University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

LADY.
Where may I shun this omnipresent horror
That scares my every sense, and fills my soul.
My shadow turns the monitor of guilt,
And, pointing with its unsubstantial hand,
Seems the precursor of avenging justice;
While the shrill ring of arms, distributing
To all the servants, sounds as awfully
As the deep-tolling of a passing bell.

SCENE II.

Lady and Seaton.
LADY.
What now, good Seaton; what new ill hath chanc'd?

SEATON.
The wood of Birnam has begun to move.

LADY.
What says the king?

SEATON.
He was disturb with ire,
That men should say a thing so wry to nature;
Anon his choler fell, and he appear'd
Like some prime merchant, who receives the news
Of all his fortune perish'd in the waves.

LADY.
Alas, alas,—go, bid my maids attend.
The fiery fever thrills through all my frame,
And darts delirium to my tingling head.

SCENE III.

Macbeth and Lady.
MACBETH.
The wood of Birnam comes to Dunsinane!

LADY.
Art thou Macbeth, and wear'st these looks of fear,
E'en while the men of Malcom, from thine eye,
Hide their pale faces with the forest boughs?
For such must be this daunting miracle.

MACBETH.
But they that did forewarn me of the sign,
Bade me to dread no danger till it came.
Behold it doth arrive.

LADY.
They warn'd thee well:
But the prediction has been read amiss.
We should have stood expecting fortune's change,
And been so ripe in all the means of war,
That Birnam forest, moving from its site,
Should e'en have found our full matur'd array,
Prepared for chances supernatural.
But my enfeebled limbs foregoe their office,
And to my couch I must again return.
Go to thy men, and with thy wonted fire,
Inflame their bosoms to th'accustom'd zeal.

SCENE IV.

MACBETH.
Why should I, thus, be still the toy of fortune,
While my own hand contains the means of riddance?
This is the key that may unlock the door,
And show me all the secret things of fate.
But wherefore is it, that I dread its use?
I, who so oft in pride of youthful blood,
Have all the tumults of the battle dared,
As 'twere, to force, outrageously, to enter
The undiscover'd labyrinth of death,
Though then I knew not this pursuing fear;
Nor had incited, thus to hunt me down,
The hungry vengeance of vindictive men.
Oh! while so chased, am I afraid to fly,
Since tarrying here, ensures a certain woe;
And using this, will bear me safe away.
To be imprison'd in this mortal cell,
And know the boundless liberty without!
To be so manacled, and yet to shrink
From the short tingle of the setting free!
Oh! to what cowardice the dross of flesh
Degrades the noble element of man.
Seaton, without; who waits, Seaton, I say?

SCENE V.

Macbeth and Seaton.
MACBETH.
What mean these acclamations from our men?

SEATON.
The enemy have thrown the branches down,
And round the castle, show us all their war;
Light-kindled spears and crests of waving plumes,
Which your bold lieges on the walls and towers,
Welcome with gay defiance.

MACBETH.
Hearts of gold!
Give them my thanks. In their courageous note,
I heard the voice of other times resound.—
I'll wear to-day, the armour I had on,
When, for my carve at the Dane's carnage feast,
I gain'd new honour from the good king Duncan.
Ha! will my every thought still turn on him,
And each slight motion of long unfelt joy,
But stir the wounds of guilty agony!

SCENE VI.

Baudron, Lady, and Macbeth.
BAUDRON.
O spare me, spare, dreadful majestic dame;
Tremendous lady, spare my feeble life.

MACBETH.
Hold, dearest, hold: what would'st thou with this dagger?

BAUDRON.
Thou shalt in sulphur burn for sorcery.
He holds cabals and traffickings accurst,
With the malignants that make murk the mind;
And doth suborn them to beset my couch,
With bosoms smear'd, and visages all grim;
Like dead men rising from their mid-night beds.

MACBETH.
Hast thou then, Baudron, pow'r with imps of ill?

BAUDRON.
My lord, my gracious lord; her highness' brain
Yields to the fervour of the fever's rage.

LADY.
I feel his devilish conjurations work,
Constraining me by terrible conceits,
To crawl dishevel'd, like the eastern king,
Whose locks were matted by the rain of heav'n.

MACBETH.
If thou hast cunning to concoct the thoughts
To these persuasions, old man, stay not here;
Hie thee to Malcom's camp, and there employ
Thy subtile metaphysics to dismay.

LADY.
Look there, Macbeth, where his black art hath brought
That pale, thin, meek, old, hoary king asleep,
So like my father when I saw him die.
Anon, anon, the spell doth work apace,
And the botch'd bosom shows all foul with blood.
Whose are these gory sacrilegious hands?
One holds a dagger, and the other gropes,
As 'twere, to find the corpse.—They are my own!

SCENE VII.

Baudron and Macbeth.
BAUDRON.
It is, my liege, the fume of the disease,
Clouding like vapour her serene of mind:
The sun of reason fails amidst the gloom.

MACBETH.
She was not wont to see these spectacles;
And since thou hast been here, free friend with us,
We have, such air-embodied horrors seen
Rising before us, in the cheerful wake,
Like incantations of the wizard Sleep,
That day has grown as hideous as the night;
And baleful Memory, witching nurse of Fancy,
Mingling the caldron of perturbed care,
Gives aspectable form to dreadest things.
Again, I say, if thou hast wrought this change,
Depart our threshold. But if thou art man,
Stay; for the genius of thy antique lore,
Is touch'd with mystery, so finely wild,
That I could listen, had I leisure ease,
Far rather to thy high hypothesis,
Than to the cadence of the minstrel's song.

SCENE VIII.

Seaton, Macbeth, and Baudron.
SEATON.
My lord, the enemy move to the walls,
Th'impetuous thane of Fyfe before the van,
Waves his claymore, and urges to the gate.
I saw him turn impatient as he came,
And drag with fierceness, which brook'd no delay,
The batt'ring engines, lab'ring up the steep.

MACBETH.
Let them come on, and all of woman born.
My soul is kindling, and from every tower,
We will such hurl of furious vengeance hail,
In barbed shafts and missiles, wing'd with flame,
That they shall rue their trait'rous appetite,
To break the fold where majesty lies pent.

SCENE IX.

BAUDRON.
Poor miscompounded, miscommissioned man,
Enrich'd with valour and the heart's best ore,
But so mixt up with fellest cruelty,
As still to have affinity for ill.
While I rejoice that, thus, the ruthless king,
Whose scepter, grimly clutch'd, has made the land
Quake to its utmost ocean-beaten cape,
Already feels the retribution close,
My bosom yearns afflicted for the man;
As when a father mourns the dismal end
Of his o'er-fondled, long-unchidden son.
Ill-starr'd Macbeth! had destiny withheld
Thy high enthusiasm from the sway
Of thy arch-human wife, who, sternly proud,
Amidst the storms of fortune and disease,
Stands like a rock, around whose clouded head,
Gleam fires from heav'n, while billows dash the base;
Perchance, O hapless, to thy trophied name,
The long processions of posterity
Might have, admiring, look'd and pass'd improv'd.
Hark! 'tis the engines thund'ring at the gates.

SCENE X.

Lady and Baudron.
LADY.
I will not, damsels, have the doctor more.
Ha! coreless stump of age, how is't that thou
Appear'st unshaken, while the royal trees
Feel the rude lopping of the tempest's force?
Again, again; the house itself grows craz'd,
And by this dreadful batt'ring trembles all.
Ye jerking vaults have ye turn'd traitors too?
Down, down at once, incairn me while a queen,
That I may 'scape the ignominious pelt
Of rabble execration. 'Tis ours that shout!

SCENE XI.

Seaton, Lady, and Baudron.
SEATON.
The foe retires, for havoc, eagle-fang'd,
Pounces resistless where the king appears,
And none withstand the rage. Wounds to our men,
Become, as 'twere, new energies to life.
Their valour burns with an intenser heat,
By the quick stirring of their fomen's steel.
The king shall yet be king.

LADY.
—Did'st thou think else?
What! had'st thou con'd in previous cogitation,
The phrase and suppliancy meet to earn
The base prolongment of thy cringing life?

SEATON.
I have, dread madam, ever faithful prov'd;
Nor aught, that duteous service might desire,
Has been neglected in my willing tasks.

LADY.
Rise from thy knees.—Alas! my troubled brain,
With vague and fearful rumours all perplext,
Betrays me often to forget myself.

SCENE XII.

Lady and Baudron.
LADY.
Can'st thou, old man, to changeful life inured,
Teach me the art to keep in even flow,
The method of my thoughts. I feel myself,
Like one forced far by currents from the shore,
In some small bark, that the great billows toss,
On the white curling of their mighty mains;—
No will of mine availing.

BAUDRON.
Happy they,
Who as they toil along the flat low sands,
To pick their pittance from the tide's refuse,
Can see, unwishing to partake the voyage,
The cheer'd departure of the gaudy ships,
Whose swelling sails advance to meet the sun.

LADY.
Thy pale morality would better suit
The meek dejection of a pining fair,
That mourns her high-born lover's faithlessness,
Than the stern grief of a devoted queen.
I pray thee, Baudron, vex my heart no more.
My fancies thicken as the tumults rise,
And whirl in frantic eddies to despair.

SCENE XIII.

Lady, Macbeth, and Baudron.
LADY.
How now, Macbeth, what dost thou from thy post?
Forth to the men; nor in thy fury slack,
'Till thou hast swept with iron besoming,
The impeded course of our regality.

MACBETH.
My fate is verified. No man of them
Withstands the flash and tempest of my sword.
Back from the gates they all recoiling roll,
A bloody rubbish: wounded, dead and dying,
Lie heap'd a hideous pile.

LADY.
My valiant king!
Back to the revels of grim Mars again,
And gorge thy valour.

MACBETH.
Ah! my dearest love,
I have, alas, encountered there a foe,
More terrible than all of woman born;
And ere again I breast the battles surge,
I would hold parley with the old man here.

LADY.
Fye, fye, Macbeth, thou dalliest with our fate.

MACBETH.
I oft in childhood roamed the haunted glens,
And heard the rustle of the bard-sung ghosts;
In bolder youth, all lonely, I have scaled
The windy summits of our wildest hills,
And heard the whisp'ring of contriving sprites:
But, nor in childhood, nor in pensive youth,
Nor when the sisters on the blasted heath,
With supernatural prediction hail'd;
Nor all the spectral visions I have seen,
By night, or noon, or in the witches' cave,
Ere struck such chill into my daunted heart,
As the creations of my guilt to-day.

LADY.
By what new goblin hast thou been amaz'd?

MACBETH.
Each wound I gave, seem'd Duncan's gash renew'd;
Each groan I heard, sounded like his expire.
Whene'er I turn'd, to praise my valiant men,
In their brave exhibition, I discern'd
Th'accusing semblance of the murder'd Banquo,
As when he fought with me against the Dane.
All the encrimson'd secrets of my life,
Glar'd in my sight; and though to madness driv'n,
I rush'd to meet destruction every where,
The bolts flew harmless o'er my charmed head,
And pointed spears fell blunted from my mail.
Oh! that which promis'd me a safe long life,
Inflicts more anguish than a thousand deaths.

LADY.
There is no remedy for us, Macbeth.

MACBETH.
Help, help; she dies!—fly, help—the doctor; fly.

LADY.
He has no lenitives for my disease;
Nostrum nor simple can remove my pain.

SCENE XIV.

Seaton, Macbeth, and Lady.
SEATON.
My lord! my lord! Macduff has storm'd the gate!
The men cry for you; and the rushing foes
Fill all the court.

MACBETH.
Well, well, go save thyself.

LADY.
Art thou a king, Macbeth?—Stay not for me;
I do begin to freshen and revive.
Away my thane, and with the joyous news
Of thy success recruit me.—Thane, away.

SCENE XV.

Lady and Baudron.
LADY.
What see'st thou, damsel, to look at me so?
Give me some drink, some strong restorative.
A clay-cold chill is creeping to my heart—
Where the parch'd devil of the fever sits,
And craves the cooling freshness. Give, O give.—
But all the welling fountains of the hills,
Cannot allay the deadly thirst that's here.

BAUDRON.
This wat'ry bev'rage slightly tinged with wine—

LADY.
Ha! wretch—'tis blood!—

BAUDRON.
Alas! they all have fled,
In panic horror at the howl she gave,
And left her, dreadful doom! to die alone.—
Hither ye pale appall'd. This mighty dame,
Is now as harmless as the sludge, that's cast
From the brief trenchment of a baby's grave.

SCENE XVI.

Macbeth, Baudron, Seaton &c.
MACBETH.
Come, stand apart, and let me look on her.
Tears ill would suit the stern magnificence
That should attend thy bier: such drops as these
Red trickling from my sword, should fall for thee.
For thou wast made of such courageous stuff,
That the heroic when compar'd with thine,
Prov'd minor metal form'd for meaner use.
Yes, noble lady, thou hast died a queen;
Invidious Fortune would have bent thee down,
But thy undaunted spirit aw'd the fiend,
And with triumphant royalty has left
Its frail corporeal mantle as it rose,
To rouse me to great things. Baudron thou said'st,
That the same sun that saw the queen a corse,
Would ne'er on me bestow a setting beam.
Lo! there she lies!—And hark, the storm without
Thunders prelusive to the dread finale.
Fate do thy worst, I dare thee to the beard;
Nor life, nor crown, nor victory, nor fame,
Inspire my great intent. For death I fight;
And will the black tremendous trophy gain,
Ere this last consummating day be done.
Pull down the royal standard from the tower,
And in its stead unfurl the funeral pall;
The ensign of my cause. To all adieu.
Dull guestless mansion of my love farewell;
I go to meet her, though it be in Hell!