Banquo
O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! Thou mayst revenge
O slave! Dies
Who did strike out the light? FIRST MURTHERER
Wast not the way? THIRD MURTHERER
There's but one down; the son is fled
We have lost Best half of our affair
Well, let's away and say how much is done
You know your own degrees; sit down
At first And last the hearty welcome
Thanks to your Majesty
Ourself will mingle with society And play the humble host
Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time We will require her welcome
Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends, For my heart speaks they are welcome.
See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks
Both sides are even; here I'll sit i' the midst
Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure The table round
[Approaches the door.] There's blood upon thy face
'Tis Banquo's then
'Tis better thee without than he within
Is he dispatch'd? MURTHERER
My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him
Thou art the best o' the cutthroats! Yet he's good That did the like for Fleance
If thou didst it, Thou art the nonpareil
Most royal sir, Fleance is 'scaped
[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? MURTHERER
Ay, my good lord
Safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head, The least a death to nature
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
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
Sweet remembrancer! Now good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both! LENNOX
May't please your Highness sit.
 The Ghost of Banquo enters and sits in Macbeth's place.
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! 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
Here is a place reserved, sir
Here, my good lord
What is't that moves your Highness? MACBETH
Which of you have done this? LORDS
What, my good lord? MACBETH
Thou canst not say I did it; never shake Thy gory locks at me
Gentlemen, rise; his Highness is not well
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
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
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
What, quite unmann'd in folly? MACBETH
If I stand here, I saw him
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
My worthy lord, Your noble friends do lack you
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
Our duties and the pledge
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
Think of this, good peers, But as a thing of custom
'Tis no other, Only it spoils the pleasure of the time
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
You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting, With most admired disorder
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
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
Good night, and better health Attend his Majesty! LADY MACBETH
A kind good night to all! Exeunt all but Macbeth and Lady Macbeth
It 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
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
You lack the season of all natures, sleep
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
Why, how now, Hecate? You look angerly
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
Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again
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
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
 <<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY WITH PERMISSION
ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED COMMERCIALLY
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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
By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes
Open, locks, Whoever knocks!
How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? What is't you do? ALL
A deed without a name
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
Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths, Or from our masters'? MACBETH
Call 'em, let me see 'em
Pour in sow's blood that hath eaten Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten From the murtherer's gibbet throw Into the flame
Come, high or low; Thyself and office deftly show!
First Apparition: an armed Head.
Tell me, thou unknown power- FIRST WITCH
He knows thy thought: Hear his speech, but say thou nought
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware Macduff, Beware the Thane of Fife
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.
Second Apparition: a bloody Child
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! MACBETH
Had I three ears, I'd hear thee
Be bloody, bold, and resolute: laugh to scorn The power of man, for none of woman born Shall harm 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.
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
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
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 highplaced 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
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
Show! SECOND WITCH
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.
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
The Witches dance and then vanish with Hecate
Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour Stand ay accursed in the calendar! Come in, without there!
What's your Grace's will? MACBETH
Saw you the weird sisters? LENNOX
No, my lord
Came they not by you? LENNOX
No indeed, my lord
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
Fled to England? LENNOX
Ay, my good lord
[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
What had he done, to make him fly the land? ROSS
You must have patience, madam
He had none; His flight was madness
When our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors
You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear
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
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
I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace and your discomfort
I take my leave at once
Sirrah, your father's dead
And what will you do now? How will you live? SON
As birds do, Mother
What, with worms and flies? SON
With what I get, I mean; and so do they
Poor bird! Thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime, The pitfall nor the gin
Why should I, Mother? Poor birds they are not set for
My father is not dead, for all your saying
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
Then you'll buy 'em to sell again
Thou speak'st with all thy wit, and yet, i' faith, With wit enough for thee
Was my father a traitor, Mother? LADY MACDUFF
Ay, that he was
What is a traitor? LADY MACDUFF.
Why one that swears and lies
And be all traitors that do so? LADY MACDUFF
Everyone that does so is a traitor and must be hanged
And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? LADY MACDUFF
Who must hang them? LADY MACDUFF
Why, the honest men
Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them
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
Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!
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
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?
Where is your husband? LADY MACDUFF
I hope, in no place so unsanctified Where such as thou mayst find him
He's a traitor
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.
Let us seek out some desolate shade and there Weep our sad bosoms empty
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
What I believe, I'll wail; 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
I am not treacherous
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
I have lost my hopes
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 leavetaking? I pray you, Let not my jealousies be your dishonors, But mine own safeties
You may be rightly just, Whatever I shall think
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
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
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
Not in the legions Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd In evils to top Macbeth
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
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
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
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
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
Scotland, Scotland! MALCOLM
If such a one be fit to govern, speak
I am as I have spoken
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 hereapproach, 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.
See, who comes here? MALCOLM
My countryman, but yet I know him not
My ever gentle cousin, welcome hither
I know him now
Good God, betimes remove The means that makes us strangers! ROSS
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
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
How does my wife? ROSS
And all my children? ROSS
The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? ROSS
No, they were well at peace when I did leave 'em
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
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
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
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
If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it
Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard
Humh! I guess at it
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
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
My children too? ROSS
Wife, children, servants, all That could be found
And I must be from thence! My wife kill'd too? ROSS
I have said
Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief
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
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
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
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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, I 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
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
You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should
Neither to you nor anyone, having no witness to confirm my speech.
 Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise, and, upon my life, fast asleep
Observe her; stand close
How came she by that light? GENTLEWOMAN
Why, it stood by her
She has light by her continually; 'tis her command
You see, her eyes are open
Ay, but their sense is shut
What is it she does now? Look how she rubs her hands
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
Yet here's a spot
Hark, she speaks! I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly
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
Go to, go to; you have known what you should not
She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that
Heaven knows what she has known
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
I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body
Well, well, wellGENTLEWOMAN
Pray God it be, sir
This disease is beyond my practice
Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds
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
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
Will she go now to bed? GENTLEWOMAN
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.
Good night, good doctor
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
Near Birnam Wood Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming
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
What does the tyrant? CAITHNESS
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
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
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
Or so much as it needs To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds
Make we our march towards Birnam
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.
 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
Go prick thy face and overred 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, wheyface? SERVANT
The English force, so please you
Take thy face hence
Seyton-I am sick at heart, When I behold- Seyton, I say!- This push Will chair me ever or disseat me now
I have lived long enough
My way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf, And that which should accompany old age, As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not
Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand That chambers will be safe
We doubt it nothing
What wood is this before us? MENTEITH
The Wood of Birnam
Let every soldier hew him down a bough, And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host, and make discovery Err in report of us
It shall be done
We learn no other but the confident tyrant Keeps still in Dunsinane and will endure Our setting down before't
'Tis his main hope; For where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the revolt, And none serve with him but constrained things Whose hearts are absent too
Let our just censures Attend the true event, and put we on Industrious soldiership
The time approaches That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have and what we owe
Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, But certain issue strokes must arbitrate
Towards which advance the war
Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still, "They come!" Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn
Here let them lie Till famine and the ague eat them up
Were they not forced with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home
A cry of women within
What is that noise? SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord
I have almost forgot the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek, and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in't
I have supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, Cannot once start me.
Wherefore was that cry? SEYTON
The Queen, my lord, is dead
She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death
Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more
It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
 Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly
Gracious my lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do it
Well, say, sir
As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The Wood began to move
Liar and slave! MESSENGER
Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so
Within this three mile may you see it coming; I say, a moving grove
If thou speak'st false, Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, Till famine cling thee; if thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much
I pull in resolution and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend That lies like truth
"Fear not, till Birnam Wood Do come to Dunsinane," and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane
Arm, arm, and out! If this which he avouches does appear, There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here
I 'gin to be aweary of the sun And wish the estate o' the world were now undone
Ring the alarum bell! Blow, wind! Come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.
Now near enough; your leavy screens throw down, And show like those you are
You, worthy uncle, Shall with my cousin, your right noble son, Lead our first battle
Worthy Macduff and we Shall take upon 's what else remains to do, According to our order
Fare you well
Do we but find the tyrant's power tonight, Let us be beaten if we cannot fight
Make all our trumpets speak, give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death
They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But bear-like I must fight the course
What's he That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none
 Enter young Siward.
What is thy name? MACBETH
Thou'lt be afraid to hear it
No, though thou call'st thyself a hotter name Than any is in hell
My name's Macbeth
The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear
No, nor more fearful
Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword I'll prove the lie thou speak'st
They fight, and young Seward is slain
Thou wast born of woman
But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born
That way the noise is
Tyrant, show thy face! If thou best slain and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still
I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms Are hired to bear their staves
Either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge, I sheathe again undeeded
There thou shouldst be; By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited
Let me find him, Fortune! And more I beg not
Why should I play the Roman fool and die On mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them.
Turn, hell hound, turn! MACBETH
Of all men else I have avoided thee
But get thee back, my soul is too much charged With blood of thine already
I have no words
My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out! They fight
Thou losest labor
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life, which must not yield To one of woman born
Despair thy charm, And let the angel whom thou still hast served Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripp'd
Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow'd my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believed That patter with us in a double sense, That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope
I'll not fight with thee
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." MACBETH
I will not yield, To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, And to be baited with the rabble's curse
Though Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou opposed, being of no woman born, Yet I will try the last
Before my body I throw my warlike shield! Lay on, Macduff, And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" Exeunt fighting
Enter, with drum and colors, Malcolm, old Siward, Ross, the other Thanes, and Soldiers.
I would the friends we miss were safe arrived
Some must go off, and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought
Macduff is missing, and your noble son
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
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
Had he his hurts before? ROSS
Ay, on the front
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
He's worth more sorrow, And that I'll spend for him
He's worth no more: They say he parted well and paid his score, And so God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.
 Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's head.
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
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