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and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand


Doct. How came fhe by that light?

Gent. Why, it stood by her. She has light by her continually; 'tis her command.

Doct. You fee, her eyes are open.

Gent. Ay, but their fenfe is fhut.

Doct. What is it fhe does now? Look how fhe rubs her hands.

Gent. It is an accuftom'd action with her, to feem thus washing her hands; I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.

Lady. Yet here's a fpot. Dot. Hark, fhe fpeaks. I will fet down what comes from her, to fatisfy my remembrance the more ftrongly.

Lady. Out! damned fpot! out, I fay !——One; two; why then, 'tis time to do't:- Hell is murky!

Fie, my lord, fie! a foldier, and afraid? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?-Yet who would have thought the old man to have had fo much blood in him?

Dot. Do you mark that?

Lady. The Thane of Fife had a wife; Where is the now? What, will thefe hands ne'er be clean ?—


Hell is murky! Lady Macbeth is acting over, in a dream, the bufinefs of the murder, and encouraging her husband as when awake. She therefore, would never have faid any thing of the terrors of hell to one whofe confcience the faw was too much alarmed already for her purpofe. She certainly imagines herself here talking to Macbeth, who (fhe fuppofes) has juft faid, Hell is murky, (i. e. hell is a difinal place to go to in confequence of fuch a deed) and repeats his words in contempt of his cowardice.

Hell is murky!Fie, fie my lord, fie! a feldier, and afraid? This explanation, I think, gives a fpirit to the paffage, which, has hitherto appeared languid, being, perhaps, mifapprehended by those who placed a full point at the conclufion of it. STEEVENS.




No more o'that, my lord, no more o'that you mar all with this starting.

Dot. Go to, go to; you have known what you fhould not.

Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am fure of that: Heaven knows, what fhe has known. Lady. Here's the smell of the blood still all the perfumes of Arabia will not fweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh!

Dot. What a figh is there? The heart is forely charg❜d.

Gent. I would not have fuch a heart in my bofom, for the dignity of the whole body.

Dot. Well, well, well,

Gent. Pray God, it be, fir.

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known thofe which have walk'd in their fleep, who have died holily in their beds.

Lady. Wash your hands, put on your night-gown ; look not fo pale:--I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave.

Do. Even fo?

Lady. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand; what's done, cannot be undone:

bed, to bed.

Doct. Will the go now to bed?

Gent. Directly.

To bed, to

[Exit Lady.

Dot. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural


Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will difcharge their fecrets.
More needs fhe 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 amaz’d my fight; I think, but dare not speak.

Gent. Good night, good doctor.

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Drum and Colours. Enter Menteth, Cathness, Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers.

Ment. The English power is near, led on by

His uncle Seyward, and the good Macduff,
Revenges burn in them: for their dear caufes
Would, to the bleeding and the grim alarm
Excite the mortified man.

Ang. Near Birnam-wood

Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming,
Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his brother?
Len. For certain, fir, he is not: I have a file
Of all the gentry; there is Seyward's fon
And many unrough youths, that even now,
Proteft their firft of manhood.

Ment. What does the tyrant?

Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies : Some fay, he's mad; others, that leffer hate him, Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, He cannot buckle his diftemper'd caufe

8 My mind fhe has mated,-] Conquer'd or fubdued. PopE. Rather aftonished, confounded. JOHNSON,

9 Excite the mortified man.]

Mr. Theobald will needs explain this expreffion. It means (fays he) the man who has abandoned himself to defpair, who has no fpirit or refolution left. And to fupport this fenfe of mortified man, he quotes mortified Spirit in another place. But if this was the meaning, Shakespeare had not wrote the mortified man, but a mertified man. In a word, by the mortified man, is meant a religious; one who has fubdued his paffions, is dead to the world, has abandoned it, and all the affairs of it: an Afcetic. WARBURTON,

L1 2


Within the belt of rule.

Ang. Now does he feel

His fecret murthers sticking on his hands;
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
Thofe, he commands, move only in command,
Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
Hang loofe about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.

Ment. Who then fhall blame

His pefter'd fenfes to recoil, and start,

1 When all that is within him does condemn Itfelf, for being there?

Cath. Well, march we on,

To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd.
Meet we the medecin of the fickly weal;

And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
Each drop of us.

Len. Or fo much as it needs,

To dew the fovereign flower, and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam.

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Enter Macbeth, Do&tor, and Attendants.

Mach. Bring me no more reports:-Let them fly all: 'Till Birnam-wood remove to Dunfinane,

I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? Spirits, that know
All mortal confequences, have pronounc'd me thus*:

1 When all that is within him does condemn
Itfelf, for being there?]

That is, when all the faculties of the mind are employed in felfcondemnation. JOHNSON.


Bring me no more reports, &c.]

Tell me not any more of defertions-Let all my fubjects leave meI am fafe till, &c. JOHNSON.

have pronounc'd me thus:]

So the old copy. The modern editors, for the fake of metre, bave pronounc'd it. STEVENS.



Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman,
Shall e'er have power upon thee.-Then fly, falfe Thanes,
And mingle with the English Epicures.

The mind I fway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never fagg with doubt, nor fhake with fear.
Enter a Servant.

The devil damn thee black, thou creamfac'd loon!
Where got'st thou that goofe-look?

Ser. There is ten thoufand

Macb. Geefe, villain?

Ser. Soldiers, fir.

Mach. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver'd boy. What foldiers, patch * ? Death of thy foul! + thofe linen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear. What foldiers, whey-face? Ser. The English force, fo pleafe you.

Mach. Take thy face hence.-Seytort!-I am fick at heart,

When I behold-Seyton, I fay!-This push


-English Epicures.]

The reproach of Epicurifin, on which Mr. Theobald has bestowed a note, is nothing more than a natural invective uttered by an inhabitant of a barren country, against those who have more opportunities of luxury. JOHNSON.

Shakespeare took the thought from Holinfhed, p. 180, of his Hiftory of Scotland: "For manie of the people abhorring the "riotous maners and fuperfluous gormandizing brought in "among them by the Engly themen, were willing inough to re"ceive this Donald for their king, trufting (becaufe he had beene "brought up in the Ifles with the old cuitomes and maners of "their antient nation, without taft of English likerous delicats), "&c." The fame hiftorian informs us, that in thofe days the Scots eat but once a day, and even then very fparingly. STEEVENS.

-patch?] An appellation of contempt, alluding to the py'd, patch'd, or particoloured coats anciently worn by the fools belonging to the people of diftinction. STEEVENS.


thofe linen cheeks of thine

Are counfellors to fear.- -]

The meaning is, they infect others who fee them with cowardice.



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