The Tragedy of Macbeth

  MESSENGER. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,    Though in your state of honor I am perfect.    I doubt some danger does approach you nearly.    If you will take a homely man's 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 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 defense,    To say I have done no harm – What are these faces?

Enter Murtherers.

  FIRST MURTHERER. Where is your husband?  LADY MACDUFF. I hope, in no place so unsanctified    Where such as thou mayst find him.  FIRST MURTHERER. He's a traitor.  SON. Thou liest, thou shag-ear'd villain!  FIRST MURTHERER. What, you egg!                                                      Stabs him.    Young fry of treachery!  SON. He has kill'd me, Mother.    Run away, I pray you! Dies.                            Exit Lady Macduff, crying "Murther!"                               Exeunt Murtherers, following her.

SCENE III. England. Before the King's palace

Enter 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 downfall'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 dolor.  MALCOLM. What I believe, I'll wall;    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 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.  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, 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 love,    Without leave-taking? I pray you,    Let not my jealousies be your dishonors,    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 affeer'd. 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.  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 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.  MACDUFF. 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 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.  MACDUFF. Not in the legions    Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd    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 there's no bottom, none,    In my voluptuousness. Your wives, your daughters,    Your matrons, and your maids could not fill up    The cestern 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.  MACDUFF. 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.  MALCOLM. 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.  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 not fear;    Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will    Of your mere own. All these are portable,    With other graces weigh'd.  MALCOLM. 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.  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-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!  MALCOLM. Macduff, this noble passion,    Child of integrity, hath from my soul    Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts    To thy good truth and honor. 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! 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, 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?  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 at his touch,    Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand,    They presently amend.  MALCOLM. I thank you, Doctor. Exit Doctor.  MACDUFF. What's the disease he means?  MALCOLM. 'Tis call'd 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 people,    All swol'n 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.

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 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.  MACDUFF. O, relation    Too nice, and yet too true!  MALCOLM. What's the newest grief?  ROSS. That of an hour's 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 batter'd at their 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 rumor    Of many worthy fellows that were out,    Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,    For that I saw the tyrant's 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. 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.  ROSS. 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.  MACDUFF. What concern they?    The general cause? Or is it a fee-grief    Due to some single breast?  ROSS. No mind that's honest    But in it shares some woe, though the main part    Pertains to you alone.  MACDUFF. If it be mine,    Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.  ROSS. Let not your ears despise my tongue forever,    Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound    That ever yet they heard.  MACDUFF. Humh! I guess at it.  ROSS. Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes    Savagely slaughter'd. To relate the manner    Were, on the quarry of these murther'd 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 o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.  MACDUFF. My children too?  ROSS. Wife, children, servants, all    That could be found.  MACDUFF. And I must be from thence!    My wife kill'd too?  ROSS. I have said.  MALCOLM. Be comforted.    Let's make us medicines 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 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 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 sword's length set him; 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 I. Dunsinane. Anteroom 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, have seenher    rise from her bed, throw her nightgown 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 thiswhile    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 thisslumbery    agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances,    what, at 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    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 is shut.  DOCTOR. What is it she does now? Look how she rubs her hands.  GENTLEWOMAN. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus    washing her hands. I have known her continue in this aquarter of    an hour.  LADY MACBETH. Yet here's 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    time to do't. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie! A soldier,and    afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can callour    power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man tohave    had so much blood in him?  DOCTOR. Do you mark that?  LADY MACBETH. The Thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now?What,    will these hands neer be clean? No more o' that, my lord, nomore    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 ofthat.    Heaven knows what she has known.  LADY MACBETH. Here's the smell of the blood still. All theperfumes    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 disease is beyond my practice. Yet I have knownthose    which have walked in their sleep who have died holily intheir    beds.  LADY MACBETH. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown, look notso    pale. I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot comeout    on's grave.  DOCTOR. Even so?  LADY MACBETH. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate.Come,    come, come, come, give me your hand.What's done cannot beundone.    To bed, to bed, to bed.Exit.  DOCTOR. Will she go now to bed?  GENTLEWOMAN. Directly.  DOCTOR. 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.  GENTLEWOMAN. Good night, good doctor.Exeunt

SCENE II. The country near Dunsinane. Drum and colors

Enter Menteith, Caithness, 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 be with his brother?  LENNOX. For certain, sir, he is not; I have a file    Of all the gentry. There is Seward's 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 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.  ANGUS. Now does he feel    His secret murthers 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.  MENTEITH. Who then shall blame    His pester'd 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 owed.    Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal,    And with him pour we, in our country's purge,    Each drop of us.  LENNOX. Or so 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. 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." 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 a Servant.

    The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!    Where got'st 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-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?    Death of thy soul! Those linen cheeks of thine    Are counselors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?  SERVANT. The English force, so please you.  MACBETH. Take thy face hence. Exit Servant.    Seyton-I am sick at heart,    When I behold- Seyton, I say! – This push    Will cheer me ever or disseat me now.    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 honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,    I must not look to have; but in their stead,    Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath,    Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not.    Seyton!

Enter Seyton.

  SEYTON. What's your gracious pleasure?  MACBETH. What news more?  SEYTON. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.  MACBETH. I'll fight, 'til from my bones my flesh be hack'd.    Give me my armor.  SEYTON. 'Tis not needed yet.  MACBETH. I'll put it on.    Send out more horses, skirr the country round,    Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armor.    How does your patient, doctor?  DOCTOR. Not so sick, my lord,    As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,    That keep her from her rest.  MACBETH. 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?  DOCTOR. Therein the patient    Must minister to himself.  MACBETH. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.    Come, put mine armor on; give me my staff.    Seyton, send out. Doctor, the Thanes fly from me.    Come, sir, dispatch. 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. Pull't off, I say.    What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug    Would scour these English hence? Hearst thou of them?  DOCTOR. Ay, my good lord, your royal preparation    Makes us hear something.  MACBETH. Bring it after me.    I will not be afraid of death and bane    Till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane.  DOCTOR. [Aside.] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,    Profit again should hardly draw me here. Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Country near Birnam Wood. Drum and colors

Enter Malcolm, old Seward and his Son, Macduff, Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, Ross, and Soldiers, marching.

  MALCOLM. Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand    That chambers will be safe.  MENTEITH. We doubt it nothing.  SIWARD. What wood is this before us?  MENTEITH. The Wood of Birnam.  MALCOLM. 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.  SOLDIERS. It shall be done.  SIWARD. We learn no other but the confident tyrant    Keeps still in Dunsinane and will endure    Our setting down before't.  MALCOLM. 'Tis his main hope;    For where there is advantage to be given,    Both more and less have given him the revolt,    And none serve with him but constrained things    Whose hearts are absent too.  MACDUFF. Let our just censures    Attend the true event, and put we on    Industrious soldiership.  SIWARD. 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.Exeunt Marching

SCENE V. Dunsinane. Within the castle

Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers, with drum and colors.

  MACBETH. 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.                                          A cry of women within.    What is that noise?  SEYTON. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Exit.  MACBETH. 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.Re-enter Seyton     Wherefore was that cry?  SEYTON. The Queen, my lord, is dead.  MACBETH. She should have died hereafter;    There would have been a time for such a word.    Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow    Creeps in this petty pace from day to day    To the last syllable of recorded time;    And all our yesterdays have lighted fools    The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!    Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player    That struts and frets his hour upon the stage    And then is heard no more. It is a tale    Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,    Signifying nothing.

Enter a Messenger.

    Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.  MESSENGER. Gracious my lord,    I should report that which I say I saw,    But know not how to do it.  MACBETH. Well, say, sir.  MESSENGER. As I did stand my watch upon the hill,    I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,    The Wood began to move.  MACBETH. Liar and slave!  MESSENGER. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so.    Within this three mile may you see it coming;    I say, a moving grove.  MACBETH. 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! Come, wrack!    At least we'll die with harness on our back. Exeunt.