PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Duncan, king of Scotland.
Malcolm, }his sons.
Donalbain,
Macbeth,

generals of the king's army.
Banquo,
Macduff,
Lenox,
Rosse,
Menteth,

noblemen of Scotland.
Angus,
Cathness,
Fleance, son to Banquo.
Siward, Earl of Northumberland, general of the Enge

lish forces.
Young Siward, his son.
Seyton, an officer attending on Macbeth.
Son to Macduff.
An English Doctor.
A Scotch Doctor.
A Soldier.
A Porter.
An old Man.

Lady Macbeth.
Lady Macduff.
Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth.
Hecate, and three Witches.

Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, At

tendants, and Messengers The Ghost of Banquo, and several other Apparitions. SCENE-in the end of the fourth act, lies in England;

through the rest of the play, in Scotland ; and, chiefly, at Macbeth's castle.

MACBETH.

ACT I.

SCENE 1.- An open Place. Thunder and Lightning.

Enter three Witches.

1 Witch. WHEN shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain ?

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

3 Witch. That will be ere set of sun.
1 Witch. Where the place?
2 Witch.

Upon the heath:
3 Witch. There to meet with Macbeth.
I Witch. I come, Graymalkin!

All. Paddock calls :--Anon. Fair is foul, and foul is fair; Hover through the fog and filthy air. (Witches vanish. SCENE II.- A Camp near Fores. Alarum within.

Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Soldier.

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

This is the sergeant,
Wbo, like a good and hardy soldier, fought

Do
Erc
Or
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'Gainst my captivity :

-Hail, brave friend!
Say to the king the knowledge of the broil,
As thou didst leave it.
Sol.

Doubtfully 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 Kernes 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 smok'd with bloody execution,
Like valour's minion,
Carv'd out his passage, till he fac'd the slave;
And 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!

Sol. As whence the sun 'gins his reflexion
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 arın'd,
Compell’d these skipping Kernes to trust their heels,
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,
With furbish'd arms, and new supplies of inen,
Began a fresh assault.
Dun.

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

Sol.
As sparrows, eagles ; or the bare, the lion.
If I say sooth, I must report they were
As canons overcharg'd with double cracks ;

Yes;

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 gasles cry for help.

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

[Exit Soldier, attended.

Enter Rosse.
- Who comes here?
Mal.

The worthy thane of Rosse.
Len. What a haste looks through his eyes! So should

he look,
'That seems to speak things strange.
Rosse.

God save the king !
Dun. Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane?
Rosse.

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, 'gan 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.

Great happiness!
Rosse. That now
Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colines' inclı,
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
Our bosom interest :-Go, pronounce his death,
And with his for ner title greet Micbeth.
Rosse. I'll see it done: