29 To this dead man than you shall see me pay. Cli. What I, my lord? No, not for all the I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time. world. Come therefore, and to Thassos send his body : Bru. Peace then! no words, His funerals shall not be in our camp, Cli. I'll rather kill mrself. Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come ; Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius. Ilhispers And come, young Cato ; let us to the field. Dar. Shall I do such a deed! Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on : Cli. O Dardanius ! 'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night Dar. O Clitus! We shall try fortune in a second tight. Exeunt. Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee! Dar. To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates. SCENE IV.-Another Part of the field. Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes. Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both Armies ; Bru. Come hither, good Volumpius: list a then BRUTUS, CATO, LUCILIUS, and Others. word. Bru. Yet, countrymen, O! yet hold up your Vol. What says my lord ! heads. Bru. Why, this, Volumnius: Cato. What bastard doth not? Who will go The ghost of Cæsar bath appear'd to me with me? Two several times by night ; at Sardis once, I will proclaim my name about the field: And, this last night, here in Philippi fields. I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho ! I know my hour is come. A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend; Vol. Not so, my lord. I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Our enemies have beat us to the pit : Brutus. Exit. Low alarums, Lucil. O young and noble Cato! art thou It is more worthy to leap in ourselves down? Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius, 10 Thou know'st that we two went to school And may'st be honour'd, being Cato's son. together; First Sold. Yield, or thou diest. Even for tbat our love of old, I prithee, Lucil. Only I yield to die: Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it. There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight. Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord. Ojering money. Alarum still. Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death. Cli. Fly, fly, my lord! there is no tarrying here. First Sold. We must not. A noble prisoner! Biu. Farewell to you; and you; and you, Second Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus Volumnius. is ta’en. Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; First Sold. I'll tell the news, Here comes Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen, the general. My heart doth joy that yet in all my life I found no man but he was true to me. I shall have glory by this losing day, By this vile conquest shall attain unto. Lucil. Safe, Antony ; Brutus is safe enough. So fare you well at once ; for Brutus' tongue I dare assure thee that no enemy Hath almost ended his life's history. Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus ; Night hangs upon mine eyes ; my bones would The gods defend him from so great a shame! rest, When you do find him, or alive or dead, That have but labour'd to attain this hour. He will be found like Brutus, like himself. Alarum. Cry within, • Fly, fly, fly." Ant. This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure Cli. Fly, my lord, fly! you, Bru. Hence! I will follow. A prize no less in worth. Keep this man safe; Exeunt CliTUS, DARDANIL'S, and Give him all kindness; I had rather have VOLUMNIUS. Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord. And see whe'r Brutus be alive or dead; 30 Thou art a fellow of a good respect ; And bring us word unto Octavius' tent Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it : How every thing is chanc'd. Exeunt. Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato: SCENE V.-Another Part of the field. Stra. Give me your hand first : fare you well, Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO, Bru. Farewell, good Strato, Cæsar, now be and VOLUMNIUS. still : Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on I kill'd not thee with half so good a will. this rock. He runs on his sword, and dies. Cli. Statilius show'd the torch-light, but, my lord, Alarum. Retreat. Enter. OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, He came not back; he is or ta'en or slain. MESSALA, LUCIlius, and their Army. Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus: slaving is the word; Oct. What man is that? It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. Jies. My master's man. Strato, where is thy Whispers. master? 21 my lord. Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, The conquerors can but make a fire of him; That thou hast prov'd Lucilius' saying true. them. his Sons. Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? Mes. How died my master, Strato? Stra. I held the sword, and he did run So call the field to rest; and let's away, 80 on it. DUNCAN, King of Scotland. DONALBAIN, S BANQUO, Generals of the King's Army. MACDUFF, Ross, ANGUS, Noblemen of Scotland. 60 MACBETH. CAITHNESS, FLEANCE, Son to Banquo. SIWARD, Earl of Northumberland, General of the English Forces. DRAMATIS PERSONE. Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all : So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up 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? All. Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air. Oct. According to his virtue let us use him, Second Witch. When the hurlyburly 's done, Third Witch. That will be ere the set of sun. Second Witch. Upon the heath. The Ghost of Banquo, and other Apparitions. 10 Young SIWARD, his Son. SEYTON, an Officer attending on Macbeth. An English Doctor. A Sergeant. A Porter. An old Man. LADY MACBETH. Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth. Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, 70 SCENE II-A Camp near Forres. Alarum within. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant. Dun. What bloody man is that? He can report, Mal. Ser. The multiplying villanies of nature 20 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 Dun. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth. Dun. What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won. Exeunt. Dun. Ross. That now 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. SCENE III-A Heath. Thunder. Enter the three Witches. First Witch. Where hast thou been, sister! Second Witch. Killing swine. Third Witch. Sister, where thou? First Witch. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap, And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd: 'Give me,' quoth I: 'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries, Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master of the Tiger: But in a sieve I'll thither sail, Second 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, I will drain him dry as hay: Weary se'nnights nine times nine Second Witch. Show me, show me. Drum within. 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. 60 By each at once her choppy finger laying Enter MACBETH and BANQUO. So wither'd and so wild in their attire, Macb. Ang. 110 60 me Second Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, We are sent Thane of Cawdor! To give thee from our royal master thanks ; 101 Third Witch. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt Only to herald thee into his sight, be king hereafter. 50 Not pay thee. Ban. Good sir, why do you start, and seem to Ross. And for an earnest of a greater honour, fear He bade me, from bim, call thee Thane of Things that do sound so fair? 1' the name of Cawdor: truth, In which addition, hail, most worthy thane ! Are ye fantastical, or that indeed For it is thine. Which out lly ye show? My noble partner Ban. What! can the devil speak true ? You greet with present grace and great prediction Macb. The Thane of Cawdor lives : why do Of noble having and of royal hope, you dress me That he seems rapt withal : to me you speak In borrow'd robes ? not. Ang. Who was the thane lives yet ; If you can look into the seeds of time, But under heavy judgment bears that life And say which grain will grow and which will Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was not, combin'd Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear With those of Norway, or did line the rebel Your favours nor your hate. With hidden help and vantage, or that with both Pirst Witch. Hail ! He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not ; Second Witch. Hail ! But treasons capital, confess'd and prov'd, Third Witch. Hail ! Have overthrown him. First Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. Macb. Aside. Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor: Second Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier. The greatest is behind. To Ross and ANGUS. Third Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though Thanks for your pains. thou be none : To BANQUO. Do you not hope your children So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! shall be kings, First Witch. Banquo and Macbeth, all hail ! When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to Macb. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more: -70 Promis'd no less to them ? By Sinel's death I know I am Thane of Glamis ; Ban. That, trusted home, 120 But how of Cawdor ? the Thane of Cawdor lives, Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, A prosperous gentleman; and to be king Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange : Stands not within the prospect of belief And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence The instruments of darkness tell us truths, You owe this strange intelligence? or why Win us with honest trifles, to betray 's Upon this blasted heath you stop our way, In deepest consequence. With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge Cousins, a word, I pray you. you. Witches vanish. Macb. Aside. Two truths are told, Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, As happy prologues to the swelling act And these are of them. Whither are they of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen. vanish'd ? Aside. This supernatural soliciting. Macb. Into the air, and what seem'd corporal Cannot be ill, cannot be good ; if ill, melted Why hath it given me earnest of success, As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd! Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor: Ban. Were such things here as we do speak If good, why do I yield to that suggestion abont? Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair Or have we eaten on the insane root And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, That takes the reason prisoner ? Against the use of nature ? Present fears Macb. Your children shall be kings. Are less than horrible imaginings ; Ban. You shall be king. My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it Shakes so my single state of man that function not so ? Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is Ban. To the self-same tune and words. Who's But what is not. here? Ban. Look, how our partner's rapt. Macb. Aside. If chance will have me king, Enter Ross and ANGUS. why, chance may crown me, Ross. The king bath happily receiv'd, Macbeth, Without my stir. The news of thy success; and when he reads 90 Ban, New honours come upon him, Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their His wonders and his praises do contend mould Which should be thine or his. Silenc'd with But with the aid of use. that, Macb. Aside. Come what come may, In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day, Timeand the hour runs through the roughest day. He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your Nothing afеard of what thyself didst make, leisure. Strange images of death. As thick as hail Macb. Give me your favour : my dull brain Came post with post, and every one did bear was wrought Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence, With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your And pour'd them down before him. pains 80 130 141 100 150 Are register'd where every day I turn Aside to BANQUO. Think upon what hath Ban. Very gladly. Macb. Till then, enough. Come, friends. Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Forres. A Room in the Palace. Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, and Attendants. Dun. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet return'd? Mal. My liege, Dun. There's no art deserv'd, That the proportion both of thanks and ment 10 Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, Ross, and ANGUS. SCENE V.-Inverness. MACBETH'S Castle. Enter Lady MACBETH, reading a letter. They met me in the day of success; and I have learned by the perfectest report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made thenselves air, into which they vanished. Whiles 1 stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who all-hailed me Thane of Cawdor'; by which title, before, these weird sisters saluted se and referred me to the coming on of time, with Hail, king that shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou mightest not lose the dues of rejoic ing, by being ignorant of what greatness is propay-Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be mised thee. Luy it to thy heart, and farewell, " 14 What thou art promis'd. Yet do I fear thy nature; Macb. The rest is labour, which is not us'd I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful 21 Might have been mine! only I have left to say, Which do but what they should, by doing every thing Welcome hither: Bun. There if I grow, The harvest is your own. Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter 40 But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine 31 Dun. On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, Erit. Dun. True, worthy Banquo; he is full so And in his commendations I am fed ; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness Art not without ambition, but without And yet would'st wrongly win; thou 'dst have, And that which rather thou dost fear to do That I may pour my spirits in thine ear, Enter a Messenger. What is your tidings! » Mess. The king comes here to-night. |