First Witch. I have annotated,as well,a limited number of such other mat-ters,sometimes of interpretation,sometimes of general or histor-ical relevance, as have seemed to me seriously worthy of inclu-. Thomas Marc Parrott. Banquo reveals that he has dreamt of the three weird.
Teacher Editions with classroom activities for all titles we cover. Lady Macbeth quotes. Look out for the most famous line in 'Macbeth': "Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble," said by the three witches. Banquo stared at the women. Lady Macbeth calls him back to the table to toast the guests; he does so, but as he attempts to take. About this text. Macbeth Act 1 Scene 3 "Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
The presence of supernatural influences, another theme of "Macbeth," is another factor that affects the main character's choices. ChaCha Answer: In act one scene 2. Pdf Free Download: macbeth text Line Numbers: In the text of Macbeth, the line numbers will correspond very well with the line numbers in modern double-column editions of Shakespeare, such as The Riverside. Most likely you have knowledge that, people have see numerous time for This app is compatible with movies, TV, opera, novels, comic books and other media.
Act 1, Scene 2: A camp near Forres. Macbeth is complex, and his guilt for his many bloody crimes is a central theme of the play. Jump to line. Though I am by no means an expert in drama, and in fact my main appreciation of Shakespeare is in Hamlet for madness and Othello for being an outsider with an ability to seduce. There to meet with Macbeth.
First staged in , Macbeth's three witches and other dark imagery have entered our collective imagination. Read Macbeth here, with side-by-side No Fear translations into modern English. The Complete Annotated Macbeth. Banquo tells Macbeth he si going horseriding with Fleance. It dramatises the damaging physical and psychological effects of political ambition on those who seek power for its own sake.
User: bx. PDF downloads of all LitCharts literature guides, and of every new one we publish. Macbeth, a Thane of Scotland. Macbeth Full Play With Line Numbers how to quote shakespeare dr mark womack, what are some quotes in shakespeare s macbeth that show, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow wikipedia, paul douglas imdb, theater reviews the new york times breaking news, macbeth characters gradesaver, macbeth act 1 scene 5 the milk of human kindness, rakuten earn super grandson, Macbeth, from the line of inheritance.
Macbeth - TXT Download. How to write a macbeth essay. Macbeth full play with line numbers If there are no page numbers on the electronic source, use only the author name or the first main word of the title. There are occasions where you may find a source that quotes another source that you want to use in your paper.
File Type PDF Macbeth Full Play With Lines Numbers volatility, mae jemison dra, winnipeg transit public ralation exam, call for the dead george smiley series book 1, the winners curse paradoxes and anomalies of economic life, cxc english a past papers and answers, sacred woman a guide to healing the Line-by-line modern translations of every Shakespeare play and poem.
His confidence fades when the witches show him a line of kings who all resemble Banquo, suggesting that Banquo's sons will indeed be kings. For other uses, see Macbeth disambiguation.
What soldiers, patch? Ages 0 and up. New York: American Book Co. Line numbers have been altered. That tears shall drown the wind. Fled to England! Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits: The flighty purpose never is o'ertook Unless the deed go with it; from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand.
And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done: The castle of Macduff I will surprise; Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line.
No boasting like a fool; This deed I'll do before this purpose cool. But no more sights! What had he done, to make him fly the land? You must have patience, madam. He had none: His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors. You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.
He loves us not; He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. All is the fear and nothing is the love; As little is the wisdom, where the flight So runs against all reason. My dearest coz, I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband, He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows The fits o' the season. I dare not speak much further; But cruel are the times, when we are traitors And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, But float upon a wild and violent sea Each way and move.
I take my leave of you: Shall not be long but I'll be here again: Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward To what they were before. My pretty cousin, Blessing upon you! Lady Macduff. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace and your discomfort: I take my leave at once.
Sirrah, your father's dead; And what will you do now? How will you live? As birds do, mother. What, with worms and flies? With what I get, I mean; and so do they. Poor bird! Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is not dead, for all your saying. Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father? Nay, how will you do for a husband? Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.
Then you'll buy 'em to sell again. Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith, With wit enough for thee.
Was my father a traitor, mother? Ay, that he was. What is a traitor? Why, one that swears and lies. And be all traitors that do so? Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged. And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? Every one. Who must hang them? Why, the honest men. Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them.
Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father? If he were dead, you'ld weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father. Poor prattler, how thou talk'st! Bless you, fair dame!
I am not to you known, Though in your state of honour I am perfect. To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage; To do worse to you were fell cruelty, Which is too nigh your person.
Heaven preserve you! I dare abide no longer. Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. But I remember now I am in this earthly world; where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas, Do I put up that womanly defence, To say I have done no harm? Where is your husband? I hope, in no place so unsanctified Where such as thou mayst find him. He's a traitor. Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain! What, you egg! He has kill'd me, mother: Run away, I pray you!
Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty. Let us rather Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new morn New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out Like syllable of dolour.
What you have spoke, it may be so perchance. This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest: you have loved him well. He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but something You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb To appease an angry god. I am not treacherous. But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge.
But I shall crave your pardon; That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose: Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell; Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so.
I have lost my hopes. Perchance even there where I did find my doubts. Why in that rawness left you wife and child, Those precious motives, those strong knots of love, Without leave-taking? I pray you, Let not my jealousies be your dishonours, But mine own safeties.
You may be rightly just, Whatever I shall think. Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny! Fare thee well, lord: I would not be the villain that thou think'st For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp, And the rich East to boot.
Be not offended: I speak not as in absolute fear of you. I think our country sinks beneath the yoke; It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds: I think withal There would be hands uplifted in my right; And here from gracious England have I offer Of goodly thousands: but, for all this, When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head, Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country Shall have more vices than it had before, More suffer and more sundry ways than ever, By him that shall succeed.
What should he be? It is myself I mean: in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compared With my confineless harms.
Not in the legions Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd In evils to top Macbeth. I grant him bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name: but there's no bottom, none, In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters, Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up The cistern of my lust, and my desire All continent impediments would o'erbear That did oppose my will: better Macbeth Than such an one to reign.
Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny; it hath been The untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings. But fear not yet To take upon you what is yours: you may Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty, And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink. We have willing dames enough: there cannot be That vulture in you, to devour so many As will to greatness dedicate themselves, Finding it so inclined. With this there grows In my most ill-composed affection such A stanchless avarice that, were I king, I should cut off the nobles for their lands, Desire his jewels and this other's house: And my more-having would be as a sauce To make me hunger more; that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, Destroying them for wealth.
This avarice Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear; Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will. Of your mere own: all these are portable, With other graces weigh'd. But I have none: the king-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, I have no relish of them, but abound In the division of each several crime, Acting it many ways.
Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. O Scotland, Scotland! If such a one be fit to govern, speak: I am as I have spoken. Fit to govern! O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accursed, And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee, Oftener upon her knees than on her feet, Died every day she lived.
Fare thee well! These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast, Thy hope ends here! Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth By many of these trains hath sought to win me Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me From over-credulous haste: but God above Deal between thee and me! I am yet Unknown to woman, never was forsworn, Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, At no time broke my faith, would not betray The devil to his fellow and delight No less in truth than life: my first false speaking Was this upon myself: what I am truly, Is thine and my poor country's to command: Whither indeed, before thy here-approach, Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men, Already at a point, was setting forth.
Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent? Such welcome and unwelcome things at once 'Tis hard to reconcile. Well; more anon. Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls That stay his cure: their malady convinces The great assay of art; but at his touch— Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand— They presently amend. I thank you, doctor. What's the disease he means? How he solicits heaven, Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people, All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of surgery, he cures, Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken, To the succeeding royalty he leaves The healing benediction.
With this strange virtue, He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy, And sundry blessings hang about his throne, That speak him full of grace. See, who comes here? My countryman; but yet I know him not. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. I know him now. Good God, betimes remove The means that makes us strangers!
Sir, amen. Stands Scotland where it did? Alas, poor country! Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying or ere they sicken.
O, relation Too nice, and yet too true! What's the newest grief? That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker: Each minute teems a new one. How does my wife? Why, well. And all my children? Well too. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em. But not a niggard of your speech: how goes't? When I came hither to transport the tidings, Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour Of many worthy fellows that were out; Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot: Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, make our women fight, To doff their dire distresses.
Be't their comfort We are coming thither: gracious England hath Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men; An older and a better soldier none That Christendom gives out. Would I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words That would be howl'd out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch them.
What concern they? No mind that's honest But in it shares some woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone. If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard.
I guess at it. Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner, Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, To add the death of you. Merciful heaven! What, man! My children too? Wife, children, servants, all That could be found. And I must be from thence! My wife kill'd too? I have said. Be comforted: Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief.
He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! Dispute it like a man. I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! Heaven rest them now!
Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens, Cut short all intermission; front to front Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too!
This tune goes manly. Receive what cheer you may: The night is long that never finds the day. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report.
When was it she last walked? Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.
A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching! In this slumbery agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say? That, sir, which I will not report after her.
You may to me: and 'tis most meet you should. Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech. This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. How came she by that light? Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually; 'tis her command. You see, her eyes are open. Ay, but their sense is shut.
What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands: I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. Yet here's a spot. Out, damned spot! What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Do you mark that? The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now? Go to, go to; you have known what you should not. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: heaven knows what she has known.
Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh! What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged. I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body.
Well, well, well,— Gentlewoman. Pray God it be, sir. This disease is beyond my practise: yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale. Even so? To bed, to bed! What's done cannot be undone. Will she go now to bed? Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets: More needs she the divine than the physician.
God, God forgive us all! Look after her; Remove from her the means of all annoyance, And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night: My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight. I think, but dare not speak. Good night, good doctor. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, His uncle Siward and the good Macduff: Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm Excite the mortified man.
Near Birnam wood Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother? For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son, And many unrough youths that even now Protest their first of manhood. What does the tyrant? Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies: Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule.
Now does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands; Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love: now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe Upon a dwarfish thief. Who then shall blame His pester'd senses to recoil and start, When all that is within him does condemn Itself for being there? Well, march we on, To give obedience where 'tis truly owed: Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal, And with him pour we in our country's purge Each drop of us.
Or so much as it needs, To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all: Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, I cannot taint with fear.
What's the boy Malcolm? Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus: 'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman Shall e'er have power upon thee.
Where got'st thou that goose look? There is ten thousand— Macbeth. Geese, villain! Soldiers, sir. Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver'd boy.
What soldiers, patch? Death of thy soul! What soldiers, whey-face? The English force, so please you. Take thy face hence. I have lived long enough: my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
What is your gracious pleasure? What news more? All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported. I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd. Give me my armour. I'll put it on. Send out more horses; skirr the country round; Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour. How does your patient, doctor? Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick coming fancies, That keep her from her rest.
Cure her of that. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart? Therein the patient Must minister to himself. Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it. Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff. Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.
If thou couldst, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud again. Hear'st thou of them? Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Makes us hear something. Bring it after me.
Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand That chambers will be safe. We doubt it nothing. What wood is this before us? The wood of Birnam. Let every soldier hew him down a bough And bear't before him: thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host and make discovery Err in report of us.
It shall be done. We learn no other but the confident tyrant Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure Our setting down before 't. Let our just censures Attend the true event, and put we on Industrious soldiership.
The time approaches That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have and what we owe. Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, But certain issue strokes must arbitrate: Towards which advance the war.
Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie Till famine and the ague eat them up: Were they not forced with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home.
It is the cry of women, my good lord. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts Cannot once start me.
The queen, my lord, is dead. She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word. Out, out, brief candle! Gracious my lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do it.
Well, say, sir. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The wood began to move. Liar and slave! Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three mile may you see it coming; I say, a moving grove. If thou speak'st false, Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much.
I pull in resolution, and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out! If this which he avouches does appear, There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
I gin to be aweary of the sun, And wish the estate o' the world were now undone. Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! At least we'll die with harness on our back. Now near enough: your leafy screens throw down. And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle, Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son, Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we Shall take upon 's what else remains to do, According to our order.
Fare you well. Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night, Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course.
What's he That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none. What is thy name? Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. Young Siward. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name Than any is in hell. My name's Macbeth. The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear. No, nor more fearful. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.
Thou wast born of woman But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. That way the noise is.
Tyrant, show thy face! If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still. I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited.
Let me find him, fortune! And more I beg not. This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd: The tyrant's people on both sides do fight; The noble thanes do bravely in the war; The day almost itself professes yours, And little is to do.
We have met with foes That strike beside us. Enter, sir, the castle. Alarums] previous scene Act V, Scene 8. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? Turn, hell-hound, turn! Of all men else I have avoided thee: But get thee back; my soul is too much charged With blood of thine already. I have no words: My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out!
Thou losest labour: As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed: Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life, which must not yield, To one of woman born. Despair thy charm; And let the angel whom thou still hast served Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripp'd.
Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow'd my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believed, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee. Then yield thee, coward, And live to be the show and gaze o' the time: We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted on a pole, and underwrit, 'Here may you see the tyrant.
I will not yield, To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, And to be baited with the rabble's curse. Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou opposed, being of no woman born, Yet I will try the last.
Before my body I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough! Alarums] [Retreat. I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. Some must go off: and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
Macduff is missing, and your noble son. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt: He only lived but till he was a man; The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd In the unshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he died. Then he is dead? Third Witch And I another. Look what I have. Second Witch Show me, show me. 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. Live you? 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. First Witch All hail, Macbeth! Second Witch All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!
Third Witch All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter! My noble partner You greet with present grace and great prediction Of noble having and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not. If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear Your favours nor your hate.
First Witch Hail! Second Witch Hail! Third Witch Hail! First Witch Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. Second Witch Not so happy, yet much happier.
First Witch Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence? Speak, I charge you. Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner? ROSS And, for an earnest of a greater honour, He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor: In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
For it is thine. The greatest is behind. Cousins, a word, I pray you. Aside 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?
Let us toward the king. Come, friends. 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 deserved, That the proportion both of thanks and payment Might have been mine!
Noble Banquo, That hast no less deserved, nor must be known No less to have done so, let me enfold thee And hold thee to my heart. Sons, kinsmen, thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know We will establish our estate upon Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must Not unaccompanied invest him only, But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine On all deservers.
From hence to Inverness, And bind us further to you. 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. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell. Enter a Messenger What is your tidings? Messenger The king comes here to-night. Messenger 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.
Exit Messenger 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! 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. Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters.
Hautboys and torches. The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose To be his purveyor: but he rides well; And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, We are your guest to-night. By your leave, hostess. Enter a Sewer, and divers Servants with dishes and service, and pass over the stage.
And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? 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. Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
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! This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up In measureless content.
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? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. 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. The attempt and not the deed Confounds us. Didst thou not hear a noise? Did not you speak? 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. What hands are here? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas in incarnadine, Making the green one red. Knocking within I hear a knocking At the south entry: retire we to our chamber; A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it, then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended. Knocking within Hark! Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, And show us to be watchers. Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts.
Knocking within Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst! Knocking within. If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning the key. Knocking within Knock, knock, knock! Knocking within Knock, knock! Knocking within Knock, knock; never at quiet! What are you? But this place is too cold for hell. Knocking within Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.
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.
This is the door. Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee! Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason! Banquo and Donalbain! As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites, To countenance this horror! Ring the bell.
What, in our house? Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself, And say it is not so. No man: The expedition my violent love Outrun the pauser, reason. Fears and scruples shake us: In the great hand of God I stand; and thence Against the undivulged pretence I fight Of treasonous malice. ALL So all. ALL Well contented. Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain. Here comes the good Macduff. ROSS Alas, the day! What good could they pretend?
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! ROSS Farewell, father. 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! Sennet sounded. Hie you to horse: adieu, Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? Exit Attendant To be thus is nothing; But to be safely thus. Rather than so, come fate into the list. And champion me to the utterance! 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. Do you find Your patience so predominant in your nature That you can let this go? 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 valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The housekeeper, the hunter, every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive Particular addition.
Second Murderer I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world. Both Murderers True, my lord. Second Murderer We shall, my lord, Perform what you command us.
Both Murderers We are resolved, my lord. Exeunt Murderers It is concluded. Servant Ay, madam, but returns again to-night. Servant Madam, I will. 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.
Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale! So, prithee, go with me.
Enter three Murderers First Murderer But who did bid thee join with us? Third Murderer Macbeth. Second Murderer He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers Our offices and what we have to do To the direction just. First Murderer Then stand with us. The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day: Now spurs the lated traveller apace To gain the timely inn; and near approaches The subject of our watch.
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