Macbeth's Temper.

Yet do I fear thy nature:

It is too full o' the milk of human kindness,
To catch the nearest way thou wouldst be
great;

Art not without ambition, but without
The illness should attend it. What thou
wouldst highly,

[false, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play And yet wouldst wrongly win.

Lady Macbeth, on the News of Duncan's
Approach.

The raven himself is hoarse,
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, come you
spirits

To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other

True Fortitude.

I dare do all that may become a man!
Who dares do more, is none.

The murdering Scene. Macbeth alone.
Is this a dagger, which I see before me,
The handle tow'rd my hand? Come, let me
clutch thee-

I have thee not; and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind; a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, I see thee yet, in form as palpable And fill me from the crown to the toe, top-full As this which I now drawOf direst cruelty! make thick my blood, Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going; Stop up th' access and passage to remorse; And such an instrument I was to use. [senses, That no compunctious visitings of nature Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other Shake my fell purpose, nor keep pace between Or else worth all the rest :-I see thee still; The effect and it! Come to my woman's And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of breasts, [thing: And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring Which was not so before-There's no such Wherever in your sightless substances [night, It is the bloody business, which informs You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick Thus to mine eyes.-Now o'er the one half And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes; [dark, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the "Hold! hold !".

To cry,

Macbeth's Irresolution.

[ministers,

If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere
well

It were done quickly if the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch,
With his surcease, success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here upon this bank and shoal of time,
We'd jump the life to come. But, in these
cases,

blood,

world

Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd murder,
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, [thy pace,
Whose howl 's his watch, thus with his steal-
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, tow'rds his

design

[earth,

Moves like a ghost-Thou sure and firm-set Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear

Thy very stones prate of my where-about, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it-Whiles I threat, he lives[A bell rings. [teach I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. We still have judgment here; that we but Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell Bloody instructions, which being taught, re- That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

[justice

turn
To plague the inventor: this even-handed
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd
chalice

To our own lips. He's here in double trust:
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed; then as his host,
Who should against his murderer shut the
door,

Enter Lady.

[Exit.

Lady. That which hath made them drunk,

hath made me bold : [Hark! peace! What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire: It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bell-man, Which gives the stern'st good night.-He is about it :

drugg'd their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die. [ho!

[Duncan The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Do mock their charge with snores; I have Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, The deep damnation of his taking-off: [against And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in ev'ry eye, [spur Confounds us !-hark!-I laid their daggers That tears shall drown the wind.-I have no He could not miss 'em.-Had he not resembled

Macb. [Within] Who's there?—what, Lady. Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd, And 'tis not done :-the attempt, and not the deed, [ready,

Macb. Hark! who lies i' the second cham-
Lady. Donalbain.

Macb. This is a sorry sight!

[Looks on his hands. Lady. A foolish thought! to say a sorry sight. [and one cried, "murder !" Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep,| That they did wake each other! I stood and heard them:

What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will
The multitudinous seas incarnardine [rather
Making the green one red.
Re-enter Lady.

Lady. My hands are of your color; but I
[Knock.

shame

To wear a heart so white. I hear a knocking At the south entry. Retire we to our chamA little water clears us of this deed: [ber; How easy is it then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended-hark! more knocking: [Knock. Get on your night-gown, lest occasion call us, [them And show us to be watchers; be not lost But they did say their prayers, and address'd So poorly in your thoughts. Again to sleep.

Lady. There are two lodg'd together.
Macb. One cried, "God bless us !" and
"Amen!" the other;
[hands,
As they had seen me, with these hangman's
Listening their fear. I could not say, Amen,
When they did say, God bless us.

Lady. Consider it not so deeply. [Amen?]
Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce
I had most need of blessing, and Amen
Stuck in my throat.

Lady. These deeds must not be thought
After these ways; so it will make us mad.
Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry,
26 'Sleep no more!

Macbeth doth murder sleep, the innocent sleep,
Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second
Chief nourisher in life's feast." [course,

Macb. To know my deed-'twere best not know myself

Wake, Duncan, with this knocking! I would
thou couldst !

Macbeth's guilty Conscience, and Fears of
Banquo.

Enter Macbeth to his Lady.
Lady. How now, my lord? why do you
keep alone,

Of sorriest fancies your companions making?
Using those thoughts which should indeed

have died
With them they think on?
Should be without regard:

done.

[all remedy Things without what 's done, is [kill'd it ;

Macb. We have scotch'd the snake, not She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. Lady. What do you mean? [all the house: But let the frame of things disjoint, both the Macb. Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" to worlds suffer,

"Glamis hath murder'd sleep; and therefore Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep Cawdor [more!" In the affliction of these terrible dreams, Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no That shake us nightly. Better be with the Lady. Who was it that thus cried? Why,

dead [peace, Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy.-Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poi[smear Malice domestic, foreign levy; nothing

worthy Thane,
You do unbend your noble strength, to think
So brain-sickly of things: go, get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.
Why did you bring these dangers from the
place?

They must lie there: go, carry them; and Can touch him farther!
The sleepy grooms with blood.

Macb. I'll go no more:

I am afraid to think what I have done;
Look on 't again I dare not.

Lady. Infirm of purpose!

Give me the daggers: the sleeping, and the
dead,

Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
For it must seem their guilt.

[Exit.

[son,

O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
Thou know'st that Banquo and his Fleance
lives.
[eterne.
Lady. But in them nature's copy's not
Macb. There's comfort yet, they are as-
sailable;

Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown
His cloister'd flight; ere, to black Hecate's

summons,

The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums,

Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be | Why do you make such faces? when all 's A deed of dreadful note. [done You look but on a stool.

Lady. What 's to be done? [est chuck, Macb. Pr'ythee, see there! Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dear- Behold! look! lo! how say you? Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling

too.

[done,

[Pointing to the Ghost. Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; [night, Why, what care I? if thou canst nod, speak And, with thy bloody and invisible hand, Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond Which keeps me pale! Light thickens Makes wing to the rooky wood: [the crow Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; While night's black agents to their prey do

rouse.

If charnel-houses and our graves must send and Those, that we bury, back-our monuments Shall be the maws of kites.

You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold,
That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making,
"Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at
home;

From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony:
Meeting were bare without it.

[The Ghost of Banquo rises, and sits in
Macbeth's Place.

Macb. Sweet remembrancer!Now, good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both!

Len. May 't please your highness sit?
Macb. Here had we now our country's ho-
nor roof'd,

Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present;
Whom I may rather challenge for unkindness,
Than pity for mischance.

Rosse. His absence, Sir, [highness
Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your
To grace us with your royal company?
Macb. The table 's full!
Len. Here is a place reserved, Sir.
Macb. Where?

Len. Here, my good lord.

[Starting.

What is 't that moves your highness?

[The Ghost vanishes.
Lady. What! quite unmann'd in folly ?
Mach. If I stand here, I saw him.
Lady. Fie, for shame!

[olden time,

Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the
Ere human statute purg'd the gen'ral weal;
Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd
Too terrible for the ear: the times have been,
That, when the brains were out, the man
would die ;

And there an end: but now they rise again,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools: this is more
strange

Than such a murder is.

Lady. My worthy lord,
Your noble friends do lack you.
Macb. I do forget:

Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends;
I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing
To those that know me. Come, love and
health to all;
[full:
Then I'll sit down give me some wine, fill
I drink to the general joy of the whole table,
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we
miss:
[thirst,
Would he were here! to all, and him, we
And all to all.

Lords. Our duties, and the pledge.
[The Ghost rises again.
Macb. Avaunt! and quit my sight! Let

the earth hide thee!

Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes, [shake Which thou dost glare with!

Macb. Which of you have done this?
Lords. What, my good lord?

Macb. Thou canst not say, I did it never

Thy gory locks at me.

[well.

Lady. Think of this, good peers,
But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
Rosse. Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.
Lady. Sit, worthy friends :-my lord is
often thus,
[seat;
And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep
The fit is momentary; upon a thought
He will again be well: if much you note him,
You shall offend him, and extend his passion;
Feed, and regard him not.-Are you a man?
[To Macb. aside.
Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look
Which might appal the devil.
[on that

Lady. O proper stuff!
This is the very painting of your fear : [Aside.
This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. O these flaws and starts
(Impostors to true fear) would well become
A woman's story at a winter's fire,
Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself!

Macb. What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the Russian rugged bear, The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble; or, be alive again, And dare me to the desert with thy sword; If trembling I inhibit thee, protest me The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow ! Unreal mockery, hence! Why, so-being gone, [The Ghost vanishes. am a man again.-Pray you, sit still. [The Lords rise. Lady. You have displac'd the mirth, broke the good meeting,

I

With most admir'd disorder.
Macb. Can such things be,

And overcome us like a summer's cloud,

Without our special wonder? You make me | Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,
Even to the disposition that I owe, [strange, Thy hope ends here!
When now I think you can behold such sights,
And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,
When mine are blanch'd with fear.

Rosse. What sights, my lord?

Lady. I pray you, speak not; he grows
worse and worse;

Question enrages him at once, good night:
Stand not upon the order of your going:
But go at once.

Len. Good night, and better health
Attend his majesty.

Lady. A kind good night to all.

[Exeunt Lords. Macb. It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood: [speak; Stones have been known to move, and trees to Augurs, and understood relations, have [forth, By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought The secret'st man of blood.

Witches: their Power.

Mal. Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my
thoughts
[beth

To thy good truth and honor. Devilish Mac-
By many of these trains hath sought to win me
Into his pow'r; 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 [ing
No less in truth than life; my first false speak-
Was this upon myself. What I am truly,
Is thine, and my poor country's, to command.
An oppressed Country.

Alas! poor country;

Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot

nothing

I conjure you, by that which you profess (Howe'er you come to know it), answer me; Though you untie the winds, and let them fight Against the churches; though the yesty waves Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where Confound and swallow navigation up: [down;| Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile: Though castles topple on their warders' heads; Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope the air, Their heads to their foundations; though the

treasure

Of nature's germins tumble altogether,
Even till destruction sickens, answer me
To what I ask you.

Malcolm's Character of himself.
Mal. 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, [should
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I pow'r I
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.

Macd. O Scotland, Scotland!

[seems
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow
A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell
Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's
Expire before the flowers in their caps, [lives
Dying, or ere they sicken.

Macduff on the Murder of his Wife and
Children.

Rosse. 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.

Macd. What concern they?

The general cause? or is it a fee-grief,
Due to some single breast?

Rosse. No mind that's honest

But in it shares some woe; tho' the main part
Pertains to you alone.

Macd. If it be mine,

Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak; Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

I am as I have spoken.

Macd. Fit to govern!

No, not to live.-O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant, bloody-sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days
again?

Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accurst,
And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal
father
[thee,
Was a most sainted king; the queen that bore
Oft'ner upon her knees than on her feet,
Died ev'ry day she liv'd. Fare thee well!
These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself,

Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, [sound Which shall possess them with the heaviest That ever yet they heard.

Macd. Humph! I guess at it. [and babes Rosse. Your castle is surpris'd; your wife Savagely slaughter'd; to relate the manner, Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, To add the death of you.

Mal. Merciful Heaven![brows; What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak, [break. Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it

Macd. My children too? [could be found. | Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all that That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, Macd. And I must be from thence! my And then is heard no more: it is a tale, Rosse. I have said. [wife kill'd too? Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Macd. He has no children!-All my pretty
Did you say all? what, all? O hell-kite! all?
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell swoop?

Mal. Dispute it like a man.
Macd. 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.

look on,
And would not take their part?
They were all struck for thee!
Not for their own demerits, but
Fell slaughter on their souls:
them now!

In Dispraise of Honesty.
WE cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought but provender; and, when he is
old, cashier'd:
Whip me such honest knaves. Others there

are,

Did Heaven [duff, Sinful Mac- Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, Naught that I Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves: for mine, [am, And throwing but shows of service on their Heaven rest lords, [lin'd their coats, [let grief Do well thrive by them; and when they have Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword; Do themselves homage: these fellows have Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage some soul, [mine eyes, And such a one do I profess myself. woman with For, sir,

it.

Macd. O, I could play the And braggart with my tongue! Heaven,

But, gentle It is as sure as you are Roderigo,

Cut short all intermission: front to front
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself;
Within my sword's length set him; if he
Heaven forgive him too!
['scape,

Mal. This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our pow'r 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.

Despised Old Age.

[Exeunt.

I have liv'd 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,
[dare not.
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but

Diseases of the Mind incurable.
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd;
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?

Reflections on Life.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
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!

Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve,
For doves to peck at: I am not what I seem.
Othello's Relation of his Courtship to the
Senate.

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approved good masters-
That I have ta'en away this old man's daugh-
ter,

It is most true; true, I have married her;
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my
speech,

And little blest with the set phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years'
pith,
[us'd
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have
Their dearest action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious
patience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver,
Of my whole course of love; what drugs,
what charms,

What conjuration, and what mighty magic
(For such proceeding I am charg'd withal),
I won his daughter with.

Her father lov'd me; oft invited me ;
Still question'd me the story of my life,