Re: MACBETH by William Shakespeare
(Re-enter Lady Macbeth.)
What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? speak, speak!
O gentle lady,
'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
The repetition, in a woman's ear,
Would murder as it fell.
O Banquo, Banquo!
Our royal master's murder'd!
What, in our house?
Too cruel any where.--
Dear Duff, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself,
And say it is not so.
(Re-enter Macbeth and Lennox, with Ross.)
Had I but died an hour before this chance,
I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant
There's nothing serious in mortality:
All is but toys: renown and grace is dead;
The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
Is left this vault to brag of.
(Enter Malcolm and Donalbain.)
What is amiss?
You are, and do not know't:
The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.
Your royal father's murder'd.
O, by whom?
Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done't:
Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood;
So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found
Upon their pillows:
They star'd, and were distracted; no man's life
Was to be trusted with them.
O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
That I did kill them.
Wherefore did you so?
Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and furious,
Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:
The expedition of my violent love
Outrun the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan,
His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood;
And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature
For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage to make's love known?
Help me hence, ho!
Look to the lady.
Why do we hold our tongues,
That most may claim this argument for ours?
What should be spoken here, where our fate,
Hid in an auger hole, may rush, and seize us?
Our tears are not yet brew'd.
Nor our strong sorrow
Upon the foot of motion.
Look to the lady:--
(Lady Macbeth is carried out.)
And when we have our naked frailties hid,
That suffer in exposure, let us meet,
And question this most bloody piece of work
To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us:
In the great hand of God I stand; and thence,
Against the undivulg'd pretense I fight
Of treasonous malice.
And so do I.
Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i' the hall together.
(Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.)
What will you do? Let's not consort with them:
To show an unfelt sorrow is an office
Which the false man does easy. I'll to England.
To Ireland, I; our separated fortune
Shall keep us both the safer: where we are,
There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood,
The nearer bloody.
This murderous shaft that's shot
Hath not yet lighted; and our safest way
Is to avoid the aim. Therefore to horse;
And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,
But shift away: there's warrant in that theft
Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left.
SCENE II. The same. Without the Castle.
(Enter Ross and an old Man.)
Threescore and ten I can remember well:
Within the volume of which time I have seen
Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night
Hath trifled former knowings.
Ah, good father,
Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock 'tis day,
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp;
Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame,
That darkness does the face of earth entomb,
When living light should kiss it?
Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
A falcon, towering in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.
And Duncan's horses,--a thing most strange and certain,--
Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,
Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make
War with mankind.
'Tis said they eat each other.
They did so; to the amazement of mine eyes,
That look'd upon't.
Here comes the good Macduff.
How goes the world, sir, now?
Why, see you not?
Is't known who did this more than bloody deed?
Those that Macbeth hath slain.
Alas, the day!
What good could they pretend?
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.
'Gainst nature still:
Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up
Thine own life's means!--Then 'tis most like,
The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.
He is already nam'd; and gone to Scone
To be invested.
Where is Duncan's body?
Carried to Colme-kill,
The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
And guardian of their bones.
Will you to Scone?
No, cousin, I'll to Fife.
Well, I will thither.
Well, may you see things well done there,--adieu!--
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!
God's benison go with you; and with those
That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!
SCENE I. Forres. A Room in the Palace.
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.
(Sennet sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth
as Queen; Lennox, Ross, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants.)
Here's our chief guest.
If he had been forgotten,
It had been as a gap in our great feast,
And all-thing unbecoming.
To-night we hold a solemn supper, sir,
And I'll request your presence.
Let your highness
Command upon me; to the which my duties
Are with a most indissoluble tie
For ever knit.
Ride you this afternoon?
Ay, my good lord.
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?
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.
Fail not our feast.
My lord, I will not.
We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'd
In England and in Ireland; not confessing
Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers
With strange invention: 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?
Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon's.
I wish your horses swift and sure of foot;
And so I do commend you to their backs.
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, God be with you!
(Exeunt Lady Macbeth, Lords, Ladies, &c.)
Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men
They are, my lord, without the palace gate.
Bring them before us.
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 Caesar. 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't 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!--Who's there?--
(Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers.)
Now go to the door, and stay there till we call.
Was it not yesterday we spoke together?
It was, so please your highness.
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 to a notion craz'd
Say, "Thus did Banquo."
You made it known to us.
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 forever?
We are men, my liege.
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 valu'd 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,
Not i' 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.
I am one, my liege,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
Have so incens'd that I am reckless what
I do to spite the world.
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.
Both of you
Know Banquo was your enemy.
True, my lord.
So is he mine; and in such bloody distance,
That every minute of his being thrusts
Against my near'st of life; and though I could
With barefac'd power sweep him from my sight,
And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not,
For certain friends that are both his and mine,
Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall
Who I myself struck down: and thence it is
That I to your assistance do make love;
Masking the business from the common eye
For sundry weighty reasons.
We shall, my lord,
Perform what you command us.
Though our lives--
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.
We are resolv'd, my lord.
I'll call upon you straight: abide within.
It is concluded:--Banquo, thy soul's flight,
If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.
SCENE II. The same. Another Room in the Palace.
(Enter Lady Macbeth and a Servant.)
Is Banquo gone from court?
Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.
Say to the king, I would attend his leisure
For a few words.
Madam, I will.
Naught'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.
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 all remedy
Should be without regard: what's done is done.
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 peace, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie
In restless ecstasy. 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.
Gently my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;
Be bright and jovial 'mong your guests to-night.
So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you:
Let your remembrance apply to Banquo;
Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue:
Unsafe the while, that we
Must lave our honors in these flattering streams;
And make our faces vizards to our hearts,
Disguising what they are.
You must leave this.
O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.