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Ban. 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.

Senet sounded. Enter MACBETH, as King; Lady
MACBETH, as Queen; LENOx, ROSSE, Lords,
Ladies, and Attendants.

Macb. Here's our chief guest.
Lady M.

If he had been forgotten,
it had been as a gap in our great feast,
And all-things unbecoming.
Macb. 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 tie
For ever knit.

Macb. Ride you this afternoon?
Ban.

Ay, my good lord. Macb. 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.

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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;
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!

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Who's

Now to the door, and stay there till we call.
[Exit Attendant.

Was it not yesterday we spoke together?
1 Mur. It was, so please your highness.
Macb.

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 a notion craz'd,
Say, Thus did Banquo.

1 Mur.
You made it known to us.
Macb. 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 for ever?

1 Mur.

We are men, my liege. Macb. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men ; As hounds, and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels,

curs,

Shoughs, water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are cleped All by the name of dogs: the valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,

|

The house-keeper, 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,

And not in 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.

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

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Enter MACPeth.

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 remedy,
Should be without regard: what's done, is done.

Macb. 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 domestick, foreign levy, nothing,

Can touch him further!

Lady M. Come on;

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Ban. O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly; Thou may'st revenge. O slave!

[Dies. FLEANCE and Servant escape. 3 Mur. Who did strike out the light? 1 Mur.

Was't not the way?

3 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.A Room of State in the Palace. A Banquet prepared.

Enter MACBETH, Lady MACBETH, ROSSE, LENOX, Lords, and Attendants.

Mach. You know your own degrees, sit down: at first

And last, the hearty welcome.

Lords.
Thanks to your majesty.
Macb. 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 M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;

For

my heart speaks, they are welcome.

Enter first Murderer, to the door.

Macb. See, they encounter thee with their hearts'

thanks:

Both sides are even: Here I'll sit i'the midst :
Be large in mirth; anon, we'll drink a measure
The table round. There's blood upon thy face.
Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then.
Mach. 'Tis better thee without, than he within.
Is he despatch'd?

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

him.

Macb. Thou art the best o'the cut throats: Yet

he's good,

That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it, Thou art the nonpareil.

Mur.

Fleance is 'scap'd.

Most royal sir,

Macb. Then comes my fit again: I had else been

perfect;

Whole as the marble, founded as the rock:

1 Mur.

Then stand with us.

As broad, and general, as the casing air:

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And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss ;
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
And all to all.
Lords.

Our duties, and the pledge. Macb. 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 M.
But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.
Macb. What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The arin'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!
[Ghost disappears.
Unreal mockery, hence! Why, so;-being gone,

Think of this, good peers,

And hath been from his youth: 'pray you, keep I am a man again. — Pray you, sit still.

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Augurs, and understood relations, have

By magot-pies,and choughs, and rooks, brought forth The secret'st man of blood. What is the night? Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which

is which.

Macb. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his

person,

At our great bidding?

Lady M.

Did you send to him, sir?
Mach. I hear it by the way; but I will send :
There's not a one of them, but in his house
I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow,
(Betimes I will,) unto 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 :

Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
Which must be acted, ere they may be scann'd.
Lady M. You lack the season of all natures,
sleep.

Macb. 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.

[Exeuni.

SCENE V.. The Heath. Thunder.
Enter HECATE, meeting the three Witches.

1 Witch. Why, how now, Hecate? you look
angerly.

Hec. Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
Saucy, and over-bold? How did you dare
To trade and traffick 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 show the glory of our art?
And, which is worse, all you have done,
Hath been but for a wayward son,
Spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do,
Loves for his own ends, not for you.
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-fatal end.

Great business must be wrought ere noon:
Upon the corner of the moon

There hangs a vaporous drop profound;
I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
And that, distill'd by magick slights,
Shall raise such artificial sprights,
As, by the strength of their illusion,
Shall draw him on to his confusion:
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear:
And you all know, security

Is mortal's chiefest enemy.

SONG. [Within.] Come away, come away, 42.

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thoughts,

Which can interpret further: only, I say,
Things have been strangely borne: The gracious
Duncan

Was pitied of Macbeth: - marry, he was dead :-
And the right-valiant Banquo walked too late;
Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleance kill'd
For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late.
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous
It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain,
To kill their gracious father? damned fact!
How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight,
In pious rage, the two delinquents tear,
That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep:
Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too;
For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive,
To hear the men deny it. So that, I say,
He has borne all things well: and I do think,
That, had he Duncan's son under his key,

(As, an't please heaven, he shall not,) they should

find

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Lord.

The son of Duncan,
From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
Lives in the English court; and is receiv'd
Of the most pious Edward with such grace,
That the malevolence of fortune nothing
Takes from his high respect: Thither Macduff
Is gone to pray the holy king, on his aid
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward:
That, by the help of these, (with Him above
To ratify the work,) we may again

Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights;
Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives;
Do faithful homage, and receive free honours,
All which we pine for now: And this report
Hath so exasperate the king, that he
Prepares for some attempt of war.

Len.
Sent he to Macduff?
Lord. He did and with an absolute, Sir, not I,
The cloudy messenger turns me his back,
And hums; as who should say, You'll rue the time
That clogs me with this answer.

Len. And that well might Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel Fly to the court of England, and unfold His message ere he come; that a swift blessing May soon return to this our suffering country Under a hand accurs'd!

Lord.

My prayers with him! [Ereant.

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