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Where our fate, hid within an augre-hole,

May rush, and seize us? Let's away; our tears

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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 pretence I fight

Of treasonous malice.




And so do I.

So all.

Let's briefly put on manly readiness,

And meet i'the hall together.


Well contented.

[Exeunt all but Mal. and Don.

Mal. What will you do? Let's not consort with


To show an unfelt sorrow, is an office

Which the false man does easy: I'll to England.

Don. 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.

Mal. 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.




Enter Rosse, and an old Man.

Old M. Threescore and ten I can remember


Within the volume of which time, I have seen Hours dreadful, and things strange; but this sore


Hath trifled former knowings.


Ah, good father,

Thou see'st, the heavens, as troubled with man's


Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day, And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp: Is it night's predominance, or the day's shame, That darkness does the face of earth intomb,

When living light should kiss it?

Old M.

'Tis unnatural,

Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,

A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place,

Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at, and kill'd.

Rosse. 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.

Old M.

'Tis said, they eat each other. Rosse. They did so; to the amazement of mine

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Rosse. Is't known, who did this more than

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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.

Macd. He is already nam'd; and gone to Scone, To be invested.


Where is Duncan's body?

Macd. Carried to Colmes-kill;

The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,

And guardian of their bones.


Will you to Scone?

Well, I will thither.

Macd. No, cousin, I'll to Fife.

Macd. Well, may you see things well done


Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!

Rosse. Father, farewel.

Old M. God's benison go with you; and with


That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!




Enter Banquo.

Ban. Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis,


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.

Senet sounded. Enter Macbeth, as King; Lady Macbeth, as Queen; Lenox, Rosse, Lords, Ladies and Attendants.

Mac. Here's our chief guest.

Lady M.

If he had been forgotten,

It had been as a gap in our great feast,

And all-thing unbecoming.

Mac. 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.

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