University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

A Park near Macbeth's Castle, at Inverness.
Enter Macduff and Lenox.
Len.
How goes the world, Sir, now?

Macd.
Why, see you not?

Len.
Is't known, who did this more than bloody deed?

Macd.
Those that Macbeth hath slain.

Len.
Alas, the day!
What good could they pretend?

Macd.
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.

Len.
'Gainst nature still:
Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up
Thine own life's means!—Then 'tis most like,
The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.

Macd.
He is already nam'd; and gone to Scone,
To be invested.

Len.
Where is Duncan's body?

Macd.
Carried to Colmes-kill,
The sacred store-house of his predecessors,
And guardian of their bones.

Len.
Will you to Scone?

Macd.
No, cousin, I'll to Fife.

Len.
Well, I will thither.

Macd.
Well, may you see things well done there;—adieu!—
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!

Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Room in the Palace at Fores.
Enter Banquo, and Fleance.

Thou hast it now: King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weird woman promis'd; and, I fear,
Thou playd'st 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.

Flourish. Enter Macbeth, as King: Lenox, Rosse Seyton, Lords and Attendants.
Mac.
Here's our chief guest; if he had been forgotten,
It had been as a gap in our great feast,
And all things unbecoming.
To-night we hold a solemn supper, Sir,
And I'll request your presence.

Ban.
Let your highness
Command upon me; to the which, my duties
Are with a most indissoluble tye
For ever knit.

Mac.
Ride you this afternoon?

Ban.
Ay, my good lord.

Mac.
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?

Ban.
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.

Mac.
Fail not our feast.

Ban.
My lord, I will not.

Mac.
We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd
In England, and in Ireland; not confessing
Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers
With strange inventions: 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?

Ban.
Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon us.

Mac.
I wish your horses swift and sure of foot;
And so I do commend you to their backs.
Farewell.—
Exeunt Banquo and Fleance.
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, heaven be with you.
Exeunt Lenox, Rosse, Lords, and Attendants.
Sirrah, a word: attend those men our pleasure?

Sey.
They are, my lord, without the palace-gate.

Mac.
Bring them before us.
Exit Seyton.
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 it be so,
For Banquo's issue have I 'fil'd my mind:
For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd,
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 Seyton with two Murderers.
Was it not yesterday we spoke together?

Mur.
It was, so please your highness.

Mac.
Well then, now
Exit Seyton.
Have you consider'd of my speeches?
Do you find
Your patience so predominant in your nature,
That you can let this go? Are you so gospel'd,
To pray for this good man, and for his issue,
Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave,
And beggar'd yours for ever?

2 Mur.
I am one,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
Have so incens'd, that I am reckless what
I do, to spite the world.

1 Mur.
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.

Mac.
Both of you
Know, Banquo was your enemy.

1 Mur.
True, my lord.

Mac.
So he is mine: and in such bloody distance,
That every minute of his being thursts
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 sundry weighty reasons.

2 Mur.
We shall, my lord,
Perform what you command us;—

1 Mur.
Though our lives—

Mac.
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.

1 Mur.
We are resolv'd, my lord.

Mac.
I'll call upon you strait; abide within.
Exeunt Murderers.
It is concluded:—Banquo, thy soul's flight,
If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.

Exit.
Enter Lady Macbeth, as Queen, and Seyton.
Lady.
Is Banquo gone from court?

Sey.
Ay, madam; but returns again to-night.

Lady.
Say to the king, I would attend his leisure
For a few words.

Sey.
Madam, I will.
Exit Seyton.

Lady.
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.
Enter Macbeth.
How now, my lord? why do you keep alone,
Of sorriest fancies your companions making?
Using those thoughts, which should indeed have dy'd
With them they think on? Things without all remedy
Should be without regard: what's done, is done.

Mac.
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 place, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie
In restless ecstacy.—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.
Come on;
Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;
Be bright and jovial 'mong your guests to-night.

Mac.
O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
Thou know'st, that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.

Lady.
But in them nature's copy's not eterne.

Mac.
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.
What's to be done?

Mac.
Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
'Till thou applaud the deed. Come, feeling night,
Skarf 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 drowze;
Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouze.
Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still;
Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by ill.

Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Fores Park.
Enter the two Murderers.
1 Mur.
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.

2 Mur.
Hark! I hear horses.
[Banquo within.]
Give us a light there, ho!

1 Mur.
Then it is he.

2 Mur.
His horses go about.

1 Mur.
Almost a mile: but he does usually,
So all men do, from hence to the palace gate
Make it their walk.

Enter Banquo, and Fleance with a torch.
2 Mur.
A light, a light!

1 Mur.
'Tis he.

Ban.
It will be rain to-night.

Exeunt Banquo, and Fleance.
1 Mur.
Let it come down.

They follow, and assault, Banquo.
Ban.
O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly;
Thou may'st revenge.—O slave!

[Dies.
Re-enter the two Murderers.
1 Mur.
There's but one down; the Son is fled.

2 Mur.
We have lost best half of our affair.

1 Mur.
Well, let's away, and say how much is done.

Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The Banquetting Room, in the Palace at Fores.
A Banquet prepared.
Musick.
Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Rosse, Lenox, Seyton, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants.
Mac.
You know your own degrees, sit down: at first,
And last, the hearty welcome.

Rosse.
Thanks to your majesty.

Mac.
Ourself will mingle with society
And play the humble host.
Our hostess keeps her state; but, in best time,
We will require her welcome.

Lady.
Pronounce it for me, Sir, to all our friends;
For my heart speaks, they are welcome.

Mac.
See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks:
Be large in mirth; anon, we'll drink a measure
The table round.—
Enter the Murderer.
There's blood upon thy face.

Mur.
'Tis Banquo's then.

Mac.
Is he dispatch'd?

Mur.
My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.

Mac.
Thou art the best o'the cut-throats: yet he's good,
That did the like for Fleance.

Mur.
Most royal Sir,
Fleance is 'scaped.

Mac
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?

Mur.
Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
The least a death to nature.

Mac.
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.

Exit Murderer.
Lady.
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.

Mac.
Sweet remembrancer!—
Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!

Len.
May it please your highness sit?

Mac.
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!

Rosse.
His absence, Sir,
Lays blame upon his promise.
Please it your highness
To grace us with your royal company?

Mac.
The table's full!

Len.
Here's a place reserv'd, Sir.

Mac.
Where?

Len.
Here, my lord. What is't that moves your highness?

Mac.
Which of you have done this?

Len.
What, my good lord?

Mac.
Thou can'st not say, I did it: never shake
Thy goary locks at me.

Rosse.
Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not well.

Lady.
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?

Mac.
Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
Which might appal the devil.

Lady.
O proper stuff!
This is the very painting of your fear:
This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. Oh, 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 it self!
Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
You look but on a stool.

Mac.
Pr'y thee, 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.

Lady.
What! quite unmann'd in folly?

Mac.
If I stand here, I saw him.

Lady.
Fie, for shame!

Mac.
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.

Lady.
My worthy lord,
Your noble friends do lack you.

Mac.
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.

Rosse.
Our duties, and the pledge.

Mac.
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!

Lady.
Think of this, good peers,
But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.

Mac.
What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger,
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble: or, be alive again,
And dare me to the desert with thy sword;
If trembling I inhibit thee, protest me
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!
Unreal mockery, hence! Why, so; being gone,
I am a man again.

Lady.
You have displac'd the mirth, broke the good meeting,
With most admir'd disorder.

Mac.
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.

Rosse.
What sights, my lord?

Lady.
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.

Len.
Good night, and better health
Attend his majesty!

Lady.
A kind good night to all!

Exeunt all the Lords, Ladies, and Attendants.
Mac.
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?

Lady.
Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

Mac.
How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person,
At our great bidding?

Lady.
Did you send to him, Sir?

Mac.
I hear it by the way; but I will send:
There's not 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
Stept in so far, that, should I wade no more.
Returning were as tedious as go o'er.

Lady.
You lack the reason of all nature's sleep.

Mac.
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.

Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The open Country.
Thunder.
Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecate.
1 Witch.
Why, how now, Hecate? you look angerly.

Hec.
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 shew the glory of our art?
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.

Hecate's Chair descends.
Musick and a Song.—Spirits in the Air.
Spir.
Hecate, Hecate, Hecate! O, come away!

Hec.
Hark! I am call'd;—my little spirit, see
Sits in a foggy cloud, and waits for me.

Spir.
Hecate, Hecate, Hecate! O, come away!

Hec.
I come, I come, with all the speed I may.
Where's Stadlin?

Spir.
Here.

Hec.
Where's Puckle?

Spir.
Here;
And Hoppo too, and Hellwaine too;
We want but you, we want but you.

Enter the Chorus of Witches.
Chor.
Come away, make up the count.

Hec.
With new fall'n dew
From church-yard yew
I will but 'noint, and then I mount.

Spir.
Why thou stay'st so long, I muse.

Hec.
Tell me, Spirit, tell, what news?

Spir.
All goes fair for our delight.

Hec.
Now I'm furnish'd for the flight.
Hecate places herself in her Chair.
Now I go, and now I fly,
Malkin, my sweet spirit, and I.
O, what a dainty pleasure's this,
To sail in the air,
While the moon shines fair,
To sing, to toy, to dance and kiss!
Over woods, high rocks, and mountains,
Over seas, our mistress' fountains,
Over steeples, towers, and turrets,
We fly by night 'mongst troops of spirits.

Chor.
We fly by night 'mongst troops of spirits.

Hecate ascends, and the Witches Exeunt.