University of Virginia Library

Actus Quintus.

Scena Prima.

Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting Gentlewoman.
Doct.

I haue too Nights watch'd with you, but can
perceiue no truth in your report. When was it shee last
walk'd?

Gent.

Since his Maiesty went into the Field, I haue
seene her rise from her bed, throw her Night-Gown vppon
her, vnlocke her Closset, take foorth paper, folde it,
write vpon't, read it, afterwards Seale it, and againe returne
to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleepe.

Doct.

A great perturbation in Nature, to receyue at
once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching.
In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other
actuall performances, what (at any time) haue you heard
her say?

Gent.

That Sir, which I will not report after her.

Doct.
You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should.

Gent.

Neither to you, nor any one, hauing no witnesse
to confirme my speech.

Enter Lady, with a Taper.

Lo you, heere she comes: This is her very guise, and vpon
my life fast asleepe: obserue her, stand close.

Doct.

How came she by that light?

Gent.

Why it stood by her: she ha's light by her continually,
'tis her command.

Doct.
You see her eyes are open.

Gent.
I but their sense are shut.

Doct.
What is it she do's now?
Look how she rubbes her hands.

Gent.

It is an accustom'd action with her, to seeme
thus washing her hands: I haue knowne her continue in
this a quarter of an houre.

Lad.

Yet heere's a spot.

Doct.

Heark, she speaks, I will set downe what comes
from her, to satisfie my remembrance the more strongly.

La.

Out damned spot: out I say. One: Two: Why
then 'tis time to doo't: Hell is murky. Fye, my Lord, fie,
a Souldier, and affear'd? what need we feare? who knowes
it, when none can call our powre to accompt: yet who
would haue thought the olde man to haue had so much
blood in him.

Doct.

Do you marke that?

Lad.

The Thane of Fife, had a wife: where is she now?
What will these hands ne're be cleane? No more o'that
my Lord, no more o'that: you marre all with this starting.

Doct.
Go too, go too:
You haue knowne what you should not.

Gent.

She ha's spoke what shee should not, I am sure
of that: Heauen knowes what she ha's knowne.

La.

Heere's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes
of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.

Oh, oh, oh.

Doct.
What a sigh is there? The hart is sorely charg'd.

Gent.

I would not haue such a heart in my bosome,
for the dignity of the whole body.

Doct.
Well, well, well.

Gent.
Pray God it be sir.

Doct.

This disease is beyond my practise: yet I haue
knowne those which haue walkt in their sleep, who haue
dyed holily in their beds.

Lad.

Wash your hands, put on your Night-Gowne,
looke not so pale: I tell you yet againe Banquo's buried;
he cannot come out on's graue.

Doct.

Euen so?

Lady.

To bed, to bed: there's knocking at the gate:
Come, come, come, come, giue me your hand: What's
done, cannot be vndone. To bed, to bed, to bed.

Exit Lady.

Doct.
Will she go now to bed?

Gent.
Directly.

Doct.
Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds
Do breed vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes
To their deafe pillowes will discharge their Secrets:
More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian:
God, God forgiue vs all. Looke after her,
Remoue from her the meanes of all annoyance,
And still keepe eyes vpon her: So goodnight,
My minde she ha's mated, and amaz'd my sight.
I thinke, but dare not speake.

Gent.
Good night good Doctor.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Drum and Colours. Enter Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, Lenox, Soldiers.
Ment.
The English powre is neere, led on by Malcolm,
His Vnkle Seyward, and the good Macduff.
Reuenges burne in them: for their deere causes
Would to the bleeding, and the grim Alarme
Excite the mortified man.

Ang.
Neere Byrnan wood
Shall we well meet them, that way are they comming

Cath.
Who knowes if Donalbane be with his brother?

Len.
For certaine Sir, he is not: I haue a File
Of all the Gentry; there is Seywards Sonne,
And many vnruffe youths, that euen now
Protest their first of Manhood.

Ment.
What do's the Tyrant.

Cath.
Great Dunsinane he strongly Fortifies:
Some say hee's mad: Others, that lesser hate him,
Do call it valiant Fury, but for certaine
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Within the belt of Rule.

Ang.
Now do's he feele
His secret Murthers sticking on his hands,
Now minutely Reuolts vpbraid his Faith-breach:
Those he commands, moue onely in command,
Nothing in loue: Now do's he feele his Title
Hang loose about him, like a Giants Robe
Vpon a dwarfish Theefe.

Ment.
Who then shall blame
His pester'd Senses to recoyle, and start,
When all that is within him, do's condemne
It selfe, for being there.

Cath.
Well, march we on,
To giue Obedience, where 'tis truly ow'd:
Meet we the Med'cine of the sickly Weale,
And with him poure we in our Countries purge,
Each drop of vs.

Lenox.
Or so much as it needes,
To dew the Soueraigne Flower, and drowne the Weeds:
Make we our March towards Birnan.

Exeunt marching.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.
Macb.
Bring me no more Reports, let them flye all:
Till Byrnane wood remoue to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with Feare. What's the Boy Malcolme?
Was he not borne of woman? The Spirits that know
All mortall Consequences, haue pronounc'd me thus:
Feare not Macbeth, no man that's borne of woman
Shall ere haue power vpon thee. Then fly false Thanes,
And mingle with the English Epicures,
The minde I sway by, and the heart I beare,
Shall neuer sagge with doubt, nor shake with feare.
Enter Seruant.
The diuell damne thee blacke, thou cream-fac'd Loone:
Where got'st thou that Goose-looke.

Ser.
There is ten thousand.

Macb.
Geese Villaine?

Ser.
Souldiers Sir.

Macb.
Go pricke thy face, and ouer-red thy feare
Thou Lilly-liuer'd Boy. What Soldiers, Patch?
Death of thy Soule, those Linnen cheekes of thine
Are Counsailers to feare. What Soldiers Whay-face?

Ser.
The English Force, so please you.

Macb.
Take thy face hence. Seyton, I am sick at hart,
When I behold: Seyton, I say, this push
Will cheere me euer, or dis-eate me now.
I haue liu'd long enough: my way of life
Is falne into the Seare, the yellow Leafe,
And that which should accompany Old-Age,
As Honor, Loue, Obedience, Troopes of Friends,
I must not looke to haue: but in their steed,
Curses, not lowd but deepe, Mouth-honor, breath
Which the poore heart would faine deny, and dare not.
Seyton?

Enter Seyton.
Sey.
What's your gracious pleasure?

Macb.
What Newes more?

Sey.
All is confirm'd my Lord, which was reported.

Macb.
Ile fight, till from my bones, my flesh be hackt.
Giue me my Armor.

Seyt.
'Tis not needed yet.

Macb.
Ile put it on:
Send out moe Horses, skirre the Country round,
Hang those that talke of Feare. Giue me mine Armor:
How do's your Patient, Doctor?

Doct.
Not so sicke my Lord,
As she is troubled with thicke-comming Fancies
That keepe her from her rest.

Macb.
Cure of that:
Can'st thou not Minister to a minde diseas'd,
Plucke from the Memory a rooted Sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the Braine,
And with some sweet Obliuious Antidote
Cleanse the stufft bosome, of that perillous stuffe
Which weighes vpon the heart?

Doct.
Therein the Patient
Must minister to himselfe.

Macb.
Throw Physicke to the Dogs, Ile none of it.
Come, put mine Armour on: giue me my Staffe:
Seyton, send out: Doctor, the Thanes flye from me:
Come sir, dispatch. If thou could'st Doctor, cast
The Water of my Land, finde her Disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristiue Health,
I would applaud thee to the very Eccho,
That should applaud againe. Pull't off I say,
What Rubarb, Cyme, or what Purgatiue drugge
Would scowre these English hence: hear'st yu of them?

Doct.
I my good Lord: your Royall Preparation
Makes vs heare something.

Macb.
Bring it after me:
I will not be affraid of Death and Bane,
Till Birnane Forrest come to Dunsinane.

Doct.
Were I from Dunsinane away, and cleere,
Profit againe should hardly draw me heere.

Exeunt

Scena Quarta.

Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, Seywards Sonne, Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, and Soldiers Marching.
Malc.
Cosins, I hope the dayes are neere at hand
That Chambers will be safe.

Ment.
We doubt it nothing.

Syew.
What wood is this before vs?

Ment.
The wood of Birnane.

Malc.
Let euery Souldier hew him downe a Bough,
And bear't before him, thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our Hoast, and make discouery
Erre in report of vs.

Sold.
It shall be done.

Syw.
We learne no other, but the confident Tyrant
Keepes still in Dunsinane, and will indure
Our setting downe befor't.

Malc.
'Tis his maine hope:
For where there is aduantage to be giuen,
Both more and lesse haue giuen him the Reuolt,
And none serue with him, but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.

Macd.
Let our iust Censures
Attend the true euent, and put we on
Industrious Souldiership.

Sey.
The time approaches,
That will with due decision make vs know
What we shall say we haue, and what we owe:
Thoughts speculatiue, their vnsure hopes relate,
But certaine issue, stroakes must arbitrate,
Towards which, aduance the warre.

Exeunt marching

Scena Quinta.

Enter Macbeth, Seyton, & Souldiers, with Drum and Colours.
Macb.
Hang out our Banners on the outward walls,
The Cry is still, they come: our Castles strenght
Will laugh a Siedge to scorne: Heere let them lye,
Till Famine and the Ague eate them vp:
Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours,
We might haue met them darefull, beard to beard,
And beate them backward home. What is that noyse?

A Cry within of Women.
Sey.
It is the cry of women, my good Lord.

Macb.
I haue almost forgot the taste of Feares:
The time ha's beene, my sences would haue cool'd
To heare a Night-shrieke, and my Fell of haire
Would at a dismall Treatise rowze, and stirre
As life were in't. I haue suptfull with horrors,
Direnesse familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry?

Sey.
The Queene (my Lord) is dead.

Macb.
She should haue dy'de heereafter;
There would haue beene a time for such a word:
To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow,
Creepes in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last Syllable of Recorded time:
And all our yesterdayes, haue lighted Fooles
The way to dusty death. Out, out, breefe Candle,
Life's but a walking Shadow, a poore Player,
That struts and frets his houre vpon the Stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a Tale
Told by an Ideot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.
Enter a Messenger.
Thou com'st to vse thy Tongue: thy Story quickly.

Mes.
Gracious my Lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to doo't.

Macb.
Well, say sir.

Mes.
As I did stand my watch vpon the Hill
I look'd toward Byrnane, and anon me thought
The Wood began to moue.

Macb.
Lyar, and Slaue.

Mes.
Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
Within this three Mile may you see it comming.
I say, a mouing Groue.

Macb.
If thou speak'st fhlse,
Vpon the next Tree shall thou hang aliue
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 th'Equiuocation of the Fiend,
That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnane Wood
Do come to Dunsinane, and now a Wood
Comes toward Dunsinane, Arme, Arme, and out,
If this which he auouches, do's appeare,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.
I'ginne to be a-weary of the Sun,
And wish th'estate o'th' world were now vndon.
Ring the Alarum Bell, blow Winde, come wracke,
At least wee'l dye with Harnesse on our backe.

Exeunt

Scena Sexta.

Drumme and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, and their Army, with Boughes.
Mal.
Now neere enough:
Your leauy Skreenes throw downe,
And shew like those you are: You (worthy Vnkle)
Shall with my Cosin your right Noble Sonne
Leade our first Battell. Worthy Macduffe, and wee
Shall take vpon's what else remaines to do,
According to our order.

Sey.
Fare you well:
Do we but finde the Tyrants power to night,
Let vs be beaten, if we cannot fight.

Macd.
Make all our Trumpets speak, giue thē all breath
Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death.

Exeunt
Alarums continued.

Scena Septima.

Enter Macbeth.
Macb.
They haue tied me to a stake, I cannot flye,
But Beare-like I must fight the course. What's he
That was not borne of Woman? Such a one
Am I to feare, or none.

Enter young Seyward.
Y. Sey.
What is thy name?

Macb.
Thou'lt be affraid to heare it.

Y. Sey.
No: though thou call'st thy selfe a hoter name
Then any is in hell.

Macb.
My name's Macbeth.

Y. Sey.
The diuell himselfe could not pronounce a Title
More hatefull to mine eare.

Macb.
No: nor more fearefull.

Y. Sey.
Thou lyest abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword
Ile proue the lye thou speak'st.

Fight, and young Seyward slaine.
Macb.
Thou was't borne of woman;
But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorne,
Brandish'd by man that's of a Woman borne.

Exit.
Alarums. Enter Macduffe.
Macd.
That way the noise is: Tyrant shew thy face,
If thou beest slaine, and with no stroake of mine,
My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me still:
I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose armes
Are hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth,
Or else my Sword with an vnbattered edge
I sheath againe vndeeded. There thou should'st be,
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seemes bruited. Let me finde him Fortune,
And more I begge not.

Exit. Alarums.
Enter Malcolme and Seyward.
Sey.
This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred:
The Tyrants people, on both sides do fight,
The Noble Thanes do brauely in the Warre,
The day almost it selfe professes yours,
And little is to do.

Malc.
We haue met with Foes
That strike beside vs.

Sey.
Enter Sir, the Castle.

Exeunt. Alarum
Enter Macbeth.
Macb.
Why should I play the Roman Foole, and dye
On mine owne sword? whiles I see liues, the gashes
Do better vpon them.

Enter Macduffe.
Macd.
Turne Hell-hound, turne.

Macb.
Of all men else I haue auoyded thee:
But get thee backe, my soule is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already.

Macd.
I haue no words,
My voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villaine
Then tearmes can giue thee out.

Fight: Alarum
Macb.
Thou loosest labour
As easie may'st thou the intrenchant Ayre
With thy keene Sword impresse, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Crests,
I beare a charmed Life, which must not yeeld
To one of woman borne.

Macd.
Dispaire thy Charme,
And let the Angell whom thou still hast seru'd
Tell thee, Macduffe was from his Mothers womb
Vntimely ript.

Macb.
Accursed be that tongue that tels mee so;
For it hath Cow'd my better part of man:
And be these Iugling Fiends no more beleeu'd,
That palter with vs in a double sence,
That keepe the word of promise to our eare,
And breake it to our hope. Ile not fight with thee.

Macd.
Then yeeld thee Coward,
And liue to be the shew, and gaze o'th' time.
Wee'l haue thee, as our rarer Monsters are
Painted vpon a pole, and vnder-writ,
Heere may you see the Tyrant.

Macb.
I will not yeeld
To kisse the ground before young Malcolmes feet,
And to be baited with the Rabbles curse.
Though Byrnane wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman borne,
Yet I will try the last. Before my body,
I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on Macduffe,
And damn'd be him, that first cries hold, enough.

Exeunt fighting. Alarums.
Enter Fighting, and Macbeth slaine.
Retreat and Flourish. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Malcolm, Seyward, Rosse, Thanes & Soldiers.
Mal.
I would the Friends we misse, were safe arriu'd.

Sey.
Some must go off: and yet by these I see,
So great a day as this is cheapely bought.

Mal.
Macduffe is missing, and your Noble Sonne.

Rosse
Your son my Lord, ha's paid a souldiers debt,
He onely liu'd but till he was a man,
The which no sooner had his Prowesse confirm'd
In the vnshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he dy'de.

Sey.
Then, he is dead?

Rosse.
I, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end.

Sey.
Had he his hurts before?

Rosse.
I, on the Front.

Sey.
Why then, Gods Soldier be he:
Had I as many Sonnes, as I haue haires,
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And so his Knell is knoll'd.

Mal.
Hee's worth more sorrow,
And that Ile spend for him.

Sey.
He's worth no more,
They say he parted well, and paid his score,
And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort.

Enter Macduffe, with Macbeths head.
Macd.
Haile King, for so thou art.
Behold where stands
Th'Vsurpers cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compast with thy Kingdomes Pearle,
That speake my salutation in their minds:
Whose voyces I desire alowd with mine.
Haile King of Scotland.

All.
Haile King of Scotland.

Flourish.
Mal.
We shall not spend a large expence of time,
Before we reckon with your seuerall loues,
And make vs euen with you. My Thanes and Kinsmen
Henceforth be Earles, the first that euer Scotland
In such an Honor 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 watchfull Tyranny,
Producing forth the cruell Ministers
Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend-like Queene;
Who (as 'tis thought) by selfe and violent hands,
Tooke off her life. This, and what needfull else
That call's vpon vs, by the Grace of Grace,
We will performe in measure, time, and place:
So thankes to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we inuite, to see vs Crown'd at Scone.

Flourish. Exeunt Omnes.