Complete Plays, The

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Complete Plays, The Page 110

by William Shakespeare

If you can look into the seeds of time,

  And say which grain will grow and which will not,

  Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear

  Your favours nor your hate.

  First Witch

  Hail!

  Second Witch

  Hail!

  Third Witch

  Hail!

  First Witch

  Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.

  Second Witch

  Not so happy, yet much happier.

  Third Witch

  Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:

  So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!

  First Witch

  Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!

  Macbeth

  Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:

  By Sinel’s death I know I am thane of Glamis;

  But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,

  A prosperous gentleman; and to be king

  Stands not within the prospect of belief,

  No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence

  You owe this strange intelligence? or why

  Upon this blasted heath you stop our way

  With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.

  Witches vanish

  Banquo

  The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,

  And these are of them. Whither are they vanish’d?

  Macbeth

  Into the air; and what seem’d corporal melted

  As breath into the wind. Would they had stay’d!

  Banquo

  Were such things here as we do speak about?

  Or have we eaten on the insane root

  That takes the reason prisoner?

  Macbeth

  Your children shall be kings.

  Banquo

  You shall be king.

  Macbeth

  And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?

  Banquo

  To the selfsame tune and words. Who’s here?

  Enter Ross and Angus

  Ross

  The king hath happily received, Macbeth,

  The news of thy success; and when he reads

  Thy personal venture in the rebels’ fight,

  His wonders and his praises do contend

  Which should be thine or his: silenced with that,

  In viewing o’er the rest o’ the selfsame day,

  He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,

  Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,

  Strange images of death. As thick as hail

  Came post with post; and every one did bear

  Thy praises in his kingdom’s great defence,

  And pour’d them down before him.

  Angus

  We are sent

  To give thee from our royal master thanks;

  Only to herald thee into his sight,

  Not pay thee.

  Ross

  And, for an earnest of a greater honour,

  He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:

  In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!

  For it is thine.

  Banquo

  What, can the devil speak true?

  Macbeth

  The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me

  In borrow’d robes?

  Angus

  Who was the thane lives yet;

  But under heavy judgment bears that life

  Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined

  With those of Norway, or did line the rebel

  With hidden help and vantage, or that with both

  He labour’d in his country’s wreck, I know not;

  But treasons capital, confess’d and proved,

  Have overthrown him.

  Macbeth

  [Aside] Glamis, and thane of Cawdor!

  The greatest is behind.

  To Ross and Angus

  Thanks for your pains.

  To Banquo

  Do you not hope your children shall be kings,

  When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me

  Promised no less to them?

  Banquo

  That trusted home

  Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,

  Besides the thane of Cawdor. But ’tis strange:

  And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,

  The instruments of darkness tell us truths,

  Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s

  In deepest consequence.

  Cousins, a word, I pray you.

  Macbeth

  [Aside] Two truths are told,

  As happy prologues to the swelling act

  Of the imperial theme.— I thank you, gentlemen.

  Aside

  This supernatural soliciting

  Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,

  Why hath it given me earnest of success,

  Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:

  If good, why do I yield to that suggestion

  Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair

  And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,

  Against the use of nature? Present fears

  Are less than horrible imaginings:

  My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,

  Shakes so my single state of man that function

  Is smother’d in surmise, and nothing is

  But what is not.

  Banquo

  Look, how our partner’s rapt.

  Macbeth

  [Aside] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,

  Without my stir.

  Banquo

  New horrors come upon him,

  Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould

  But with the aid of use.

  Macbeth

  [Aside] Come what come may,

  Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

  Banquo

  Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

  Macbeth

  Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought

  With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains

  Are register’d where every day I turn

  The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.

  Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time,

  The interim having weigh’d it, let us speak

  Our free hearts each to other.

  Banquo

  Very gladly.

  Macbeth

  Till then, enough. Come, friends.

  Exeunt

  SCENE IV. FORRES. THE PALACE.

  Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, and Attendants

  Duncan

  Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not

  Those in commission yet return’d?

  Malcolm

  My liege,

  They are not yet come back. But I have spoke

  With one that saw him die: who did report

  That very frankly he confess’d his treasons,

  Implored your highness’ pardon and set forth

  A deep repentance: nothing in his life

  Became him like the leaving it; he died

  As one that had been studied in his death

  To throw away the dearest thing he owed,

  As ’twere a careless trifle.

  Duncan

  There’s no art

  To find the mind’s construction in the face:

  He was a gentleman on whom I built

  An absolute trust.

  Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Ross, and Angus

  O worthiest cousin!

  The sin of my ingratitude even now

  Was heavy on me: thou art so far before

  That swiftest wing of recompense is slow

  To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved,

  That the proportion both of thanks and payment

  Might have been mine! only I have left to say,

  More is thy due than more than all can pay.

&n
bsp; Macbeth

  The service and the loyalty I owe,

  In doing it, pays itself. Your highness’ part

  Is to receive our duties; and our duties

  Are to your throne and state children and servants,

  Which do but what they should, by doing every thing

  Safe toward your love and honour.

  Duncan

  Welcome hither:

  I have begun to plant thee, and will labour

  To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,

  That hast no less deserved, nor must be known

  No less to have done so, let me enfold thee

  And hold thee to my heart.

  Banquo

  There if I grow,

  The harvest is your own.

  Duncan

  My plenteous joys,

  Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves

  In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes,

  And you whose places are the nearest, know

  We will establish our estate upon

  Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter

  The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must

  Not unaccompanied invest him only,

  But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine

  On all deservers. From hence to Inverness,

  And bind us further to you.

  Macbeth

  The rest is labour, which is not used for you:

  I’ll be myself the harbinger and make joyful

  The hearing of my wife with your approach;

  So humbly take my leave.

  Duncan

  My worthy Cawdor!

  Macbeth

  [Aside] The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step

  On which I must fall down, or else o’erleap,

  For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires;

  Let not light see my black and deep desires:

  The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be,

  Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.

  Exit

  Duncan

  True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant,

  And in his commendations I am fed;

  It is a banquet to me. Let’s after him,

  Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:

  It is a peerless kinsman.

  Flourish. Exeunt

  SCENE V. INVERNESS. MACBETH’S CASTLE.

  Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter

  Lady Macbeth

  ‘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 themselves air, into which they vanished. Whiles I 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 me, 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 mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell.’

  Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be

  What thou art promised: 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,

  That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,

  And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou’ldst have, great Glamis,

  That which cries ‘Thus thou must do, if thou have it;

  And that which rather thou dost fear to do

  Than wishest should be undone.’ Hie thee hither,

  That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;

  And chastise with the valour of my tongue

  All that impedes thee from the golden round,

  Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem

  To have thee crown’d withal.

  Enter a Messenger

  What is your tidings?

  Messenger

  The king comes here to-night.

  Lady Macbeth

  Thou’rt mad to say it:

  Is not thy master with him? who, were’t so,

  Would have inform’d for preparation.

  Messenger

  So please you, it is true: our thane is coming:

  One of my fellows had the speed of him,

  Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more

  Than would make up his message.

  Lady Macbeth

  Give him tending;

  He brings great news.

  Exit Messenger

  The raven himself is hoarse

  That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan

  Under my battlements. Come, you spirits

  That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,

  And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full

  Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;

  Stop up the access and passage to remorse,

  That no compunctious visitings of nature

  Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between

  The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts,

  And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,

  Wherever in your sightless substances

  You wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night,

  And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,

  That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,

  Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,

  To cry ‘Hold, hold!’

  Enter Macbeth

  Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor!

  Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!

  Thy letters have transported me beyond

  This ignorant present, and I feel now

  The future in the instant.

  Macbeth

  My dearest love,

  Duncan comes here to-night.

  Lady Macbeth

  And when goes hence?

  Macbeth

  To-morrow, as he purposes.

  Lady Macbeth

  O, never

  Shall sun that morrow see!

  Your face, my thane, is as a book where men

  May read strange matters. To beguile the time,

  Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,

  Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,

  But be the serpent under’t. He that’s coming

  Must be provided for: and you shall put

  This night’s great business into my dispatch;

  Which shall to all our nights and days to come

  Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.

  Macbeth

  We will speak further.

  Lady Macbeth

  Only look up clear;

  To alter favour ever is to fear:

  Leave all the rest to me.

  Exeunt

  SCENE VI. BEFORE MACBETH’S CASTLE.

  Hautboys and torches. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lennox, Macduff, Ross, Angus, and Attendants

  Duncan

  This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air

  Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself

  Unto our gentle senses.

  Banquo

  This guest of summer,

  The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,

  By his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s breath

  Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,

  Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird

  Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:

  Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,

  The air is delicate.

  Enter Lady Macbeth

  Duncan

  See, see, our honour’d hostess!

  The love that follows us sometime is our trouble,

  Which still we thank as love. Herein I teac
h you

  How you shall bid God ’ild us for your pains,

  And thank us for your trouble.

  Lady Macbeth

  All our service

  In every point twice done and then done double

  Were poor and single business to contend

  Against those honours deep and broad wherewith

  Your majesty loads our house: for those of old,

  And the late dignities heap’d up to them,

  We rest your hermits.

  Duncan

  Where’s the thane of Cawdor?

  We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose

  To be his purveyor: but he rides well;

  And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him

  To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess,

  We are your guest to-night.

  Lady Macbeth

  Your servants ever

  Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt,

  To make their audit at your highness’ pleasure,

  Still to return your own.

  Duncan

  Give me your hand;

  Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly,

  And shall continue our graces towards him.

  By your leave, hostess.

  Exeunt

  SCENE VII. MACBETH’S CASTLE.

  Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers Servants with dishes and service, and pass over the stage. Then enter Macbeth

  Macbeth

  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’ld jump the life to come. But in these cases

  We still have judgment here; that we but teach

  Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return

  To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice

  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,

  Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan

  Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been

  So clear in his great office, that his virtues

  Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against

  The deep damnation of his taking-off;

  And pity, like a naked new-born babe,

  Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubim, horsed

  Upon the sightless couriers of the air,

  Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,

  That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur

  To prick the sides of my intent, but only

  Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself

 

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