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twg_000000021900 | of them but in his house I keep a servant feed. I will tomorrow (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 Steppd in so far that, should I wade | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021901 | no more, Returning were as tedious as go oer. Strange things I have in head, that will to hand, Which must be acted ere they may be scannd. LADY MACBETH. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. MACBETH. Come, well to sleep. My strange and self-abuse Is the initiate fear that wants hard use. We are yet but young | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021902 | in deed. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. The heath. Thunder. Enter the three Witches meeting Hecate. FIRST WITCH. Why, how now, Hecate? you look angerly. HECATE. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021903 | contriver of all harms, Was never calld 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021904 | Acheron Meet me i th morning: thither he Will come to know his destiny. Your vessels and your spells provide, Your charms, and everything beside. I am for th air; this night Ill spend Unto a dismal and a fatal end. Great business must be wrought ere noon. Upon the corner of the moon There hangs a vaprous drop profound; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021905 | Ill catch it ere it come to ground: And that, distilld by magic sleights, Shall raise such artificial sprites, 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 mortals chiefest enemy. [_Music and song | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021906 | within, Come away, come away &c._] Hark! I am calld; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me. [_Exit._] FIRST WITCH. Come, lets make haste; shell soon be back again. [_Exeunt._] SCENE VI. Forres. A Room in the Palace. Enter Lennox and another Lord. LENNOX. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021907 | interpret farther: only, I say, Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth:marry, he was dead: And the right valiant Banquo walkd too late; Whom, you may say, ift please you, Fleance killd, For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021908 | 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 angerd any heart alive, To hear the men denyt. So that, I say, He has | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021909 | borne all things well: and I do think, That had he Duncans sons under his key (As, andt please heaven, he shall not) they should find What twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. But, peace!for from broad words, and cause he faild His presence at the tyrants feast, I hear, Macduff lives in disgrace. Sir, can you tell | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021910 | Where he bestows himself? LORD. The son of Duncan, From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth, Lives in the English court and is receivd 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, upon his aid To wake Northumberland, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021911 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021912 | for some attempt of war. LENNOX. 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, Youll rue the time That clogs me with this answer. LENNOX. And that well might Advise him to a caution, t hold what distance His wisdom can | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021913 | 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 accursd! LORD. Ill send my prayers with him. [_Exeunt._] ACT IV SCENE I. A dark Cave. In the middle, a Cauldron Boiling. Thunder. Enter the three Witches. FIRST | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021914 | WITCH. Thrice the brinded cat hath mewd. SECOND WITCH. Thrice, and once the hedge-pig whind. THIRD WITCH. Harpier cries:Tis time, tis time. FIRST WITCH. Round about the cauldron go; In the poisond entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Swelterd venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i th charmed pot! ALL. Double, double, toil and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021915 | trouble; Fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble. SECOND WITCH. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adders fork, and blind-worms sting, Lizards leg, and howlets wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. ALL. Double, double, toil and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021916 | trouble; Fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble. THIRD WITCH. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witchs mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravind salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock diggd i th dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew Sliverd in the moons eclipse, Nose of Turk, and Tartars lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-deliverd by a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021917 | drab, Make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a tigers chaudron, For th ingredients of our cauldron. ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble. SECOND WITCH. Cool it with a baboons blood. Then the charm is firm and good. Enter Hecate. HECATE. O, well done! I commend your pains, And everyone shall share i th | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021918 | gains. And now about the cauldron sing, Like elves and fairies in a ring, Enchanting all that you put in. [_Music and a song: Black Spirits, &c._] [_Exit Hecate._] SECOND WITCH. By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks! Enter Macbeth. MACBETH. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags! What ist you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021919 | do? ALL. A deed without a name. MACBETH. I conjure you, by that which you profess, (Howeer you come to know it) answer me: Though you untie the winds, and let them fight Against the churches; though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up; Though bladed corn be lodgd, and trees blown down; Though castles topple on their warders | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021920 | heads; Though palaces and pyramids do slope Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure Of natures germens tumble all together, Even till destruction sicken, answer me To what I ask you. FIRST WITCH. Speak. SECOND WITCH. Demand. THIRD WITCH. Well answer. FIRST WITCH. Say, if thoudst rather hear it from our mouths, Or from our masters? MACBETH. Call em, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021921 | let me see em. FIRST WITCH. Pour in sows blood, that hath eaten Her nine farrow; grease thats sweaten From the murderers gibbet throw Into the flame. ALL. Come, high or low; Thyself and office deftly show! [_Thunder. An Apparition of an armed Head rises._] MACBETH. Tell me, thou unknown power, FIRST WITCH. He knows thy thought: Hear his speech, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021922 | but say thou naught. APPARITION. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware Macduff; Beware the Thane of Fife.Dismiss me.Enough. [_Descends._] MACBETH. Whateer thou art, for thy good caution, thanks; Thou hast harpd my fear aright.But one word more. FIRST WITCH. He will not be commanded. Heres another, More potent than the first. [_Thunder. An Apparition of a bloody Child rises._] APPARITION. Macbeth! Macbeth! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021923 | Macbeth! MACBETH. Had I three ears, Id hear thee. APPARITION. Be bloody, bold, and resolute. Laugh to scorn The power of man, for none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth. [_Descends._] MACBETH. Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee? But yet Ill make assurance double sure, And take a bond of fate. Thou shalt not live; That I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021924 | may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, And sleep in spite of thunder. [_Thunder. An Apparition of a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand, rises._] What is this, That rises like the issue of a king, And wears upon his baby brow the round And top of sovereignty? ALL. Listen, but speak not tot. APPARITION. Be lion-mettled, proud, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021925 | take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: Macbeth shall never vanquishd be, until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him. [_Descends._] MACBETH. That will never be: Who can impress the forest; bid the tree Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements, good! Rebellious head, rise never till the wood Of Birnam rise, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021926 | our high-placd Macbeth Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath To time and mortal custom.Yet my heart Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art Can tell so much, shall Banquos issue ever Reign in this kingdom? ALL. Seek to know no more. MACBETH. I will be satisfied: deny me this, And an eternal curse fall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021927 | on you! Let me know. Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this? [_Hautboys._] FIRST WITCH. Show! SECOND WITCH. Show! THIRD WITCH. Show! ALL. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, so depart! [_A show of eight kings appear, and pass over in order, the last with a glass in his hand; Banquo following._] MACBETH. Thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021928 | are too like the spirit of Banquo. Down! Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs:and thy hair, Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. A third is like the former.Filthy hags! Why do you show me this?A fourth!Start, eyes! What, will the line stretch out to th crack of doom? Another yet!A seventh!Ill see no more: And yet the eighth | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021929 | appears, who bears a glass Which shows me many more; and some I see That twofold balls and treble sceptres carry. Horrible sight!Now I see tis true; For the blood-bolterd Banquo smiles upon me, And points at them for his.What! is this so? FIRST WITCH. Ay, sir, all this is so:but why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? Come, sisters, cheer we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021930 | up his sprites, And show the best of our delights. Ill charm the air to give a sound, While you perform your antic round; That this great king may kindly say, Our duties did his welcome pay. [_Music. The Witches dance, and vanish._] MACBETH. Where are they? Gone?Let this pernicious hour Stand aye accursed in the calendar! Come in, without | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021931 | there! Enter Lennox. LENNOX. Whats your Graces will? MACBETH. Saw you the Weird Sisters? LENNOX. No, my lord. MACBETH. Came they not by you? LENNOX. No, indeed, my lord. MACBETH. Infected be the air whereon they ride; And damnd all those that trust them!I did hear The galloping of horse: who wast came by? LENNOX. Tis two or three, my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021932 | lord, that bring you word Macduff is fled to England. MACBETH. Fled to England! LENNOX. Ay, my good lord. MACBETH. Time, thou anticipatst my dread exploits: The flighty purpose never is oertook 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021933 | thoughts with acts, be it thought and done: The castle of Macduff I will surprise; Seize upon Fife; give to th edge o th sword His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool; This deed Ill do before this purpose cool: But no more sights!Where are these gentlemen? Come, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021934 | bring me where they are. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Fife. A Room in Macduffs Castle. Enter Lady Macduff her Son and Ross. LADY MACDUFF. What had he done, to make him fly the land? ROSS. You must have patience, madam. LADY MACDUFF. He had none: His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors. ROSS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021935 | You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. LADY MACDUFF. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion, and his titles, in a place From whence himself does fly? 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021936 | 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. ROSS. My dearest coz, I pray you, school yourself: but, for your husband, He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows The fits o th season. I dare not speak much further: But cruel | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021937 | 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 moveI take my leave of you: Shall not be long but Ill be here again. Things at the worst will cease, or else | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021938 | climb upward To what they were before.My pretty cousin, Blessing upon you! LADY MACDUFF. Fatherd he is, and yet hes fatherless. ROSS. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace and your discomfort: I take my leave at once. [_Exit._] LADY MACDUFF. Sirrah, your fathers dead. And what will you do now? How | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021939 | will you live? SON. As birds do, mother. LADY MACDUFF. What, with worms and flies? SON. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. LADY MACDUFF. Poor bird! thoudst never fear the net nor lime, The pit-fall nor the gin. SON. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is not dead, for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021940 | all your saying. LADY MACDUFF. Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou do for a father? SON. Nay, how will you do for a husband? LADY MACDUFF. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. SON. Then youll buy em to sell again. LADY MACDUFF. Thou speakst with all thy wit; And yet, i faith, with wit enough for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021941 | thee. SON. Was my father a traitor, mother? LADY MACDUFF. Ay, that he was. SON. What is a traitor? LADY MACDUFF. Why, one that swears and lies. SON. And be all traitors that do so? LADY MACDUFF. Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged. SON. And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021942 | LADY MACDUFF. Every one. SON. Who must hang them? LADY MACDUFF. Why, the honest men. SON. Then the liars and swearers are fools: for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them. LADY MACDUFF. Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father? SON. If he were dead, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021943 | yould weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father. LADY MACDUFF. Poor prattler, how thou talkst! Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, Though in your state of honour I am perfect. I doubt some danger does approach you nearly: If | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021944 | you will take a homely mans advice, Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. 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. [_Exit._] LADY MACDUFF. Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021945 | 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? What are these faces? Enter Murderers. FIRST MURDERER. Where is your husband? LADY MACDUFF. I hope, in no place so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021946 | unsanctified Where such as thou mayst find him. FIRST MURDERER. Hes a traitor. SON. Thou liest, thou shag-eard villain! FIRST MURDERER. What, you egg! [_Stabbing him._] Young fry of treachery! SON. He has killd me, mother: Run away, I pray you! [_Dies. Exit Lady Macduff, crying Murder! and pursued by the Murderers._] SCENE III. England. Before the Kings Palace. Enter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021947 | Malcolm and Macduff. MALCOLM. Let us seek out some desolate shade and there Weep our sad bosoms empty. MACDUFF. Let us rather Hold fast the mortal sword, and, like good men, Bestride our down-falln 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021948 | and yelld out Like syllable of dolour. MALCOLM. What I believe, Ill wail; What know, believe; and what I can redress, As I shall find the time to friend, I will. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021949 | touchd 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. MACDUFF. I am not treacherous. MALCOLM. But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon. That which you are, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021950 | 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. MACDUFF. I have lost my hopes. MALCOLM. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021951 | 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. MACDUFF. Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dare not check thee! wear thou thy wrongs; The title is affeerd.Fare thee well, lord: I would not be the villain | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021952 | that thou thinkst For the whole space thats in the tyrants grasp And the rich East to boot. MALCOLM. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021953 | 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 tyrants 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. MACDUFF. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021954 | What should he be? MALCOLM. It is myself I mean; in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted That, when they shall be opend, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compard With my confineless harms. MACDUFF. Not in the legions Of horrid hell can come | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021955 | a devil more damnd In evils to top Macbeth. MALCOLM. I grant him bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name: but theres 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021956 | would oerbear, That did oppose my will: better Macbeth Than such an one to reign. MACDUFF. Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny; it hath been Th 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021957 | seem coldthe 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 inclind. MALCOLM. With this there grows In my most ill-composd affection such A staunchless avarice, that, were I king, I should cut off the nobles for their lands; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021958 | Desire his jewels, and this others 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. MACDUFF. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021959 | not fear; Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will, Of your mere own. All these are portable, With other graces weighd. MALCOLM. But I have none: the king-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temprance, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021960 | 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. MACDUFF. O Scotland, Scotland! MALCOLM. If such a one be fit to govern, speak: I am as I have spoken. MACDUFF. Fit to govern? No, not to live.O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepterd, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021961 | When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accusd, And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father Was a most sainted king. The queen that bore thee, Oftner upon her knees than on her feet, Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! These evils thou repeatst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021962 | upon thyself Have banishd me from Scotland.O my breast, Thy hope ends here! MALCOLM. Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wiped the black scruples, reconcild 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021963 | haste: but God above Deal between thee and me! for even now I put myself to thy direction, and Unspeak mine own detraction; here abjure The taints and blames I laid upon myself, For strangers to my nature. I am yet Unknown to woman; never was forsworn; Scarcely have coveted what was mine own; At no time broke my faith; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021964 | 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 countrys to command: Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach, Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men, Already at a point, was setting forth. Now well together, and the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021965 | chance of goodness Be like our warranted quarrel. Why are you silent? MACDUFF. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once Tis hard to reconcile. Enter a Doctor. MALCOLM. Well; more anon.Comes the King forth, I pray you? DOCTOR. Ay, sir. There are a crew of wretched souls That stay his cure: their malady convinces The great assay of art; but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021966 | at his touch, Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, They presently amend. MALCOLM. I thank you, doctor. [_Exit Doctor._] MACDUFF. Whats the disease he means? MALCOLM. Tis calld the evil: A most miraculous work in this good king; Which often, since my here-remain in England, I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, Himself best knows, but strangely-visited | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021967 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021968 | him full of grace. Enter Ross. MACDUFF. See, who comes here? MALCOLM. My countryman; but yet I know him not. MACDUFF. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. MALCOLM. I know him now. Good God, betimes remove The means that makes us strangers! ROSS. Sir, amen. MACDUFF. Stands Scotland where it did? ROSS. Alas, poor country, Almost afraid to know itself! It | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021969 | cannot Be calld our mother, but our grave, where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks, that rent the air, Are made, not markd; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstasy. The dead mans knell Is there scarce askd for who; and good mens lives Expire before the flowers in their | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021970 | caps, Dying or ere they sicken. MACDUFF. O, relation Too nice, and yet too true! MALCOLM. Whats the newest grief? ROSS. That of an hours age doth hiss the speaker; Each minute teems a new one. MACDUFF. How does my wife? ROSS. Why, well. MACDUFF. And all my children? ROSS. Well too. MACDUFF. The tyrant has not batterd at their | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021971 | peace? ROSS. No; they were well at peace when I did leave em. MACDUFF. Be not a niggard of your speech: how goest? ROSS. 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 witnessd the rather, For that I saw | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021972 | the tyrants power afoot. Now is the time of help. Your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, make our women fight, To doff their dire distresses. MALCOLM. Bet 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. ROSS. Would I could | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021973 | answer This comfort with the like! But I have words That would be howld out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch them. MACDUFF. What concern they? The general cause? or is it a fee-grief Due to some single breast? ROSS. No mind thats honest But in it shares some woe, though the main part Pertains to you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021974 | alone. MACDUFF. If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. ROSS. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard. MACDUFF. Humh! I guess at it. ROSS. Your castle is surprisd; your wife and babes Savagely slaughterd. To relate the manner | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021975 | Were, on the quarry of these murderd deer, To add the death of you. MALCOLM. Merciful heaven! What, man! neer pull your hat upon your brows. Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak Whispers the oer-fraught heart, and bids it break. MACDUFF. My children too? ROSS. Wife, children, servants, all That could be found. MACDUFF. And I must | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021976 | be from thence! My wife killd too? ROSS. I have said. MALCOLM. Be comforted: Lets make us medcines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. MACDUFF. He has no children.All my pretty ones? Did you say all?O hell-kite!All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop? MALCOLM. Dispute it like a man. MACDUFF. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021977 | 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! Naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls: heaven | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021978 | rest them now! MALCOLM. Be this the whetstone of your sword. Let grief Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. MACDUFF. 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 swords length set him; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021979 | if he scape, Heaven forgive him too! MALCOLM. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the King. Our power is ready; Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may; The night is long that never finds the day. [_Exeunt._] ACT V SCENE | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021980 | I. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman. DOCTOR. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked? GENTLEWOMAN. Since his Majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021981 | closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upont, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. DOCTOR. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021982 | any time, have you heard her say? GENTLEWOMAN. That, sir, which I will not report after her. DOCTOR. You may to me; and tis most meet you should. GENTLEWOMAN. Neither to you nor anyone; having no witness to confirm my speech. Enter Lady Macbeth with a taper. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021983 | life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. DOCTOR. How came she by that light? GENTLEWOMAN. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually; tis her command. DOCTOR. You see, her eyes are open. GENTLEWOMAN. Ay, but their sense are shut. DOCTOR. What is it she does now? Look how she rubs her hands. GENTLEWOMAN. It is an | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021984 | accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. LADY MACBETH. Yet heres a spot. DOCTOR. Hark, she speaks. I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. LADY MACBETH. Out, damned spot! out, I say! One; two. Why, then tis | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021985 | time to dot. Hell is murky! Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? DOCTOR. Do you mark that? LADY MACBETH. The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021986 | is she now?What, will these hands neer be clean? No more o that, my lord, no more o that: you mar all with this starting. DOCTOR. Go to, go to. You have known what you should not. GENTLEWOMAN. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: heaven knows what she has known. LADY MACBETH. Heres the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021987 | smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh! DOCTOR. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged. GENTLEWOMAN. I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body. DOCTOR. Well, well, well. GENTLEWOMAN. Pray God it be, sir. DOCTOR. This | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021988 | disease is beyond my practice: yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds. LADY MACBETH. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale. I tell you yet again, Banquos buried; he cannot come out ons grave. DOCTOR. Even so? LADY MACBETH. To bed, to bed. Theres knocking | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021989 | at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand. Whats done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed. [_Exit._] DOCTOR. Will she go now to bed? GENTLEWOMAN. Directly. DOCTOR. Foul whisprings 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021990 | 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 amazd my sight. I think, but dare not speak. GENTLEWOMAN. Good night, good doctor. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. The Country near Dunsinane. Enter, with drum and colours Menteith, Caithness, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021991 | Angus, Lennox and Soldiers. MENTEITH. 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. ANGUS. Near Birnam wood Shall we well meet them. That way are they coming. CAITHNESS. Who knows if Donalbain | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021992 | be with his brother? LENNOX. For certain, sir, he is not. I have a file Of all the gentry: there is Siwards son And many unrough youths, that even now Protest their first of manhood. MENTEITH. What does the tyrant? CAITHNESS. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies. Some say hes mad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury: | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021993 | but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemperd cause Within the belt of rule. ANGUS. 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 giants robe Upon a dwarfish thief. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021994 | MENTEITH. Who, then, shall blame His pesterd senses to recoil and start, When all that is within him does condemn Itself for being there? CAITHNESS. Well, march we on, To give obedience where tis truly owd: Meet we the medcine of the sickly weal; And with him pour we, in our countrys purge, Each drop of us. LENNOX. Or so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021995 | much as it needs To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam. [_Exeunt, marching._] SCENE III. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Enter Macbeth, Doctor and Attendants. MACBETH. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all: Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane I cannot taint with fear. Whats the boy Malcolm? Was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021996 | he not born of woman? The spirits that know All mortal consequences have pronouncd me thus: Fear not, Macbeth; no man thats born of woman Shall eer have power upon thee.Then fly, false thanes, And mingle with the English epicures: The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. Enter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021997 | a Servant. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-facd loon! Where gottst thou that goose look? SERVANT. There is ten thousand MACBETH. Geese, villain? SERVANT. Soldiers, sir. MACBETH. Go prick thy face and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liverd boy. What soldiers, patch? Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face? SERVANT. The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021998 | English force, so please you. MACBETH. Take thy face hence. [_Exit Servant._] Seyton!I am sick at heart, When I beholdSeyton, I say!This push Will cheer me ever or disseat me now. I have livd long enough: my way of life Is falln into the sere, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000021999 | 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. Seyton! Enter Seyton. SEYTON. Whats your gracious pleasure? MACBETH. What news more? SEYTON. All is confirmd, my lord, which was reported. MACBETH. Ill fight till from my bones my flesh be | 60 | gutenberg |
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