He only, in a general honest thought
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle, and the elements

So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world 'This was a man!'
Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect and rites of burial.

Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.
So call the field to rest, and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.

[Exeunt.

Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, Attendants, and Messengers.

SCENE: Scotland; England.

ACT I-SCENE I

A desert place.

Thunder and Lightning.

Enter three Witches.

First Witch. When shall we three meet again

In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

Sec. Witch. When the hurlyburly's done,
When the battle's lost and won.

Third Witch. That will be ere the set of sun.

First Witch. Where the place?

Sec. Witch.

Upon the heath.

Third Witch. There to meet with Macbeth

First Witch. I come, Graymalkin.

All. Paddock calls :-anon!

Fair is foul, and foul is fair.

Hover through the fog and filthy air.

Alarum within.

SCENE II

A camp near Forres.

[Exeunt.

Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant.

Dun. What bloody man is that? He can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt

Who like a good and hardy soldier fought
'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend!
Say to the king the knowledge of the broil
As thou didst leave it.

Ser.

Doubtful it stood;

As two spent swimmers, that do cling together
And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald-
Worthy to be a rebel, for to that

The multiplying villanies of nature

Do swarm upon him-from the western isles
Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied;
And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,
Show'd like a rebel's whore: but all's too weak:
For brave Macbeth-well he deserves that name-
Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel
Which smoked with bloody execution,

Like valour's minion carved out his

Till he faced the slave;

passage

Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,
And fix'd his head upon our battlements.
Dun. O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!
Ser. As whence the sun 'gins his reflection

Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break,
So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come
Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark:
No sooner justice had, with valour arm'd,

Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels,
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,
With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men,
Began a fresh assault.

Dun.

Dismay'd not this Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? Ser.

Yes;

As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.

If I say sooth, I must report they were

As cannons overcharged with double cracks; so they
Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe:

Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
Or memorize another Golgotha,

I cannot tell

But I am faint; my gashes cry for help.

Dun. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;
They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons.

[Exit Sergeant, attended.

The worthy thane of Ross.

Len. What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look That seems to speak things strange.

Ross.

God save the king!

Dun. Whence camest thou, worthy thane?
Ross.

From Fife, great king;

Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky
And fan our people cold. Norway himself
With terrible numbers,

Assisted by that most disloyal traitor

The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;
Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,
Confronted him with self-comparisons,

Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,
The victory fell on us.

Dun.

Ross. That now

Great happiness!

Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme's inch,
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death,

And with his former title greet Macbeth.

Ross. I'll see it done.

Dun. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. [Exeunt.

SCENE III

A heath.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

First Witch. Where hast thou been, sister?

Sec. Witch. Killing swine.

Third Witch. Sister, where thou?

First Witch. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,

And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd. Give me,'

quoth I:

'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries.

Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger;

But in a sieve I'll thither sail,

And, like a rat without a tail,
I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.

Sec. Witch. I'll give thee a wind.
First Witch. Thou 'rt kind.

Third Witch. And I another.

First Witch. I myself have all the other; .

And the very ports they blow,

All the quarters that they know

I' the shipman's card.

I will drain him dry as hay:
Sleep shall neither night nor day
Hang upon his pent-house lid;
He shall live a man forbid :
Weary se'nnights nine times nine
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine:
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
Look what I have.

Sec. Witch. Show me, show me.

First Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb,
Wreck'd as homeward he did come.

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.
Peace the charm's wound up.

Enter Macbeth and Banquo.

[Drum within.

Mach. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Ban. How far is 't call'd to Forres? What are these
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire,

That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught
That man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying

Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,

And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.

Macb.

Speak, if you can: what are you?

First Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis ! Sec. Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor ! Third Witch. All hail, Macbeth! thou shalt be king hereafter ! Ban. Good sir, why do you start, and seem to fear

Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth,

Are ye fantastical, or that indeed

Which outwardly ye show? 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,