< Shakespeare -- MACBETH >
< from Online Library of Liberty (http://oll.libertyfund.org) >
< Unicode .txt version by Mike Scott (http://www.lexically.net) >
< from "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare" >
< ed. with a glossary by W.J. Craig M.A. >
< (London: Oxford University Press, 1916) >
<STAGE DIR>
<Scene.—Scotland; England.>
</STAGE DIR>


<ACT 1>


<SCENE 1>
<A desert Heath.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches.>
</STAGE DIR>
<WITCH 1>	<0%>
	When shall we three meet again
	In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<1%>
	When the hurlyburly's done,
	When the battle's lost and won.
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 3>	<1%>
	That will be ere the set of sun.
</WITCH 3>

<WITCH 1>	<1%>
	Where the place?
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<1%>
	Upon the heath.
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 3>	<1%>
	There to meet with Macbeth.
</WITCH 3>

<WITCH 1>	<1%>
	I come, Graymalkin!
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<1%>
	Paddock calls.
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 3>	<1%>
	Anon.
</WITCH 3>

<ALL>	<1%>
	Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
	Hover through the fog and filthy air.
</ALL>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 1>


<SCENE 2>
<A Camp near Forres.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain,...>
<... Lennox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant.>
</STAGE DIR>
<DUNCAN>	<1%>
	What bloody man is that? He can report,
	As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
	The newest state.
</DUNCAN>

<MALCOLM>	<1%>
	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.
</MALCOLM>

<SERGEANT>	<1%>
	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 villanies 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 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 chaps,
	And fix'd his head upon our battlements.
</SERGEANT>

<DUNCAN>	<2%>
	O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!
</DUNCAN>

<SERGEANT>	<2%>
	As whence the sun 'gins his reflection
	Shipwracking 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 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.
</SERGEANT>

<DUNCAN>	<2%>
	Dismay'd not this
	Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?
</DUNCAN>

<SERGEANT>	<3%>
	Yes;
	As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.
	If I say sooth, I must report they were
	As cannons overcharg'd 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 tell—
	But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.
</SERGEANT>

<DUNCAN>	<3%>
	So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;
	They smack of honour both. Go, get him surgeons.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Sergeant, attended.>
</STAGE DIR>

</DUNCAN>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Ross.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Who comes here?
<MALCOLM>	<3%>
	The worthy Thane of Ross.
</MALCOLM>

<LENNOX>	<3%>
	What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look
	That seems to speak things strange.
</LENNOX>

<ROSS>	<3%>
	God save the king!
</ROSS>

<DUNCAN>	<3%>
	Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane?
</DUNCAN>

<ROSS>	<3%>
	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.—
</ROSS>

<DUNCAN>	<4%>
	Great happiness!
</DUNCAN>

<ROSS>	<4%>
	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.
</ROSS>

<DUNCAN>	<4%>
	No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive
	Our bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death,
	And with his former title greet Macbeth.
</DUNCAN>

<ROSS>	<4%>
	I'll see it done.
</ROSS>

<DUNCAN>	<4%>
	What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.
</DUNCAN>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 2>


<SCENE 3>
<A Heath.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Thunder. Enter the three Witches.>
</STAGE DIR>
<WITCH 1>	<4%>
	Where hast thou been, sister?
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<4%>
	Killing swine.
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 3>	<4%>
	Sister, where thou?
</WITCH 3>

<WITCH 1>	<4%>
	A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
	And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'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.
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<5%>
	I'll give thee a wind.
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 1>	<5%>
	Thou'rt kind.
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 3>	<5%>
	And I another.
</WITCH 3>

<WITCH 1>	<5%>
	I myself have all the other;
	And the very ports they blow,
	All the quarters that they know
	I' the shipman's card.
	I'll drain him dry as hay:
	Sleep shall neither night nor day
	Hang upon his pent-house 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-tost.
	Look what I have.
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<5%>
	Show me, show me.
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 1>	<5%>
	Here I have a pilot's thumb,
	Wrack'd as homeward he did come.
</WITCH 1>
<STAGE DIR>
<Drum within.>
</STAGE DIR>

<WITCH 3>	<5%>
	A drum! a drum!
	Macbeth doth come.
</WITCH 3>

<ALL>	<5%>
	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.

</ALL>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Macbeth and Banquo.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<5%>
	So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<5%>
	How far is 't call'd to Forres? What are these,
	So wither'd and so wild in their attire,
	That look not like th' 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.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<6%>
	Speak, if you can: what are you?
</MACBETH>

<WITCH 1>	<6%>
	All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<6%>
	All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 3>	<6%>
	All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.
</WITCH 3>

<BANQUO>	<6%>
	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 favours nor your hate.
</BANQUO>

<WITCH 1>	<7%>
	Hail!
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<7%>
	Hail!
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 3>	<7%>
	Hail!
</WITCH 3>

<WITCH 1>	<7%>
	Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<7%>
	Not so happy, yet much happier.
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 3>	<7%>
	Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:
	So, all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
</WITCH 3>

<WITCH 1>	<7%>
	Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
</WITCH 1>

<MACBETH>	<7%>
	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.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Witches vanish.>
</STAGE DIR>

<BANQUO>	<7%>
	The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
	And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<7%>
	Into the air, and what seem'd corporal melted
	As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<7%>
	Were such things here as we do speak about?
	Or have we eaten on the insane root
	That takes the reason prisoner?
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<8%>
	Your children shall be kings.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<8%>
	You shall be king.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<8%>
	And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<8%>
	To the self-same tune and words. Who's here?

</BANQUO>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Ross and Angus.>
</STAGE DIR>
<ROSS>	<8%>
	The king hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,
	The news of thy success; and when he reads
	Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
	His wonders and his praises do contend
	Which should be thine or his. Silenc'd with that,
	In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day,
	He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
	Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
	Strange images of death. As thick as hail
	Came post with post, and every one did bear
	Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
	And pour'd them down before him.
</ROSS>

<ANGUS>	<8%>
	We are sent
	To give thee from our royal master thanks;
	Only to herald thee into his sight,
	Not pay thee.
</ANGUS>

<ROSS>	<8%>
	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.
</ROSS>

<BANQUO>	<8%>
	What! can the devil speak true?
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<9%>
	The Thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
	In borrow'd robes?
</MACBETH>

<ANGUS>	<9%>
	Who was the thane lives yet;
	But under heavy judgment bears that life
	Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin'd
	With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
	With hidden help or vantage, or that with both
	He labour'd in his country's wrack, I know not;
	But treasons capital, confess'd and prov'd,
	Have overthrown him.
</ANGUS>

<MACBETH>	<9%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor:
	The greatest is behind. <STAGE DIR>
<To Ross and Angus.>
</STAGE DIR> Thanks for your pains.
<STAGE DIR>
<To Banquo.>
</STAGE DIR> Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
	When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me
	Promis'd no less to them?
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<9%>
	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's
	In deepest consequence.
	Cousins, a word, I pray you.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<9%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> Two truths are told,
	As happy prologues to the swelling act
	Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen.
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> This supernatural soliciting
	Cannot 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 suggestion
	Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
	And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
	Against the use of nature? Present fears
	Are less than horrible imaginings;
	My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
	Shakes so my single state of man that function
	Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
	But what is not.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<10%>
	Look, how our partner's rapt.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<10%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside>
</STAGE DIR> If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
	Without my stir.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<10%>
	New honours come upon him,
	Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
	But with the aid of use.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<10%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> Come what come may,
	Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<10%>
	Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<11%>
	Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought
	With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
	Are register'd where every day I turn
	The 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 speak
	Our free hearts each to other.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<11%>
	Very gladly.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<11%>
	Till then, enough. Come, friends.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 3>


<SCENE 4>
<Forres. A Room in the Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, and Attendants.>
</STAGE DIR>
<DUNCAN>	<11%>
	Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not
	Those in commission yet return'd?
</DUNCAN>

<MALCOLM>	<11%>
	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,
	Implor'd 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 ow'd,
	As 'twere a careless trifle.
</MALCOLM>

<DUNCAN>	<11%>
	There's no art
	To find the mind's construction in the face:
	He was a gentleman on whom I built
	An absolute trust.

<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Ross and Angus.>
</STAGE DIR>
	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 deserv'd,
	That the proportion both of thanks and payment
	Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
</DUNCAN>
	More is thy due than more than all can pay.
<MACBETH>	<12%>
	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 honour.
</MACBETH>

<DUNCAN>	<12%>
	Welcome hither:
	I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
	To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
	That hast no less deserv'd, nor must be known
	No less to have done so, let me infold thee
	And hold thee to my heart.
</DUNCAN>

<BANQUO>	<12%>
	There if I grow,
	The harvest is your own.
</BANQUO>

<DUNCAN>	<12%>
	My plenteous joys
	Wanton in fulness, 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 honour 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.
</DUNCAN>

<MACBETH>	<13%>
	The rest is labour, which is not us'd for you:
	I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful
	The hearing of my wife with your approach;
	So, humbly take my leave.
</MACBETH>

<DUNCAN>	<13%>
	My worthy Cawdor!
</DUNCAN>

<MACBETH>	<13%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step
	On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap,
	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.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

<DUNCAN>	<13%>
	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.
</DUNCAN>
<STAGE DIR>
<Flourish. Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 4>


<SCENE 5>
<Inverness. Macbeth's Castle.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter.>
</STAGE DIR>
	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 shall be!' This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou mightest 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 promis'd. 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 thou wouldst 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 tongue
	All that impedes thee from the golden round,
	Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem
	To have thee crown'd withal.
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter a Messenger.>
</STAGE DIR>
	What is your tidings?
<MESSENGER>	<15%>
	The king comes here to-night.
</MESSENGER>

<LADY MACBETH>	<15%>
	Thou'rt mad to say it.
	Is not thy master with him? who, were't so,
	Would have inform'd for preparation.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MESSENGER>	<15%>
	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.
</MESSENGER>

<LADY MACBETH>	<15%>
	Give him tending;
	He brings great news.—<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Messenger.>
</STAGE DIR> 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, you murdering 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!'

<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
	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
</LADY MACBETH>
	The future in the instant.
<MACBETH>	<16%>
	My dearest love,
	Duncan comes here to-night.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<16%>
	And when goes hence?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<16%>
	To-morrow, as he purposes.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<16%>
	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't. 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.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<17%>
	We will speak further.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<17%>
	Only look up clear;
	To alter favour ever is to fear.
	Leave all the rest to me.
</LADY MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 5>


<SCENE 6>
<The Same. Before the Castle.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Hautboys and torches. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain,...>
<... Banquo, Lennox, Macduff, Ross, Angus, and Attendants.>
</STAGE DIR>
<DUNCAN>	<17%>
	This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
	Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
	Unto our gentle senses.
</DUNCAN>

<BANQUO>	<17%>
	This guest of summer,
	The temple-haunting martlet, does approve
	By his lov'd mansionry that the heaven's breath
	Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,
	Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
	Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:
	Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'd
	The air is delicate.

</BANQUO>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Lady Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
<DUNCAN>	<18%>
	See, see, our honour'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 'eyld us for your pains,
	And thank us for your trouble.
</DUNCAN>

<LADY MACBETH>	<18%>
	All our service,
	In every point twice done, and then done double,
	Were poor and single business, to contend
	Against those honours 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.
</LADY MACBETH>

<DUNCAN>	<18%>
	Where's the Thane of Cawdor?
	We cours'd 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 to-night.
</DUNCAN>

<LADY MACBETH>	<18%>
	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.
</LADY MACBETH>

<DUNCAN>	<19%>
	Give me your hand;
	Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly,
	And shall continue our graces towards him.
	By your leave, hostess.
</DUNCAN>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 6>


<SCENE 7>
<The Same. A Room in the Castle.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Hautboys and torches. Enter, and pass over the stage,...>
<... a Sewer, and divers Servants with dishes and service. Then, enter Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<19%>
	If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well
	It were done quickly; if the assassination
	Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
	With his surcease success; that but this blow
	Might 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 cases
	We still have judgment here; that we but teach
	Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
	To plague the inventor; this even-handed justice
	Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
	To 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 Duncan
	Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
	So clear in his great office, that his virtues
	Will plead like angels trumpet-tongu'd against
	The deep damnation of his taking-off;
	And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
	Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd
	Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
	Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
	That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
	To prick the sides of my intent, but only
	Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself
	And falls on the other.—

</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Lady Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
	How now! what news?
<LADY MACBETH>	<20%>
	He has almost supp'd: why have you left the chamber?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<20%>
	Hath he ask'd for me?
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<20%>
	Know you not he has?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<20%>
	We will proceed no further in this business:
	He hath honour'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.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<20%>
	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 valour
	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?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<21%>
	Prithee, peace.
	I dare do all that may become a man;
	Who dares do more is none.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<21%>
	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 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.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<21%>
	If we should fail,—
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<22%>
	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?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<22%>
	Bring forth men-children only;
	For thy undaunted mettle should compose
	Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv'd,
	When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
	Of his own chamber and us'd their very daggers,
	That they have done't?
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<22%>
	Who dares receive it other,
	As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
	Upon his death?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<22%>
	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.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</MACBETH>

</SCENE 7>

</ACT 1>

<ACT 2>


<SCENE 1>
<Inverness. Court within the Castle.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Banquo and Fleance, with a Servant bearing a torch before him>
</STAGE DIR>
<BANQUO>	<23%>
	How goes the night, boy?
</BANQUO>

<FLEANCE>	<23%>
	The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.
</FLEANCE>

<BANQUO>	<23%>
	And she goes down at twelve.
</BANQUO>

<FLEANCE>	<23%>
	I take't, 'tis later, sir.
</FLEANCE>

<BANQUO>	<23%>
	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.

<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Give me my sword.—
</BANQUO>
	Who's there?
<MACBETH>	<23%>
	A friend.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<23%>
	What, sir! not yet at rest? The king's a-bed:
	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.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<23%>
	Being unprepar'd,
	Our will became the servant to defect,
	Which else should free have wrought.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<24%>
	All's well.
	I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:
	To you they have show'd some truth.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<24%>
	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.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<24%>
	At your kind'st leisure.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<24%>
	If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis,
	It shall make honour for you.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<24%>
	So I lose none
	In seeking to augment it, but still keep
	My bosom franchis'd and allegiance clear,
	I shall be counsell'd.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<24%>
	Good repose the while!
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<24%>
	Thanks, sir: the like to you.
</BANQUO>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt Banquo and Fleance.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACBETH>	<24%>
	Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready
	She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Servant.>
</STAGE DIR>
	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 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 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 murder,
	Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
	Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
	With Tarquin's ravishing strides, toward 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.
<STAGE DIR>
<A bell rings.>
</STAGE DIR>
	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.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 1>


<SCENE 2>
<The Same.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Lady Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
<LADY MACBETH>	<26%>
	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.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<26%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Within.>
</STAGE DIR> Who's there? what, ho!
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<26%>
	Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd,
	And 'tis not done; the attempt and not the deed
	Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready;
	He could not miss them. Had he not resembled
	My father as he slept I had done 't. My husband!

</LADY MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<26%>
	I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<26%>
	I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.
	Did not you speak?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<27%>
	When?
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<27%>
	Now.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<27%>
	As I descended?
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<27%>
	Ay.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<27%>
	Hark!
	Who lies i' the second chamber?
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<27%>
	Donalbain.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<27%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Looking on his hands>
</STAGE DIR> This is a sorry sight.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<27%>
	A foolish thought to say a sorry sight.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<27%>
	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 them
	Again to sleep.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<27%>
	There are two lodg'd together.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<27%>
	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!'
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<27%>
	Consider it not so deeply.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<27%>
	But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen?'
	I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen'
	Stuck in my throat.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<27%>
	These deeds must not be thought
	After these ways; so, it will make us mad.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<27%>
	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,—
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<28%>
	What do you mean?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<28%>
	Still it cried, 'Sleep no more!' to all the house:
	'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor
	Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!'
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<28%>
	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.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<28%>
	I'll go no more:
	I am afraid to think what I have done;
	Look on 't again I dare not.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<28%>
	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.
</LADY MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit. Knocking within.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACBETH>	<29%>
	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.

</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Lady Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
<LADY MACBETH>	<29%>
	My hands are of your colour, but I shame
	To wear a heart so white.—<STAGE DIR>
<Knocking within.>
</STAGE DIR> I hear a 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. <STAGE DIR>
<Knocking within.>
</STAGE DIR> Hark! more knocking.
	Get on your night-gown, lest occasion call us,
	And show us to be watchers. Be not lost
	So poorly in your thoughts.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<29%>
	To know my deed 'twere best not know myself.
<STAGE DIR>
<Knocking within.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 2>


<SCENE 3>
<The Same.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Knocking within. Enter a Porter.>
</STAGE DIR>
<PORTER>	<30%>
	Here's a knocking, indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate he should have old turning the key. 
<STAGE DIR>
<Knocking within.>
</STAGE DIR> Knock, knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of Beelzebub? Here's a farmer that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty: come in time; have napkins enough about you; here you'll sweat for 't. 
<STAGE DIR>
<Knocking within.> 
</STAGE DIR>
	Knock, knock! Who's there i' the 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. 
<STAGE DIR>
<Knocking within.> 
</STAGE DIR>
	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. 
<STAGE DIR>
<Knocking within.> 
</STAGE DIR>
	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. 
<STAGE DIR>
<Knocking within.> 
</STAGE DIR>
	Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.
<STAGE DIR>
<Opens the gate.>
</STAGE DIR>
</PORTER>

<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Macduff and Lennox.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACDUFF>	<31%>
	Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
	That you do lie so late?
</MACDUFF>

<PORTER>	<31%>
	Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock; and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.
</PORTER>

<MACDUFF>	<31%>
	What three things does drink especially provoke?
</MACDUFF>

<PORTER>	<31%>
	Marry, sir, mose-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.
</PORTER>

<MACDUFF>	<31%>
	I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.
</MACDUFF>

<PORTER>	<31%>
	That it did, sir, i' the very throat o' me: but I requited him for his lie; and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him.
</PORTER>

<MACDUFF>	<32%>
	Is thy master stirring?

</MACDUFF>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes.
<LENNOX>	<32%>
	Good morrow, noble sir.
</LENNOX>

<MACBETH>	<32%>
	Good morrow, both.
</MACBETH>

<MACDUFF>	<32%>
	Is the king stirring, worthy thane?
</MACDUFF>

<MACBETH>	<32%>
	Not yet.
</MACBETH>

<MACDUFF>	<32%>
	He did command me to call timely on him:
	I have almost slipp'd the hour.
</MACDUFF>

<MACBETH>	<32%>
	I'll bring you to him.
</MACBETH>

<MACDUFF>	<32%>
	I know this is a joyful trouble to you;
	But yet 'tis one.
</MACDUFF>

<MACBETH>	<32%>
	The labour we delight in physics pain.
	This is the door.
</MACBETH>

<MACDUFF>	<32%>
	I'll make so bold to call,
	For 'tis my limited service.
</MACDUFF>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

<LENNOX>	<32%>
	Goes the king hence to-day?
</LENNOX>

<MACBETH>	<32%>
	He does: he did appoint so.
</MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<32%>
	The night has been unruly: where we lay,
	Ourchimneys 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 confus'd events
	New hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure bird
	Clamour'd the livelong night: some say the earth
	Was feverous and did shake.
</LENNOX>

<MACBETH>	<33%>
	'Twas a rough night.
</MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<33%>
	My young remembrance cannot parallel
	A fellow to it.

</LENNOX>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Macduff.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACDUFF>	<33%>
	O horror! horror! horror! Tongue nor heart
	Cannot conceive nor name thee!
</MACDUFF>

<MACBETH>	<33%>
	What's the matter?
</MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<33%>
	What's the matter?
</LENNOX>

<MACDUFF>	<33%>
	Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
	Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
	The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
	The life o' the building!
</MACDUFF>

<MACBETH>	<33%>
	What is 't you say? the life?
</MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<33%>
	Mean you his majesty?
</LENNOX>

<MACDUFF>	<33%>
	Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
	With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak;
	See, and then speak yourselves.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Awake! awake!
	Ring the alarum-bell. Murder 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.
<STAGE DIR>
<Bell rings.>
</STAGE DIR>

</MACDUFF>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Lady Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
<LADY MACBETH>	<34%>
	What's the business,
	That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
	The sleepers of the house? speak, speak!
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACDUFF>	<34%>
	O gentle lady!
	'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak;
	The repetition in a woman's ear
	Would murder as it fell.

<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Banquo.>
</STAGE DIR>
	O Banquo! Banquo!
</MACDUFF>
	Our royal master's murder'd!
<LADY MACBETH>	<34%>
	Woe, alas!
	What! in our house?
</LADY MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<34%>
	Too cruel any where.
	Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself,
	And say it is not so.

</BANQUO>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Macbeth and Lennox.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<34%>
	Had I but died an hour before this chance
	I had liv'd 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.

</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Malcolm and Donalbain.>
</STAGE DIR>
<DONALBAIN>	<34%>
	What is amiss?
</DONALBAIN>

<MACBETH>	<34%>
	You are, and do not know 't:
	The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
	Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.
</MACBETH>

<MACDUFF>	<35%>
	Your royal father's murder'd.
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<35%>
	O! by whom?
</MALCOLM>

<LENNOX>	<35%>
	Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done 't:
	Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood;
	So were their daggers, which unwip'd we found
	Upon their pillows: they star'd, and were distracted; no man's life
	Was to be trusted with them.
</LENNOX>

<MACBETH>	<35%>
	O! yet I do repent me of my fury,
	That I did kill them.
</MACBETH>

<MACDUFF>	<35%>
	Wherefore did you so?
</MACDUFF>

<MACBETH>	<35%>
	Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate and furious,
	Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:
	The expedition of my violent love
	Outran the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan,
	His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood;
	And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature
	For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
	Steep'd in the colours 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?
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<35%>
	Help me hence, ho!
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACDUFF>	<35%>
	Look to the lady.
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<35%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside to Donalbain.>
</STAGE DIR> Why do we hold our tongues,
	That most may claim this argument for ours:
</MALCOLM>

<DONALBAIN>	<36%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside to Malcolm.>
</STAGE DIR> 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.
</DONALBAIN>

<MALCOLM>	<36%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside to Donalbain.>
</STAGE DIR> Nor our strong sorrow
	Upon the foot of motion.
</MALCOLM>

<BANQUO>	<36%>
	Look to the lady:
<STAGE DIR>
<Lady Macbeth is carried out.>
</STAGE DIR>
	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 undivulg'd pretence I fight
	Of treasonous malice.
</BANQUO>

<MACDUFF>	<36%>
	And so do I.
</MACDUFF>

<ALL>	<36%>
	So all.
</ALL>

<MACBETH>	<36%>
	Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
	And meet i' the hall together.
</MACBETH>

<ALL>	<36%>
	Well contented.
</ALL>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MALCOLM>	<36%>
	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.
</MALCOLM>

<DONALBAIN>	<36%>
	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.
</DONALBAIN>

<MALCOLM>	<37%>
	This murderous 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.
</MALCOLM>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 3>


<SCENE 4>
<The Same. Without the Castle.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Ross and an Old Man.>
</STAGE DIR>
<OLD MAN>	<37%>
	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.
</OLD MAN>

<ROSS>	<37%>
	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 travelling 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?
</ROSS>

<OLD MAN>	<37%>
	'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.
</OLD MAN>

<ROSS>	<38%>
	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.
</ROSS>

<OLD MAN>	<38%>
	'Tis said they eat each other.
</OLD MAN>

<ROSS>	<38%>
	They did so; to the amazement of mine eyes,
	That look'd upon 't. Here comes the good Macduff.

</ROSS>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Macduff.>
</STAGE DIR>
	How goes the world, sir, now?
<MACDUFF>	<38%>
	Why, see you not?
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<38%>
	Is 't known who did this more than bloody deed?
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<38%>
	Those that Macbeth hath slain.
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<38%>
	Alas, the day!
	What good could they pretend?
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<38%>
	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.
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<38%>
	'Gainst nature still!
	Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up
	Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like
	The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<39%>
	He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone
	To be invested.
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<39%>
	Where is Duncan's body?
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<39%>
	Carried to Colmekill;
	The sacred storehouse of his predecessors
	And guardian of their bones.
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<39%>
	Will you to Scone?
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<39%>
	No, cousin, I'll to Fife.
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<39%>
	Well, I will thither.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<39%>
	Well, may you see things well done there: adieu!
	Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<39%>
	Farewell, father.
</ROSS>

<OLD MAN>	<39%>
	God's benison go with you; and with those
	That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</OLD MAN>

</SCENE 4>

</ACT 2>

<ACT 3>


<SCENE 1>
<Forres. A Room in the Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Banquo.>
</STAGE DIR>
<BANQUO>	<39%>
	Thou hast it now: King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
	As the weird women promis'd; 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.

</BANQUO>
<STAGE DIR>
<Sennet sounded. Enter Macbeth, as king; Lady Macbeth,...>
<... as queen; Lennox, Ross, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<40%>
	Here's our chief guest.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<40%>
	If he had been forgotten
	It had been as a gap in our great feast,
	And all-thing unbecoming.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<40%>
	To-night we hold a solemn supper, sir,
	And I'll request your presence.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<40%>
	Let your highness
	Command upon me; to the which my duties
	Are with a most indissoluble tie
	For ever knit.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<40%>
	Ride you this afternoon?
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<40%>
	Ay, my good lord.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<40%>
	We should have else desir'd your good advice—
	Which still hath been both grave and prosperous—
	In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow.
	Is 't far you ride?
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<40%>
	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.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<40%>
	Fail not our feast.
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<40%>
	My lord, I will not.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<40%>
	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 to-morrow,
	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?
</MACBETH>

<BANQUO>	<41%>
	Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon 's.
</BANQUO>

<MACBETH>	<41%>
	I wish your horses swift and sure of foot;
	And so I do commend you to their backs.
	Farewell.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Banquo.>
</STAGE DIR>
	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!
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt all but Macbeth and an Attendant.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Sirrah, a word with you. Attend those men
	Our pleasure?
</MACBETH>

<ATTENDANT>	<41%>
	They are, my lord, without the palace gate.
</ATTENDANT>

<MACBETH>	<41%>
	Bring them before us. <STAGE DIR>
<Exit Attendant.>
</STAGE DIR> 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 valour
	To act in safety. There is none but he
	Whose being I do fear; and under him
	My genius is rebuk'd, as it is said
	Mark Antony's was by Cæsar. 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 plac'd 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 fil'd my mind;
	For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd;
	Put rancours 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?

<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Now go to the door, and stay there till we call.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Attendant.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Was it not yesterday we spoke together?
<MURDERER 1>	<42%>
	It was, so please your highness.
</MURDERER 1>

<MACBETH>	<43%>
	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 craz'd
	Say, 'Thus did Banquo.'
</MACBETH>

<MURDERER 1>	<43%>
	You made it known to us.
</MURDERER 1>

<MACBETH>	<43%>
	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 gospell'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 for ever?
</MACBETH>

<MURDERER 1>	<43%>
	We are men, my liege.
</MURDERER 1>

<MACBETH>	<43%>
	Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men;
	As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,
	Shoughs, water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are clept
	All by the name of dogs: the valu'd file
	Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
	The housekeeper, the hunter, every one
	According to the gift which bounteous nature
	Hath in him clos'd; 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.
</MACBETH>

<MURDERER 2>	<44%>
	I am one, my liege,
	Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
	Have so incens'd that I am reckless what
	I do to spite the world.
</MURDERER 2>

<MURDERER 1>	<44%>
	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.
</MURDERER 1>

<MACBETH>	<44%>
	Both of you
	Know Banquo was your enemy.
</MACBETH>

<MURDERER 2>	<44%>
	True, my lord.
</MURDERER 2>

<MACBETH>	<44%>
	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 bare-fac'd 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
	Whom 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.
</MACBETH>

<MURDERER 2>	<45%>
	We shall, my lord,
	Perform what you command us.
</MURDERER 2>

<MURDERER 1>	<45%>
	Though our lives—
</MURDERER 1>

<MACBETH>	<45%>
	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 to-night,
	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.
</MACBETH>

<MURDERER 2>	<45%>
	We are resolv'd, my lord.
</MURDERER 2>

<MACBETH>	<45%>
	I'll call upon you straight: abide within.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt Murderers.>
</STAGE DIR>
	It is concluded: Banquo, thy soul's flight,
	If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 1>


<SCENE 2>
<The Same. Another Room in the Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Lady Macbeth and a Servant.>
</STAGE DIR>
<LADY MACBETH>	<46%>
	Is Banquo gone from court?
</LADY MACBETH>

<SERVANT>	<46%>
	Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.
</SERVANT>

<LADY MACBETH>	<46%>
	Say to the king, I would attend his leisure
	For a few words.
</LADY MACBETH>

<SERVANT>	<46%>
	Madam, I will.
</SERVANT>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

<LADY MACBETH>	<46%>
	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.

<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
	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
</LADY MACBETH>
	Should be without regard: what's done is done.
<MACBETH>	<46%>
	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.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<47%>
	Come on;
	Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;
	Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<47%>
	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 honours in these flattering streams,
	And make our faces vizards to our hearts,
	Disguising what they are.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<47%>
	You must leave this.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<47%>
	O! full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife;
	Thou know'st that Banquo and his Fleance lives.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<47%>
	But in them nature's copy's not eterne.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<47%>
	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.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<48%>
	What's to be done?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<48%>
	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 marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still;
	Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill:
	So, prithee, go with me.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 2>


<SCENE 3>
<The Same. A Park, with a Road leading to the Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter three Murderers.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MURDERER 1>	<48%>
	But who did bid thee join with us?
</MURDERER 1>

<MURDERER 3>	<48%>
	Macbeth.
</MURDERER 3>

<MURDERER 2>	<48%>
	He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers
	Our offices and what we have to do
	To the direction just.
</MURDERER 2>

<MURDERER 1>	<49%>
	Then stand with us.
	The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:
	Now spurs the lated traveller apace
	To gain the timely inn; and near approaches
	The subject of our watch.
</MURDERER 1>

<MURDERER 3>	<49%>
	Hark! I hear horses.
</MURDERER 3>

<BANQUO>	<49%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Within.>
</STAGE DIR> Give us a light there, ho!
</BANQUO>

<MURDERER 2>	<49%>
	Then 'tis he: the rest
	That are within the note of expectation
	Already are i' the court.
</MURDERER 2>

<MURDERER 1>	<49%>
	His horses go about.
</MURDERER 1>

<MURDERER 3>	<49%>
	Almost a mile; but he does usually,
	So all men do, from hence to the palace gate
	Make it their walk.
</MURDERER 3>

<MURDERER 2>	<49%>
	A light, a light!
</MURDERER 2>

<MURDERER 3>	<49%>
	'Tis he.
</MURDERER 3>

<MURDERER 1>	<49%>
	Stand to 't.

</MURDERER 1>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Banquo and Fleance, with a torch.>
</STAGE DIR>
<BANQUO>	<49%>
	It will be rain to-night.
</BANQUO>

<MURDERER 1>	<49%>
	Let it come down.
</MURDERER 1>
<STAGE DIR>
<They set upon Banquo.>
</STAGE DIR>

<BANQUO>	<49%>
	O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!
	Thou mayst revenge. O slave!
</BANQUO>
<STAGE DIR>
<Dies. Fleance escapes.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MURDERER 3>	<49%>
	Who did strike out the light?
</MURDERER 3>

<MURDERER 1>	<49%>
	Was 't not the way?
</MURDERER 1>

<MURDERER 3>	<50%>
	There's but one down; the son is fled.
</MURDERER 3>

<MURDERER 2>	<50%>
	We have lost
	Best half of our affair.
</MURDERER 2>

<MURDERER 1>	<50%>
	Well, let's away, and say how much is done.
</MURDERER 1>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 3>


<SCENE 4>
<The Same. A Room of State in the Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<A Banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Ross, Lennox, Lords, and Attendants.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<50%>
	You know your own degrees; sit down: at first and last,
	The hearty welcome.
</MACBETH>

<LORDS>	<50%>
	Thanks to your majesty.
</LORDS>

<MACBETH>	<50%>
	Ourself will mingle with society
	And play the humble host.
	Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time
	We will require her welcome.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<50%>
	Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;
	For my heart speaks they are welcome.

</LADY MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter First Murderer, to the door.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<50%>
	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. <STAGE DIR>
<Approaching the door.>
</STAGE DIR> There's blood upon thy face.
</MACBETH>

<MURDERER>	<50%>
	'Tis Banquo's, then.
</MURDERER>

<MACBETH>	<51%>
	'Tis better thee without than he within.
	Is he dispatch'd?
</MACBETH>

<MURDERER>	<51%>
	My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.
</MURDERER>

<MACBETH>	<51%>
	Thou art the best o' the cut-throats; yet he's good
	That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,
	Thou art the nonpareil.
</MACBETH>

<MURDERER>	<51%>
	Most royal sir,
	Fleance is 'scap'd.
</MURDERER>

<MACBETH>	<51%>
	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?
</MACBETH>

<MURDERER>	<51%>
	Ay, my good lord; safe in a ditch he bides,
	With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
	The least a death to nature.
</MURDERER>

<MACBETH>	<51%>
	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; to-morrow
	We'll hear ourselves again.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Murderer.>
</STAGE DIR>

<LADY MACBETH>	<51%>
	My royal lord,
	You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold
	That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a-making,
	'Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home;
	From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony;
	Meeting were bare without it.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<52%>
	Sweet remembrancer!
	Now good digestion wait on appetite,
	And health on both!
</MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<52%>
	May it please your highness sit?
</LENNOX>
<STAGE DIR>
<The Ghost of Banquo enters, and sits in Macbeth's place.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACBETH>	<52%>
	Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,
	Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present;
	Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
	Than pity for mischance!
</MACBETH>

<ROSS>	<52%>
	His absence, sir,
	Lays blame upon his promise. Please 't your highness
	To grace us with your royal company.
</ROSS>

<MACBETH>	<52%>
	The table's full.
</MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<52%>
	Here is a place reserv'd, sir.
</LENNOX>

<MACBETH>	<52%>
	Where?
</MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<52%>
	Here, my good lord. What is 't that moves your highness?
</LENNOX>

<MACBETH>	<52%>
	Which of you have done this?
</MACBETH>

<LORDS>	<52%>
	What, my good lord?
</LORDS>

<MACBETH>	<52%>
	Thou canst not say I did it: never shake
	Thy gory locks at me.
</MACBETH>

<ROSS>	<52%>
	Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not well.
</ROSS>

<LADY MACBETH>	<52%>
	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?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<53%>
	Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
	Which might appal the devil.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<53%>
	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,
	Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself!
	Why do you make such faces? When all's done
	You look but on a stool.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<53%>
	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.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Ghost disappears.>
</STAGE DIR>

<LADY MACBETH>	<53%>
	What! quite unmann'd in folly?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<53%>
	If I stand here, I saw him.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<53%>
	Fie, for shame!
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<53%>
	Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,
	Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal;
	Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd
	Too terrible for the ear: the times have been,
	That, when the brains were out, the man would die,

	And there an end; but now they rise again,
	With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
	And push us from our stools: this is more strange
	Than such a murder is.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<54%>
	My worthy lord,
	Your noble friends do lack you.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<54%>
	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 of 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.
</MACBETH>

<LORDS>	<54%>
	Our duties, and the pledge.

</LORDS>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Ghost.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<54%>
	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.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<54%>
	Think of this, good peers,
	But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
	Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<55%>
	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 desart with thy sword;
	If trembling I inhabit then, protest me
	The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!
	Unreal mockery, hence!
<STAGE DIR>
<Ghost vanishes.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Why, so; being gone,
	I am a man again. Pray you, sit still.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<55%>
	You have displac'd the mirth, broke the good meeting,
	With most admir'd disorder.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<55%>
	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 are blanch'd with fear.
</MACBETH>

<ROSS>	<55%>
	What sights, my lord?
</ROSS>

<LADY MACBETH>	<55%>
	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.
</LADY MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<55%>
	Good-night; and better health
	Attend his majesty!
</LENNOX>

<LADY MACBETH>	<56%>
	A kind good-night to all!
</LADY MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt Lords and Attendants.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACBETH>	<56%>
	It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood:
	Stones have been known to move and trees to speak;
	Augurs and understood relations have
	By maggot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth
	The secret'st man of blood. What is the night?
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<56%>
	Almost at odds with morning, which is which.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<56%>
	How sayst thou, that Macduff denies his person
	At our great bidding?
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<56%>
	Did you send to him, sir?
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<56%>
	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 fee'd. I will to-morrow—
	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.
</MACBETH>

<LADY MACBETH>	<56%>
	You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MACBETH>	<57%>
	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.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 4>


<SCENE 5>
<A Heath.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecate.>
</STAGE DIR>
<WITCH 1>	<57%>
	Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly.
</WITCH 1>

<HECATE>	<57%>
	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 every thing 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.
<STAGE DIR>
<Song within, 'Come away, come away,' &c.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see,
	Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.
</HECATE>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

<WITCH 1>	<58%>
	Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.
</WITCH 1>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 5>


<SCENE 6>
<Forres. A Room in the Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Lennox and another Lord.>
</STAGE DIR>
<LENNOX>	<58%>
	My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,
	Which can interpret further: only, I say,
	Things 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?
</LENNOX>

<LORD>	<59%>
	The son of Duncan,
	From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
	Lives in the English court, and is receiv'd
	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 war-like 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 honours;
	All which we pine for now. And this report
	Hath so exasperate the king that he
	Prepares for some attempt at war.
</LORD>

<LENNOX>	<60%>
	Sent he to Macduff?
</LENNOX>

<LORD>	<60%>
	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.'
</LORD>

<LENNOX>	<60%>
	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 accurs'd!
</LENNOX>

<LORD>	<60%>
	I'll send my prayers with him!
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</LORD>

</SCENE 6>

</ACT 3>

<ACT 4>


<SCENE 1>
<A Cavern. In the middle, a boiling Cauldron.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Thunder. Enter the three Witches.>
</STAGE DIR>
<WITCH 1>	<61%>
	Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<61%>
	Thrice and once the hedge-pig whin'd.
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 3>	<61%>
	Harper cries: 'Tis time, 'tis time.
</WITCH 3>

<WITCH 1>	<61%>

	Round about the cauldron go,
	In the poison'd entrails throw.
	Toad, that under cold stone
	Days and nights hast thirty-one
	Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
	Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

</WITCH 1>

<ALL>	<61%>

	Double, double toil and trouble;
	Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

</ALL>

<WITCH 2>	<61%>

	Fillet of a fenny snake,
	In the cauldron boil and bake;
	Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
	Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
	Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
	Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing,
	For a charm of powerful trouble,
	Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

</WITCH 2>

<ALL>	<61%>

	Double, double toil and trouble;
	Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

</ALL>

<WITCH 3>	<61%>

	Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
	Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
	Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
	Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
	Liver of blaspheming Jew,
	Gall of goat, and slips of yew
	Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse,
	Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips,
	Finger of birth-strangled babe
	Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
	Make the gruel thick and slab:
	Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
	For the ingredients of our cauldron.

</WITCH 3>

<ALL>	<62%>

	Double, double toil and trouble;
	Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

</ALL>

<WITCH 2>	<62%>

	Cool it with a baboon's blood,
	Then the charm is firm and good.


</WITCH 2>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Hecate.>
</STAGE DIR>
<HECATE>	<62%>

	O! well done! I commend your pains,
	And every one shall share i' the gains.
	And now about the cauldron sing,
	Like elves and fairies in a ring,
	Enchanting all that you put in.
<STAGE DIR>
<Music and a song, 'Black Spirits,' &c.>
</STAGE DIR>

</HECATE>

<WITCH 2>	<62%>

	By the pricking of my thumbs,
	Something wicked this way comes.
	Open, locks,
	Whoever knocks.


</WITCH 2>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<62%>
	How now, you secret, black, and mid-night hags!
	What is 't you do?
</MACBETH>

<ALL>	<62%>
	A deed without a name.
</ALL>

<MACBETH>	<62%>
	I conjure you, by that which you profess,—
	Howe'er 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 lodg'd 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 germens tumble all together,
	Even till destruction sicken; answer me
	To what I ask you.
</MACBETH>

<WITCH 1>	<63%>
	Speak.
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<63%>
	Demand.
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 3>	<63%>
	We'll answer.
</WITCH 3>

<WITCH 1>	<63%>
	Say if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,
	Or from our masters'?
</WITCH 1>

<MACBETH>	<63%>
	Call 'em: let me see 'em.
</MACBETH>

<WITCH 1>	<63%>

	Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
	Her nine farrow; grease, that's sweaten
	From the murderer's gibbet throw
	Into the flame.

</WITCH 1>

<ALL>	<63%>

	Come, high or low;
	Thyself and office deftly show.


</ALL>
<STAGE DIR>
<Thunder. First Apparition of an armed Head.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<63%>
	Tell me, thou unknown power,—
</MACBETH>

<WITCH 1>	<63%>
	He knows thy thought:
	Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
</WITCH 1>

<APPARITION 1>	<63%>
	Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;
	Beware the Thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.
</APPARITION 1>
<STAGE DIR>
<Descends.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACBETH>	<64%>
	Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution thanks;
	Thou hast harp'd my fear aright. But one word more,—
</MACBETH>

<WITCH 1>	<64%>
	He will not be commanded: here's another,
	More potent than the first.

</WITCH 1>
<STAGE DIR>
<Thunder. Second Apparition, a bloody Child.>
</STAGE DIR>
<APPARITION 2>	<64%>
	Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!—
</APPARITION 2>

<MACBETH>	<64%>
	Had I three ears, I'd hear thee.
</MACBETH>

<APPARITION 2>	<64%>
	Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn
	The power of man, for none of woman born
	Shall harm Macbeth.
</APPARITION 2>
<STAGE DIR>
<Descends.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACBETH>	<64%>

	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.


<STAGE DIR>
<Thunder. Third Apparition, a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand.>
</STAGE DIR>
	What is this,
	That rises like the issue of a king,
	And wears upon his baby brow the round
</MACBETH>
	And top of sovereignty?
<ALL>	<64%>
	Listen, but speak not to 't.
</ALL>

<APPARITION 3>	<64%>
	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.
</APPARITION 3>
<STAGE DIR>
<Descends.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACBETH>	<65%>
	That will never be:
	Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
	Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
	Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood
	Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd 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?
</MACBETH>

<ALL>	<65%>
	Seek to know no more.
</ALL>

<MACBETH>	<65%>
	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?
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Hautboys.>
</STAGE DIR>

<WITCH 1>	<65%>
	Show!
</WITCH 1>

<WITCH 2>	<65%>
	Show!
</WITCH 2>

<WITCH 3>	<65%>
	Show!
</WITCH 3>

<ALL>	<65%>
	Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
	Come like shadows, so depart.

</ALL>
<STAGE DIR>
<A show of Eight Kings; the last with a glass in his hand: Banquo's Ghost following.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<66%>
	Thou art 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 two-fold 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.
<STAGE DIR>
<Apparitions vanish.>
</STAGE DIR>
	What! is this so?
</MACBETH>

<WITCH 1>	<66%>
	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 antick round,
	That this great king may kindly say,
	Our duties did his welcome pay.
</WITCH 1>
<STAGE DIR>
<Music. The Witches dance, and then vanish with Hecate.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACBETH>	<66%>
	Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour
	Stand aye accursed in the calendar!
	Come in, without there!

</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Lennox.>
</STAGE DIR>
<LENNOX>	<67%>
	What's your Grace's will?
</LENNOX>

<MACBETH>	<67%>
	Saw you the weird sisters?
</MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<67%>
	No, my lord.
</LENNOX>

<MACBETH>	<67%>
	Came they not by you?
</MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<67%>
	No indeed, my lord.
</LENNOX>

<MACBETH>	<67%>
	Infected be the air whereon they ride,
	And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear
	The galloping of horse: who was 't came by?
</MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<67%>
	'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word
	Macduff is fled to England.
</LENNOX>

<MACBETH>	<67%>
	Fled to England!
</MACBETH>

<LENNOX>	<67%>
	Ay, my good lord.
</LENNOX>

<MACBETH>	<67%>
	Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits;
	The flighty purpose never is o'ertook
	Unless the deed go with it; from this moment
	The very firstlings of my heart shall be
	The firstlings of my hand. And even now,
	To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:
	The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
	Seize upon Fife; give to the edge of 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 moresights! Where are these gentlemen?
	Come, bring me where they are.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 1>


<SCENE 2>
<Fife. Macduff's Castle.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Ross.>
</STAGE DIR>
<LADY MACBETH>	<68%>
	What had he done to make him fly the land?
</LADY MACBETH>

<ROSS>	<68%>
	You must have patience, madam.
</ROSS>

<LADY MACBETH>	<68%>
	He had none:
	His flight was madness: when our actions do not,
	Our fears do make us traitors.
</LADY MACBETH>

<ROSS>	<68%>
	You know not
	Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.
</ROSS>

<LADY MACBETH>	<68%>
	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.
</LADY MACBETH>

<ROSS>	<68%>
	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 rumour
	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!
</ROSS>

<LADY MACBETH>	<69%>
	Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
</LADY MACBETH>

<ROSS>	<69%>
	I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
	It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort:
	I take my leave at once.
</ROSS>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

<LADY MACBETH>	<69%>
	Sirrah, your father's dead:
	And what will you do now? How will you live?
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<69%>
	As birds do, mother.
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<69%>
	What! with worms and flies?
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<69%>
	With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<69%>
	Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the net nor lime,
	The pit-fall nor the gin.
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<69%>
	Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
	My father is not dead, for all your saying.
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<69%>
	Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou do for a father?
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<69%>
	Nay, how will you do for a husband?
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<70%>
	Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<70%>
	Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<70%>
	Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet, i' faith,
	With wit enough for thee.
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<70%>
	Was my father a traitor, mother?
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<70%>
	Ay, that he was.
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<70%>
	What is a traitor?
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<70%>
	Why, one that swears and lies.
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<70%>
	And be all traitors that do so?
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<70%>
	Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<70%>
	And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<70%>
	Every one.
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<70%>
	Who must hang them?
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<70%>
	Why, the honest men.
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<70%>
	Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men, and hang up them.
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<70%>
	Now God help thee, poor monkey!
	But how wilt thou do for a father?
</LADY MACBETH>

<SON>	<70%>
	If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.
</SON>

<LADY MACBETH>	<70%>
	Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!

</LADY MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter a Messenger.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MESSENGER>	<70%>
	Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
	Though in your state of honour 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.
</MESSENGER>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

<LADY MACBETH>	<71%>
	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 defence,
	To say I have done no harm?

</LADY MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Murderers.>
</STAGE DIR>
	What are these faces?
<MURDERER>	<71%>
	Where is your husband?
</MURDERER>

<LADY MACBETH>	<71%>
	I hope in no place so unsanctified
	Where such as thou mayst find him.
</LADY MACBETH>

<MURDERER>	<71%>
	He's a traitor.
</MURDERER>

<SON>	<71%>
	Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain.
</SON>

<MURDERER>	<71%>
	What! you egg.
	Young fry of treachery!
</MURDERER>
<STAGE DIR>
<Stabbing him.>
</STAGE DIR>

<SON>	<71%>
	He has killed me, mother:
	Run away, I pray you!
</SON>
<STAGE DIR>
<Dies.>
</STAGE DIR>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Lady Macduff, crying 'Murder,' and pursued by the Murderers.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 2>


<SCENE 3>
<England. Before the King's Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Malcolm and Macduff.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MALCOLM>	<72%>
	Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
	Weep our sad bosoms empty.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<72%>
	Let us rather
	Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men
	Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom; each new morn
	New widowshowl, 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 dolour.
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<72%>
	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, whosesole name blisters our tongues,
	Was once thought honest: you have lov'd 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.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<72%>
	I am not treacherous.
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<72%>
	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.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<73%>
	I have lost my hopes.
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<73%>
	Perchance even there where I did find my doubts.
	Why in that rawness left you wife and child—
	Those precious motives, those strong knots of love—
	Without leave-taking? I pray you,
	Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
	But mine own safeties: you may be rightly just,
	Whatever I shall think.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<73%>
	Bleed, bleed, poor country!
	Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,
	For goodness dares 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.
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<73%>
	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.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<74%>
	What should he be?
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<74%>
	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 compar'd
	With my confineless harms.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<74%>
	Not in the legions
	Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd
	In evils to top Macbeth.
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<74%>
	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 cistern 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.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<75%>
	Boundless intemperance
	In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
	Th' 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 inclin'd.
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<75%>
	With this there grows
	In my most ill-compos'd 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.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<75%>
	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.
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<76%>
	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.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<76%>
	O Scotland, Scotland!
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<76%>
	If such a one be fit to govern, speak:
	I am as I have spoken.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<76%>
	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 accurs'd,
	And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father
	Was a most sainted king; the queen that bore thee,
	Oft'ner upon her knees than on her feet,
	Died every day she liv'd. Fare thee well!
	These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself
	Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,
	Thy hope ends here!
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<77%>
	Macduff, this noble passion,
	Child of integrity, hath from my soul
	Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts
	To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
	By many of these trains hath sought to win me
	Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me
	From over-credulous haste; but God above
	Deal between thee and me! for even now
	I put myself to thy direction, and
	Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure
	The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
	For strangers to my nature. I am yet
	Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,
	Scarcely have coveted what was mine own;
	At no time broke my faith, would not betray
	The devil to his fellow, and delight
	No less in truth than life; my first false speaking
	Was this upon myself. What I am truly,
	Is thine and my poor country's to command;
	Whither indeed, before thy here-approach,
	Old Siward, with ten thousand war-like 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?
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<77%>
	Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
	'Tis hard to reconcile.

</MACDUFF>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter a Doctor.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MALCOLM>	<78%>
	Well; more anon. Comes the king forth, I pray you?
</MALCOLM>

<DOCTOR>	<78%>
	Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls
	That stay his cure; their malady convinces
	The great assay of art; but, at his touch,
	Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand,
	They presently amend.
</DOCTOR>

<MALCOLM>	<78%>
	I thank you, doctor.
</MALCOLM>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Doctor.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACDUFF>	<78%>
	What's the disease he means?
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<78%>
	'Tis call'd the evil:
	A most miraculous work in this good king,
	Which often, since my here-remain in England,
	I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
	Himself best knows; but strangely-visited people,
	All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
	The mere despair of surgery, he cures;
	Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
	Put on with holy prayers; and 'tis spoken
	To the succeeding royalty he leaves
	The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
	He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,
	And sundry blessings hang about his throne
	That speak him full of grace.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<78%>
	See, who comes here?
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<78%>
	My countryman; but yet I know him not.

</MALCOLM>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Ross.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACDUFF>	<79%>
	My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<79%>
	I know him now. Good God, betimes remove
	The means that make us strangers!
</MALCOLM>

<ROSS>	<79%>
	Sir, amen.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<79%>
	Stands Scotland where it did?
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<79%>
	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 rent 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.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<79%>
	O! relation
	Too nice, and yet too true!
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<79%>
	What's the newest grief?
</MALCOLM>

<ROSS>	<79%>
	That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker;
	Each minute teems a new one.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<79%>
	How does my wife?
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<79%>
	Why, well.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<79%>
	And all my children?
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<79%>
	Well too.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<79%>
	The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<79%>
	No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<80%>
	Be not a niggard of your speech: how goes 't?
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<80%>
	When I came hither to transport the tidings,
	Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
	Of many worthy fellows that were out;
	Which was to my belief witness'd the rather
	For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot.
	Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
	Would create soldiers, make our women fight,
	To doff their dire distresses.
</ROSS>

<MALCOLM>	<80%>
	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.
</MALCOLM>

<ROSS>	<80%>
	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.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<80%>
	What concern they?
	The general cause? or is it a fee-grief
	Due to some single breast?
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<80%>
	No mind that's honest
	But in it shares some woe, though the main part
	Pertains to you alone.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<80%>
	If it be mine
	Keep it not from me; quickly let me have it.
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<80%>
	Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
	Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
	That ever yet they heard.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<81%>
	Hum! I guess at it.
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<81%>
	Your castle is surpris'd; your wife and babes
	Savagely slaughter'd; to relate the manner,
	Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
	To add the death of you.
</ROSS>

<MALCOLM>	<81%>
	Merciful heaven!
	What! man; ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
	Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak
	Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<81%>
	My children too?
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<81%>
	Wife, children, servants, all
	That could be found.
</ROSS>

<MACDUFF>	<81%>
	And I must be from thence!
	My wife kill'd too?
</MACDUFF>

<ROSS>	<81%>
	I have said.
</ROSS>

<MALCOLM>	<81%>
	Be comforted:
	Let's make us medicine of our great revenge,
	To cure this deadly grief.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<81%>
	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?
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<81%>
	Dispute it like a man.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<81%>
	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!
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<82%>
	Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
	Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<82%>
	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!
</MACDUFF>

<MALCOLM>	<82%>
	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.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</MALCOLM>

</SCENE 3>

</ACT 4>

<ACT 5>


<SCENE 1>
<Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentle-woman.>
</STAGE DIR>
<DOCTOR>	<82%>
	I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?
</DOCTOR>

<GENTLEWOMAN>	<83%>
	Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown 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.
</GENTLEWOMAN>

<DOCTOR>	<83%>
	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?
</DOCTOR>

<GENTLEWOMAN>	<83%>
	That, sir, which I will not report after her.
</GENTLEWOMAN>

<DOCTOR>	<83%>
	You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should.
</DOCTOR>

<GENTLEWOMAN>	<83%>
	Neither to you nor any one, having no witness to confirm my speech.

</GENTLEWOMAN>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Lady Macbeth, with a taper.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Lo you! here she comes. This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.
<DOCTOR>	<83%>
	How came she by that light?
</DOCTOR>

<GENTLEWOMAN>	<83%>
	Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually; 'tis her command.
</GENTLEWOMAN>

<DOCTOR>	<83%>
	You see, her eyes are open.
</DOCTOR>

<GENTLEWOMAN>	<83%>
	Ay, but their sense is shut.
</GENTLEWOMAN>

<DOCTOR>	<84%>
	What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.
</DOCTOR>

<GENTLEWOMAN>	<84%>
	It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands. I have known her to continue in this a quarter of an hour.
</GENTLEWOMAN>

<LADY MACBETH>	<84%>
	Yet here's a spot.
</LADY MACBETH>

<DOCTOR>	<84%>
	Hark! she speaks. I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.
</DOCTOR>

<LADY MACBETH>	<84%>
	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?
</LADY MACBETH>

<DOCTOR>	<84%>
	Do you mark that?
</DOCTOR>

<LADY MACBETH>	<84%>
	The Thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now? What! will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.
</LADY MACBETH>

<DOCTOR>	<84%>
	Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.
</DOCTOR>

<GENTLEWOMAN>	<84%>
	She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known.
</GENTLEWOMAN>

<LADY MACBETH>	<84%>
	Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh!
</LADY MACBETH>

<DOCTOR>	<85%>
	What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.
</DOCTOR>

<GENTLEWOMAN>	<85%>
	I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body.
</GENTLEWOMAN>

<DOCTOR>	<85%>
	Well, well, well.
</DOCTOR>

<GENTLEWOMAN>	<85%>
	Pray God it be, sir.
</GENTLEWOMAN>

<DOCTOR>	<85%>
	This disease is beyond my practice: yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds.
</DOCTOR>

<LADY MACBETH>	<85%>
	Wash your hands, put on your night-gown; look not so pale. I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on 's grave.
</LADY MACBETH>

<DOCTOR>	<85%>
	Even so?
</DOCTOR>

<LADY MACBETH>	<85%>
	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.
</LADY MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

<DOCTOR>	<85%>
	Will she go now to bed?
</DOCTOR>

<GENTLEWOMAN>	<85%>
	Directly.
</GENTLEWOMAN>

<DOCTOR>	<85%>
	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 amaz'd my sight.
	I think, but dare not speak.
</DOCTOR>

<GENTLEWOMAN>	<86%>
	Good-night, good doctor.
</GENTLEWOMAN>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 1>


<SCENE 2>
<The Country near Dunsinane.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter, with drum and colours, Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, and Soldiers.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MENTEITH>	<86%>
	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.
</MENTEITH>

<ANGUS>	<86%>
	Near Birnam wood
	Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.
</ANGUS>

<CAITHNESS>	<86%>
	Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?
</CAITHNESS>

<LENNOX>	<86%>
	For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file
	Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son,
	And many unrough youths that even now
	Protest their first of manhood.
</LENNOX>

<MENTEITH>	<86%>
	What does the tyrant?
</MENTEITH>

<CAITHNESS>	<86%>
	Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies.
	Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him
	Do call it valiant fury; but, for certain,
	He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
	Within the belt of rule.
</CAITHNESS>

<ANGUS>	<86%>
	Now does he feel
	His secret murders 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.
</ANGUS>

<MENTEITH>	<87%>
	Who then shall blame
	His pester'd senses to recoil and start,
	When all that is within him does condemn
	Itself for being there?
</MENTEITH>

<CAITHNESS>	<87%>
	Well, march we on,
	To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd;
	Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal,
	And with him pour we in our country's purge
	Each drop of us.
</CAITHNESS>

<LENNOX>	<87%>
	Or so much as it needs
	To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds.
	Make we our march towards Birnam.
</LENNOX>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt, marching.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 2>


<SCENE 3>
<Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<87%>
	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 pronounc'd 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.

<STAGE DIR>
<Enter a Servant.>
</STAGE DIR>
	The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon!
</MACBETH>
	Where gott'st thou that goose look?
<SERVANT>	<88%>
	There is ten thousand—
</SERVANT>

<MACBETH>	<88%>
	Geese, villain?
</MACBETH>

<SERVANT>	<88%>
	Soldiers, sir.
</SERVANT>

<MACBETH>	<88%>
	Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
	Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
	Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
	Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, wheyface?
</MACBETH>

<SERVANT>	<88%>
	The English force, so please you.
</SERVANT>

<MACBETH>	<88%>
	Take thy face hence. <STAGE DIR>
<Exit Servant.>
</STAGE DIR> Seyton!—I am sick at heart
	When I behold—Seyton, I say!—This push
	Will cheer me ever or disseat me now.
	I have liv'd long enough: my way of life
	Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf;
	And that which should accompany old age,
	As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
	I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
	Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
	Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
	Seyton!

</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Seyton.>
</STAGE DIR>
<SEYTON>	<89%>
	What is your gracious pleasure?
</SEYTON>

<MACBETH>	<89%>
	What news more?
</MACBETH>

<SEYTON>	<89%>
	All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.
</SEYTON>

<MACBETH>	<89%>
	I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
	Give me my armour.
</MACBETH>

<SEYTON>	<89%>
	'Tis not needed yet.
</SEYTON>

<MACBETH>	<89%>
	I'll put it on.
	Send out more horses, skirr the country round;
	Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.
	How does your patient, doctor?
</MACBETH>

<DOCTOR>	<89%>
	Not so sick, my lord,
	As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
	That keep her from her rest.
</DOCTOR>

<MACBETH>	<89%>
	Cure her of that:
	Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd,
	Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
	Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
	And with some sweet oblivious antidote
	Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
	Which weighs upon the heart?
</MACBETH>

<DOCTOR>	<89%>
	Therein the patient
	Must minister to himself.
</DOCTOR>

<MACBETH>	<89%>
	Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
	Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff.
	Seyton, send out.—Doctor, the thanes fly from me.—
	Come, sir, dispatch.—If thou couldst, doctor, cast
	The water of my land, find her disease,
	And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
	I would applaud thee to the very echo,
	That should applaud again.—Pull 't off, I say.—
	What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug
	Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?
</MACBETH>

<DOCTOR>	<90%>
	Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
	Makes us hear something.
</DOCTOR>

<MACBETH>	<90%>
	Bring it after me.
	I will not be afraid of death and bane
	Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.
</MACBETH>

<DOCTOR>	<90%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
	Profit again should hardly draw me here.
</DOCTOR>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 3>


<SCENE 4>
<Country near Birnam Wood.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter, with drum and colours, Malcolm, Old Siward...>
<... and his Son, Macduff, Menteith, Catthness, Angus, Lennox, Ross, and Soldiers marching.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MALCOLM>	<90%>
	Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand
	That chambers will be safe.
</MALCOLM>

<MENTEITH>	<90%>
	We doubt it nothing.
</MENTEITH>

<SIWARD>	<91%>
	What wood is this before us?
</SIWARD>

<MENTEITH>	<91%>
	The wood of Birnam.
</MENTEITH>

<MALCOLM>	<91%>
	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.
</MALCOLM>

<SOLDIER>	<91%>
	It shall be done.
</SOLDIER>

<SIWARD>	<91%>
	We learn no other but the confident tyrant
	Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
	Our setting down before 't.
</SIWARD>

<MALCOLM>	<91%>
	'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.
</MALCOLM>

<MACDUFF>	<91%>
	Let our just censures
	Attend the true event, and put we on
	Industrious soldiership.
</MACDUFF>

<SIWARD>	<91%>
	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.
</SIWARD>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt, marching.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 4>


<SCENE 5>
<Dunsinane. Within the Castle.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter, with drum and colours, Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<92%>
	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 forc'd with those that should be ours,
	We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
	And beat them backward home.
<STAGE DIR>
<A cry of women within.>
</STAGE DIR>
	What is that noise?
</MACBETH>

<SEYTON>	<92%>
	It is the cry of women, my good lord.
</SEYTON>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACBETH>	<92%>
	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.

</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Seyton.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Wherefore was that cry?
<SEYTON>	<92%>
	The queen, my lord, is dead.
</SEYTON>

<MACBETH>	<92%>
	She should have died hereafter;
	There would have been a time for such a word.
	To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
	Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
	To the last syllable of recorded time;
	And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
	The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
	Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
	That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
	And then is heard no more; it is a tale
	Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
	Signifying nothing.

</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter a Messenger.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
<MESSENGER>	<93%>
	Gracious my lord,
	I should report that which I say I saw,
	But know not how to do it.
</MESSENGER>

<MACBETH>	<93%>
	Well, say, sir.
</MACBETH>

<MESSENGER>	<93%>
	As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
	I look'd towards Birnam, and anon, methought,
	The wood began to move.
</MESSENGER>

<MACBETH>	<93%>
	Liar and slave!
</MACBETH>

<MESSENGER>	<93%>
	Let me endure your wrath if't be not so:
	Within this three mile may you see it coming;
	I say, a moving grove.
</MESSENGER>

<MACBETH>	<93%>
	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.
</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 5>


<SCENE 6>
<The Same. A Plain before the Castle.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter, with drum and colours, Malcolm, Old Siward, Macduff, &c., and their Army, with boughs.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MALCOLM>	<94%>
	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.
</MALCOLM>

<SIWARD>	<94%>
	Fare you well.
	Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
	Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.
</SIWARD>

<MACDUFF>	<94%>
	Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,
	Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.
</MACDUFF>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 6>


<SCENE 7>
<The Same. Another Part of the Plain.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Alarums. Enter Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<95%>
	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.

</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Young Siward.>
</STAGE DIR>
<YOUNG SIWARD>	<95%>
	What is thy name?
</YOUNG SIWARD>

<MACBETH>	<95%>
	Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.
</MACBETH>

<YOUNG SIWARD>	<95%>
	No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
	Than any is in hell.
</YOUNG SIWARD>

<MACBETH>	<95%>
	My name's Macbeth.
</MACBETH>

<YOUNG SIWARD>	<95%>
	The devil himself could not pronounce a title
	More hateful to mine ear.
</YOUNG SIWARD>

<MACBETH>	<95%>
	No, nor more fearful.
</MACBETH>

<YOUNG SIWARD>	<95%>
	Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
	I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.
</YOUNG SIWARD>
<STAGE DIR>
<They fight and Young Siward is slain.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACBETH>	<95%>
	Thou wast born of woman:
	But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
	Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Alarums. Enter Macduff.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACDUFF>	<95%>
	That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face:
	If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine,
	My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
	I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms
	Are hir'd 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.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit. Alarums.>
</STAGE DIR>

</MACDUFF>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Malcolm and Old Siward.>
</STAGE DIR>
<SIWARD>	<96%>
	This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd:
	The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;
	The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
	The day almost itself professes yours,
	And little is to do.
</SIWARD>

<MALCOLM>	<96%>
	We have met with foes
	That strike beside us.
</MALCOLM>

<SIWARD>	<96%>
	Enter, sir, the castle.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt. Alarums.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SIWARD>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Macbeth.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACBETH>	<96%>
	Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
	On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
	Do better upon them.

</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Macduff.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACDUFF>	<96%>
	Turn, hell-hound, turn!
</MACDUFF>

<MACBETH>	<97%>
	Of all men else I have avoided thee:
	But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd
	With blood of thine already.
</MACBETH>

<MACDUFF>	<97%>
	I have no words;
	My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain
	Than terms can give thee out!
</MACDUFF>
<STAGE DIR>
<They fight.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MACBETH>	<97%>
	Thou losest labour:
	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.
</MACBETH>

<MACDUFF>	<97%>
	Despair thy charm;
	And let the angel whom thou still hast serv'd
	Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
	Untimely ripp'd.
</MACDUFF>

<MACBETH>	<97%>
	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 believ'd,
	That palter with us in a double sense;
	That keep the word of promise to our ear,
	And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.
</MACBETH>

<MACDUFF>	<97%>
	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.'
</MACDUFF>

<MACBETH>	<98%>
	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 oppos'd, being of no woman born,
	Yet I will try the last: before my body
	I throw my war-like shield. Lay on, Macduff,
	And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt, fighting.>
</STAGE DIR>

</MACBETH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with drum and colours,...>
<... Malcolm, Old Siward, Ross, Thanes, and Soldiers.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MALCOLM>	<98%>
	I would the friends we miss were safe arriv'd.
</MALCOLM>

<SIWARD>	<98%>
	Some must go off; and yet, by these I see,
	So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
</SIWARD>

<MALCOLM>	<98%>
	Macduff is missing, and your noble son.
</MALCOLM>

<ROSS>	<98%>
	Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
	He only liv'd 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.
</ROSS>

<SIWARD>	<98%>
	Then he is dead?
</SIWARD>

<ROSS>	<98%>
	Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow
	Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
	It hath no end.
</ROSS>

<SIWARD>	<99%>
	Had he his hurts before?
</SIWARD>

<ROSS>	<99%>
	Ay, on the front.
</ROSS>

<SIWARD>	<99%>
	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.
</SIWARD>

<MALCOLM>	<99%>
	He's worth more sorrow,
	And that I'll spend for him.
</MALCOLM>

<SIWARD>	<99%>
	He's worth no more;
	They say, he parted well, and paid his score:
	And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.

</SIWARD>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's head.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MACDUFF>	<99%>
	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!
</MACDUFF>

<ALL>	<99%>
	Hail, King of Scotland!
</ALL>
<STAGE DIR>
<Flourish.>
</STAGE DIR>

<MALCOLM>	<99%>
	We shall not spend a large expense of time
	Before we reckon with your several loves,
	And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
	Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
	In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do,
	Which would be planted newly with the time,
	As calling home our exil'd 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.
</MALCOLM>
<STAGE DIR>
<Flourish. Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>
</SCENE 7>
</ACT 5>
