Macbeth Page #4

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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 poison,

malice domestic, foreign levy,

nothing can touch him further.

Attend those men our pleasure?

They are, my lord, without the palace gate.

Bring them before us.

Was it not yesterday we spoke together?

It was, so please your highness.

Well then, now have you consider'd of my speeches?

Know that it was he in the times past

which held you so under fortune,

which you thought had been our innocent self.

You made it known to us.

Do you find your patience so predominant

in your nature that you can let this go?

Are you so gospell'd to pray for this good man

and for his issue,

whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave

and beggar'd yours for ever?

We are men, my liege.

Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men;

as hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,

shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves

are clept all by the name of dogs.

But if you have a station in the file,

not i' the worst rank of manhood.

Say 't!

I am one, my liege,

whom the vile blows and buffets of the world

have so incensed

that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.

And I another

Both of you know Banquo was your enemy.

True, my lord.

So is he mine.

and in such bloody distance that every minute of

his being thrusts against my near'st of life.

We shall, my lord, perform what you command us.

Your spirits shine through you.

Within this hour at most I will advise you

where to plant yourselves;

Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time,

the moment on't

for't must be done to-night, and

something from the castle

Always thought that I require a clearness:

and with him to leave no rubs nor botches in the work

Fleance his son, that keeps him company,

whose absence is no less material to me

than is his father's

Must embrace the fate of that dark hour.

Resolve yourselves apart:

I'll come to you anon.

We are resolved, my lord.

It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight,

if it find heaven, must find it out to-night.

Gentle, my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks.

Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night.

O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!

Yet 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 done a deed of dreadful note.

What's to be done?

Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,

till thou applaud the deed.

Come, seeling night,

scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;

And with thy bloody and invisible hand

cancel and tear to pieces

that great bond which keeps me pale!

Light thickens; and the crow makes

wing to the rooky wood.

Good things of day begin to droop and drowse,

while night's black agents to their preys do rouse.

The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:

Now spurs the lated traveller apace to gain the timely inn;

and near approaches the subject of our watch.

/Hark!

Then 'tis he.

/Stand to't.

It will be rain to-night.

Let it come down.

Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly!

The son is fled.

We have lost best half of our affair.

Well, let's away, and say how much is done.

There's blood on thy face.

'Tis Banquo's then.

Is he dispatch'd?

My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.

Thou art the best o' the cut-throats:

yet he's good that did the like for Fleance

Most royal sir, Fleance is 'scaped.

Then comes my fit again

I had else been perfect, whole as the marble,

founded as the rock,

as broad and general as the casing air:

But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined,

bound in to saucy doubts and fears.

But Banquo's safe?

Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,

with twenty trenched gashes on his head,

the least a death to nature.

Thanks for that.

Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all; all,

as the weird women promised.

And, I fear, thou play'dst most foully for't.

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.

Is't far you ride?

As far, my lord, as will fill up the time

'twixt this and supper

Fail not our feast.

My lord, I will not.

I will not.

I will not.

I will not.

I will not fail your feast.

You know your own degrees

Sit down.

And first and last the hearty welcome.

Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,

Were the graced person of our Banquo present;

His absence, sir, lays blame upon his promise.

My royal lord, you do not give the cheer.

Sweet remembrancer!

I drink to our good friend Banquo

whom we miss!

Would he were here!

Which of you have done this?

What is't that moves your highness?

Thou canst not say I did it;

Never shake thy gory locks at me.

Gentlemen, rise. His highness is not well.

Sit, worthy friends.

My lord is often thus, and hath been from his youth.

Look!

Lo!

How say you?

Think of this, good peers, but as a thing of custom:

'tis no other.

Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.

Shame itself!

Why do you make such faces?

When all's done, you look but on a stool.

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

which thou dost glare with!

The fit is momentary;

upon a thought he will again be well.

What man dare, I dare:

Approach thou like the rugged Russian 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 inhabit then,

protest me the baby of a girl.

Hence, horrible shadow!

This is the very painting of your fear.

This is the air-drawn dagger

which, you said, led you to Duncan.

Duncan!

Why, what care I?

If thou canst nod, speak too.

If charnel-houses and our graves must

send those that we bury back,

our monuments shall be the maws of kites.

Fie, for shame!

Blood hath been shed ere now,

i' the olden time, ere human statute purged the gentle 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.

You make me strange even to

the disposition that I owe,

when now I think you can behold such sights,

and keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,

when mine is blanched with fear.

What sights, my lord?

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.

Good night; and better health attend his majesty!

A kind good night to all!

It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood.

Stones have been known to move and trees to speak.

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