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- Herausgeber: Musaicum Books
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
William Shakespeare's Macbeth is a classic tragedy that delves into themes of ambition, power, and the consequences of unchecked desire. Written in Shakespeare's signature poetic style, the play showcases the author's ability to explore the depths of human nature and the psychology of its characters. Set in medieval Scotland, Macbeth follows the tragic downfall of the titular character as he and his wife plot to seize the throne with disastrous results. The play's supernatural elements, including witches and prophecies, add a layer of intrigue and suspense to the narrative. This timeless work continues to captivate audiences with its timeless themes and complex characters. In addition to the play itself, this edition includes a detailed biography of William Shakespeare, shedding light on the life and times of the infamous playwright. Readers will gain a greater understanding of the man behind the words, adding depth to their appreciation of his work. Macbeth is a must-read for anyone interested in classic literature and the enduring legacy of one of history's greatest writers.
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Macbeth
(Including The Biography of the Infamous Author)
Published by
Books
Table of Contents
Macbeth
Persons Represented
DUNCAN, King of Scotland. MALCOLM, his Son. DONALBAIN, his Son. MACBETH, General in the King’s Army. BANQUO, General in the King’s Army. MACDUFF, Nobleman of Scotland. LENNOX, Nobleman of Scotland. ROSS, Nobleman of Scotland. MENTEITH, Nobleman of Scotland. ANGUS, Nobleman of Scotland. CAITHNESS, Nobleman of Scotland. FLEANCE, Son to Banquo. SIWARD, Earl of Northumberland, General of the English Forces. YOUNG SIWARD, his Son. SEYTON, an Officer attending on Macbeth. BOY, Son to Macduff. An English Doctor. A Scotch Doctor. A Soldier. A Porter. An Old Man. LADY MACBETH. LADY MACDUFF. Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth. HECATE,and three Witches. Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, Attendants, and Messengers. The Ghost of Banquo and several other Apparitions.
SCENE: In the end of the Fourth Act, in England; through the rest of the Play, in Scotland; and chiefly at Macbeth’s Castle.
ACT I.
SCENE I. An open Place. Thunder and Lightning.
[Enter three Witches.]
FIRST WITCH. When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain? SECOND WITCH. When the hurlyburly’s done, When the battle’s lost and won. THIRD WITCH. That will be ere the set of sun. FIRST WITCH. Where the place? SECOND WITCH. Upon the heath. THIRD WITCH. There to meet with Macbeth. FIRST WITCH. I come, Graymalkin! ALL. Paddock calls:—anon:— Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air. [Witches vanish.]
SCENE II. A Camp near Forres.
[Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Soldier.]
DUNCAN. What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state. MALCOLM. 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. SOLDIER. Doubtful it stood; As two spent swimmers that do cling together And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald,— Worthy to be a rebel,—for to that The multiplying villainies of nature Do swarm upon him,—from the Western isles Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, Show’d like a rebel’s whore. But all’s too weak; For brave Macbeth,—well he deserves that name,— Disdaining fortune, with his brandish’d steel, Which smok’d with bloody execution, Like valor’s minion, Carv’d out his passag tTill he fac’d the slave; And 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. DUNCAN. O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! SOLDIER. As whence the sun ‘gins his reflection Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break; So from that spring, whence comfort seem’d to come Discomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark: No sooner justice had, with valor arm’d, Compell’d these skipping kerns to trust their heels, But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, With furbish’d arms and new supplies of men, Began a fresh assault. DUNCAN. Dismay’d not this Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? SOLDIER. 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. DUNCAN. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds; They smack of honor both.—Go, get him surgeons. [Exit Soldier, attended.]
Who comes here?
MALCOLM. The worthy Thane of Ross. LENNOX. What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look That seems to speak things strange. [Enter Ross.]
ROSS. God save the King! DUNCAN. Whence cam’st thou, worthy thane? ROSS. From Fife, great king; Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky And fan our people cold. Norway himself, with terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyal traitor The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict; Till that Bellona’s bridegroom, lapp’d in proof, Confronted him with self-comparisons, Point against point rebellious, arm ‘gainst arm, Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude, The victory fell on us. DUNCAN. Great happiness! ROSS. That now Sweno, the Norways’ king, craves composition; Nor would we deign him burial of his men Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme’s-inch, Ten thousand dollars to our general use. DUNCAN. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest:—go pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth. ROSS. I’ll see it done. DUNCAN. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. [Exeunt.]
SCENE III. A heath.
[Thunder. Enter the three Witches.]
FIRST WITCH. Where hast thou been, sister? SECOND WITCH. Killing swine. THIRD WITCH. Sister, where thou? FIRST WITCH. A sailor’s wife had chestnuts in her lap, And mounch’d, and mounch’d, and mounch’d:—“Give me,” quoth I: “Aroint thee, witch!” the rump-fed ronyon cries. Her husband’s to Aleppo gone, master o’ 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. SECOND WITCH. I’ll give thee a wind. FIRST WITCH. Thou art kind. THIRD WITCH. And I another. FIRST WITCH. I myself have all the other: And the very ports they blow, All the quarters that they know I’ the shipman’s card. I will drain him dry as hay: Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his penthouse lid; He shall live a man forbid: Weary seven-nights nine times nine Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine: Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tost.— Look what I have. SECOND WITCH. Show me, show me. FIRST WITCH. Here I have a pilot’s thumb, Wreck’d as homeward he did come. [Drum within.]
THIRD WITCH. A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come. ALL. The weird sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about: Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, And thrice again, to make up nine:— Peace!—the charm’s wound up. [Enter Macbeth and Banquo.]
MACBETH. So foul and fair a day I have not seen. BANQUO. How far is’t call’d to Forres?—What are these So wither’d, and so wild in their attire, That look not like the inhabitants o’ 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 chappy finger laying Upon her skinny lips:—you should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so. MACBETH. Speak, if you can;—what are you? FIRST WITCH. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! SECOND WITCH. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! THIRD WITCH. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter! BANQUO. Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear Things that do sound so fair?— I’ the name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace and great prediction Of noble having and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal:—to me you speak not: If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow, and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear Your favors nor your hate. FIRST WITCH. Hail! SECOND WITCH. Hail! THIRD WITCH. Hail! FIRST WITCH. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. SECOND WITCH. Not so happy, yet much happier. THIRD WITCH. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none: So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! FIRST WITCH. Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! MACBETH. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more: By Sinel’s death I know I am Thane of Glamis; But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman; and to be 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. [Witches vanish.]
BANQUO. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them:—whither are they vanish’d? MACBETH. Into the air; and what seem’d corporal melted As breath into the wind.—Would they had stay’d! BANQUO. Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner? MACBETH. Your children shall be kings. BANQUO. You shall be king. MACBETH. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so? BANQUO. To the selfsame tune and words. Who’s here? [Enter Ross and Angus.]
ROSS. The king hath happily receiv’d, Macbeth, The news of thy success: and when he 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 selfsame 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 defense, And pour’d them down before him. ANGUS. We are sent To give thee, from our royal master, thanks; Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee. ROSS. And, for an earnest of a greater honor, He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor: In which addition, hail, most worthy thane, For it is thine. BANQUO. What, can the devil speak true? MACBETH. The Thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me In borrow’d robes? ANGUS. Who was the Thane lives yet; But under heavy judgement 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 and vantage, or that with both He labour’d in his country’s wreck, I know not; But treasons capital, confess’d and proved, Have overthrown him. MACBETH. [Aside.] Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor: The greatest is behind.—Thanks for your pains.— 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? BANQUO. That, trusted home, Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But ‘tis strange: And oftentimes to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths; Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s In deepest consequence.— Cousins, a word, I pray you. MACBETH. [Aside.] Two truths are told, As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme.—I thank you, gentlemen.— [Aside.] 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. BANQUO. Look, how our partner’s rapt. MACBETH. [Aside.] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me Without my stir. BANQUO. New honors come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use. MACBETH. [Aside.] Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. BANQUO. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. MACBETH. Give me your favor:—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. BANQUO. Very gladly. MACBETH. Till then, enough.—Come, friends. [Exeunt.]
SCENE IV. Forres. A Room in the Palace.
[Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, and Attendants.] DUNCAN. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet return’d? MALCOLM. My liege, They are not yet come back. But I have spoke With one that saw him die: who did report, That very frankly he confess’d his treasons; 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. DUNCAN. There’s no art To find the mind’s construction in the face: He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust.— [Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Ross, and Angus.]
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, More is thy due than more than all can pay. MACBETH. The service and the loyalty I owe, In doing it, pays itself. Your highness’ part Is to receive our duties: and our duties Are to your throne and state, children and servants; Which do but what they should, by doing everything Safe toward your love and honor. DUNCAN. Welcome hither: I have begun to plant thee, and will labor 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. BANQUO. There if I grow, The harvest is your own. DUNCAN. 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 honor must Not unaccompanied invest him only, But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine On all deservers.—From hence to Inverness, And bind us further to you. MACBETH. The rest is labor, 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. DUNCAN. My worthy Cawdor! MACBETH. [Aside.] The Prince of Cumberland!—That is a step, On which I must fall down, or else o’erleap, For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires! Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand! yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. [Exit.]
DUNCAN. True, worthy Banquo!—he is full so valiant; And in his commendations I am fed,— It is a banquet to me. Let us after him, Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome: It is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. Exeunt.]
SCENE V. Inverness. A Room in Macbeth’s Castle.
[Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter.]
LADY MACBETH. “They met me in the day of success; and I have learned by the perfectest report they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who all-hailed me, ‘Thane of Cawdor’; by which title, before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of time, with ‘Hail, king that shalt be!’ This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness; that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell.”
Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art 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 wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou’dst have, great Glamis, That which cries, “Thus thou must do, if thou have it: And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.” Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; And chastise with the valor of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown’d withal. [Enter an Attendant.]
What is your tidings?
ATTENDANT. The king comes here tonight. LADY MACBETH. Thou’rt mad to say it: Is not thy master with him? who, were’t so, Would have inform’d for preparation. ATTENDANT. 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. LADY MACBETH. Give him tending; He brings great news. [Exit Attendant.]
The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here; And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts, And take my milk for gall, your 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!” [Enter Macbeth.]
Great Glamis! Worthy Cawdor! Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond This ignorant present, and I feel now The future in the instant. MACBETH. My dearest love, Duncan comes here tonight. LADY MACBETH. And when goes hence? MACBETH. Tomorrow,—as he purposes. LADY MACBETH. 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 despatch; Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. MACBETH. We will speak further. LADY MACBETH. Only look up clear; To alter favor ever is to fear: Leave all the rest to me. [Exeunt.]
SCENE VI. The same. Before the Castle.
[Hautboys. Servants of Macbeth attending.]
[Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lennox, Macduff, Ross, Angus, and Attendants.] DUNCAN. This castle hath a pleasant seat: the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. BANQUO. 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 coigne of vantage, but this bird hath made His pendant bed and procreant cradle: Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ’d The air is delicate. [Enter Lady Macbeth.]
DUNCAN. See, see, our honour’d hostess!— The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you How you shall bid God ild us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble. LADY MACBETH. All our service In every point twice done, and then done double, Were poor and single business to 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. DUNCAN. 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 tonight. LADY MACBETH. 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. DUNCAN. Give me your hand; Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly, And shall continue our graces towards him. By your leave, hostess. [Exeunt.]
SCENE VII. The same. A Lobby in the Castle.
[Hautboys and torches. Enter, and pass over, a Sewer and divers Servants with dishes and service. Then enter Macbeth.] MACBETH. 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 judgement 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-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off: And pity, like a naked newborn 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’erleaps itself, And falls on the other. [Enter Lady Macbeth.]
How now! what news?
LADY MACBETH. He has almost supp’d: why have you left the chamber? MACBETH. Hath he ask’d for me? LADY MACBETH. Know you not he has? MACBETH. We will proceed no further in this business: He hath honour’d me of late; and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon. LADY MACBETH. Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress’d yourself? hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valor As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem; Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,” Like the poor cat i’ the adage? MACBETH. Pr’ythee, peace! I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none. LADY MACBETH. What beast was’t, then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you 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. MACBETH. If we should fail? LADY MACBETH. We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep,— Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard 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 limbec only: when in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lie as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon His spongy officers; who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell? MACBETH. Bring forth men-children only; For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be 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 don’t? LADY MACBETH. Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar Upon his death? MACBETH. I am settled, and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know. [Exeunt.]
ACT II.
SCENE I. Inverness. Court within the Castle.
[Enter Banquo, preceeded by Fleance with a torch.]
BANQUO. How goes the night, boy? FLEANCE. The moon is down; I have not heard the clock. BANQUO. And she goes down at twelve. FLEANCE. I take’t, ‘tis later, sir. BANQUO. Hold, take my sword.—There’s husbandry in heaven; Their candles are all out:—take thee that too.— A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, And yet I would not sleep:—merciful powers, Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose!—Give me my sword. Who’s there? [Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch.]
MACBETH. A friend. BANQUO. What, sir, not yet at rest? The king’s a-bed: He hath been in unusual pleasure and Sent forth great largess to your officers: This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up In measureless content. MACBETH. Being unprepar’d, Our will became the servant to defect; Which else should free have wrought. BANQUO. All’s well. I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters: To you they have show’d some truth. MACBETH. I think not of them: Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, We would spend it in some words upon that business, If you would grant the time. BANQUO. At your kind’st leisure. MACBETH. If you shall cleave to my consent,—when ‘tis, It shall make honor for you. BANQUO. So I lose none In seeking to augment it, but still keep My bosom franchis’d, and allegiance clear, I shall be counsell’d. MACBETH. Good repose the while! BANQUO. Thanks, sir: the like to you! [Exeunt Banquo and Fleance.]
MACBETH. Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. [Exit Servant.]
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:— I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, 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; now 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, towards his design Moves like a ghost.—Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.—Whiles I threat, he lives; Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. [A bell rings.]
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven or to hell. [Exit.]
SCENE II. The same.
[Enter Lady Macbeth.]
LADY MACBETH. That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold: What hath quench’d them hath given me fire.—Hark!—Peace! It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern’st good night. He is about it: The doors are open; and the surfeited 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. MACBETH. [Within.] Who’s there?—what, ho! LADY MACBETH. 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 ‘em.—Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done’t.—My husband! [Re-enter Macbeth.]
MACBETH. I have done the deed.—Didst thou not hear a noise? LADY MACBETH. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did not you speak? MACBETH. When? LADY MACBETH. Now. MACBETH. As I descended? LADY MACBETH. Ay. MACBETH. Hark!— Who lies i’ the second chamber? LADY MACBETH. Donalbain. MACBETH. This is a sorry sight. [Looking on his hands.]
LADY MACBETH. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. MACBETH. There’s one did laugh in’s sleep, and one cried, “Murder!” That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them: But they did say their prayers, and address’d them Again to sleep. LADY MACBETH. There are two lodg’d together. MACBETH. One cried, “God bless us!” and, “Amen,” the other; As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands. Listening their fear, I could not say “Amen,” When they did say, “God bless us.” LADY MACBETH. Consider it not so deeply. MACBETH. But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”? I had most need of blessing, and “Amen” Stuck in my throat. LADY MACBETH. These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad. MACBETH. I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep,”—the innocent sleep; Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care, The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, Chief nourisher in life’s feast. LADY MACBETH. What do you mean? MACBETH. Still it cried, “Sleep no more!” to all the house: “Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more,—Macbeth shall sleep no more!” LADY MACBETH. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength to think So brainsickly of things.—Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand.— Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there: go carry them; and smear The sleepy grooms with blood. MACBETH. I’ll go no more: I am afraid to think what I have done; Look on’t again I dare not. LADY MACBETH. Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the 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. [Exit. Knocking within.]
MACBETH. Whence is that knocking? How is’t with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? Ha, they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red. [Re-enter Lady Macbeth.]
LADY MACBETH. My hands are of your color, but I shame To wear a heart so white. [Knocking within.] I hear knocking At the south entry:—retire we to our chamber. A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended.—[Knocking within.] Hark, more knocking: Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us And show us to be watchers:—be not lost So poorly in your thoughts. MACBETH. To know my deed, ‘twere best not know myself. [Knocking within.] Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst! [Exeunt.]
SCENE III. The same.
[Enter a Porter. Knocking within.]
PORTER. Here’s a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning the key. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock. Who’s there, i’ the name of Belzebub? Here’s a farmer that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty: come in time; have napkins enow about you; here you’ll sweat for’t.—[Knocking.] Knock, knock! Who’s there, in 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. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock! Who’s there? Faith, here’s an English tailor come hither, for stealing out of a French hose: come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose.— [Knocking.] Knock, knock: never at quiet! What are you?—But this place is too cold for hell. I’ll devil-porter it no further: I had thought to have let in some of all professions, that go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire. [Knocking.] Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.
[Opens the gate.]
[Enter Macduff and Lennox.]
MACDUFF. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, That you do lie so late? PORTER. Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock: and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.
MACDUFF. What three things does drink especially provoke? PORTER. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance: therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to: in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and giving him the lie, leaves him.
MACDUFF. I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. PORTER. 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.
MACDUFF. Is thy master stirring?— Our knocking has awak’d him; here he comes. [Enter Macbeth.]
LENNOX. Good morrow, noble sir! MACBETH. Good morrow, both! MACDUFF. Is the king stirring, worthy thane? MACBETH. Not yet. MACDUFF. He did command me to call timely on him: I have almost slipp’d the hour. MACBETH. I’ll bring you to him. MACDUFF. I know this is a joyful trouble to you; But yet ‘tis one. MACBETH. The labour we delight in physics pain. This is the door. MACDUFF. I’ll make so bold to call. For ‘tis my limited service. [Exit Macduff.]
LENNOX. Goes the king hence to-day? MACBETH. He does: he did appoint so. LENNOX. The night has been unruly: where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down: and, as they say, Lamentings heard i’ the air, strange screams of death; And prophesying, with accents terrible, Of dire combustion and 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. MACBETH. ‘Twas a rough night. LENNOX. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it. [Re-enter Macduff.]
MACDUFF. O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee! MACBETH, LENNOX. What’s the matter? MACDUFF. 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. MACBETH. What is’t you say? the life? LENNOX. Mean you his majesty? MACDUFF. Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon:—do not bid me speak; See, and then speak yourselves. [Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox.]
Awake, awake!— Ring the alarum bell:—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! [Alarum-bell rings.]
[Re-enter Lady Macbeth.]
LADY MACBETH. What’s the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? speak, speak! MACDUFF. O gentle lady, ‘Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: The repetition, in a woman’s ear, Would murder as it fell. [Re-enter Banquo.]
O Banquo, Banquo! Our royal master’s murder’d! LADY MACBETH. Woe, alas! What, in our house? BANQUO. Too cruel any where.— Dear Duff, I pr’ythee, contradict thyself, And say it is not so. [Re-enter Macbeth and Lennox, with Ross.]
MACBETH. 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. [Enter Malcolm and Donalbain.]
DONALBAIN. What is amiss? MACBETH. 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. MACDUFF. Your royal father’s murder’d. MALCOLM. O, by whom? LENNOX. 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. MACBETH. O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them. MACDUFF. Wherefore did you so? MACBETH. Who can be wise, amaz’d, temperate, and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: The expedition of my violent love Outrun the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan, His silver skin 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? LADY MACBETH. Help me hence, ho! MACDUFF. Look to the lady. MALCOLM. Why do we hold our tongues, That most may claim this argument for ours? DONALBAIN. 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. MALCOLM. Nor our strong sorrow Upon the foot of motion. BANQUO. Look to the lady:— [Lady Macbeth is carried out.]
And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet, And question this most bloody piece of work To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us: In the great hand of God I stand; and thence, Against the undivulg’d pretense I fight Of treasonous malice. MACDUFF. And so do I. ALL. So all. MACBETH. Let’s briefly put on manly readiness, And meet i’ the hall together. ALL. Well contented. [Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.]
MALCOLM. 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. DONALBAIN. 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. MALCOLM. 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. [Exeunt.]
SCENE IV. The same. Without the Castle.
[Enter Ross and an old Man.]
OLD MAN. 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. ROSS. 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? OLD MAN. ‘Tis unnatural, Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday last, A falcon, towering in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d. ROSS. 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. OLD MAN. ‘Tis said they eat each other. ROSS. They did so; to the amazement of mine eyes, That look’d upon’t. Here comes the good Macduff. [Enter Macduff.]
How goes the world, sir, now?
MACDUFF. Why, see you not? ROSS. Is’t known who did this more than bloody deed? MACDUFF. Those that Macbeth hath slain. ROSS. Alas, the day! What good could they pretend? MACDUFF. They were suborn’d: Malcolm and Donalbain, the king’s two sons, Are stol’n away and fled; which puts upon them Suspicion of the deed. ROSS. ‘Gainst nature still: Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Thine own life’s means!—Then ‘tis most like, The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. MACDUFF. He is already nam’d; and gone to Scone To be invested. ROSS. Where is Duncan’s body? MACDUFF. Carried to Colme-kill, The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, And guardian of their bones. ROSS. Will you to Scone? MACDUFF. No, cousin, I’ll to Fife. ROSS. Well, I will thither. MACDUFF. Well, may you see things well done there,—adieu!— Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! ROSS. Farewell, father. OLD MAN. God’s benison go with you; and with those That would make good of bad, and friends of foes! [Exeunt.]
ACT III.
SCENE I. Forres. A Room in the Palace.
[Enter Banquo.]
BANQUO. 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. [Sennet sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth as Queen; Lennox, Ross, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants.]
MACBETH. Here’s our chief guest. LADY MACBETH. If he had been forgotten, It had been as a gap in our great feast, And all-thing unbecoming. MACBETH. Tonight we hold a solemn supper, sir, And I’ll request your presence. BANQUO. Let your highness Command upon me; to the which my duties Are with a most indissoluble tie For ever knit. MACBETH. Ride you this afternoon? BANQUO. Ay, my good lord. MACBETH. 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 tomorrow. Is’t far you ride? BANQUO. As far, my lord, as will fill up the time ‘Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better, I must become a borrower of the night, For a dark hour or twain. MACBETH. Fail not our feast. BANQUO. My lord, I will not. MACBETH. We hear our bloody cousins are bestow’d In England and in Ireland; not confessing Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers With strange invention: but of that tomorrow; When therewithal we shall have cause of state Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu, Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? BANQUO. Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon’s. MACBETH. I wish your horses swift and sure of foot; And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell.— [Exit Banquo.]
Let every man be master of his time Till seven at night; to make society The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself Till supper time alone: while then, God be with you! [Exeunt Lady Macbeth, Lords, Ladies, &c.]
Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men Our pleasure? ATTENDANT. They are, my lord, without the palace gate. MACBETH. Bring them before us. [Exit Attendant.]
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 Caesar. He chid the sisters When first they put the name of king upon me, And bade them speak to him; then, prophet-like, They hail’d him father to a line of kings: Upon my head they 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?— [Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers.]
Now go to the door, and stay there till we call.
[Exit Attendant.]
Was it not yesterday we spoke together?
FIRST MURDERER. It was, so please your highness. MACBETH. 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.” FIRST MURDERER. You made it known to us. MACBETH. 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 forever? FIRST MURDERER. We are men, my liege. MACBETH. 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. SECOND MURDERER. 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. FIRST MURDERER. 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. MACBETH. Both of you Know Banquo was your enemy. BOTH MURDERERS. True, my lord. MACBETH. So is he mine; and in such bloody distance, That every minute of his being thrusts Against my near’st of life; and though I could With barefac’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 Who I myself struck down: and thence it is That I to your assistance do make love; Masking the business from the common eye For sundry weighty reasons. SECOND MURDERER. We shall, my lord, Perform what you command us. FIRST MURDERER. Though our lives— MACBETH. Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most, I will advise you where to plant yourselves; Acquaint you with the perfect spy o’ the time, The moment on’t; for’t must be done tonight And something from the palace; always thought That I require a clearness; and with him,— To leave no rubs nor botches in the work,— Fleance his son, that keeps him company, Whose absence is no less material to me Than is his father’s, must embrace the fate Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart: I’ll come to you anon. BOTH MURDERERS. We are resolv’d, my lord. MACBETH. I’ll call upon you straight: abide within. [Exeunt Murderers.]
It is concluded:—Banquo, thy soul’s flight, If it find heaven, must find it out tonight. [Exit.]
SCENE II. The same. Another Room in the Palace.
[Enter Lady Macbeth and a Servant.]
LADY MACBETH. Is Banquo gone from court? SERVANT. Ay, madam, but returns again tonight. LADY MACBETH. Say to the king, I would attend his leisure For a few words. SERVANT. Madam, I will. [Exit.]
LADY MACBETH. Naught’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. [Enter Macbeth.]
How now, my lord! why do you keep alone, Of sorriest fancies your companions making; Using those thoughts which should indeed have died With them they think on? Things without all remedy Should be without regard: what’s done is done. MACBETH. 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. LADY MACBETH. Come on; Gently my lord, sleek o’er your rugged looks; Be bright and jovial ‘mong your guests tonight. MACBETH. So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you: Let your remembrance apply to Banquo; Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue: Unsafe the while, that we Must lave our honors in these flattering streams; And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are. LADY MACBETH. You must leave this. MACBETH. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know’st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. LADY MACBETH. But in them nature’s copy’s not eterne. MACBETH. There’s comfort yet; they are assailable; Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown His cloister’d flight, ere to black Hecate’s summons, The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums, Hath rung night’s yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note. LADY MACBETH.
