The Plays of William Shakspeare, Accurately Printed from the Text of the Corrected Copies, Left by the Late George Steevens, and Edmond Malone, with a Sketch of His Life, and a Glossary. New Ed. Rev

Doct. What is it she does now? Look how she | Would, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm, rubs her hands.

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

Lady M. Yet here's a spot.

Doct. Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.

Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say! One; Two: Why, then 'tis time to do't:

Hell is murky! - Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier, and afeard? 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 so much blood in him?

Doct. Do you mark that?

Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; Where is she now? - What, will these hands ne'er be clean? - No more o'that, my lord, no more o'that: you mar all with this starting Sheer

Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you

should not.

Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known.

Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh!

Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely Charged.

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

Doct. Well, well, well,

Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir.

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds.

Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale. - I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his

grave.

Doct. Even so?

Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at
the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your
hand; What's done, cannot be undone; To bed,
to bed, to bed,
[Exit Lady MАСВЕТН.

Doct. Will she go now to bed?
Gent. Directly.

Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural

deeds

Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she 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 sight:
I think, but dare not speak.
Gent.

Good night, good doctor.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II. - The Country near Dunsinane. Enter, with drum and colours, MENTETH, CATHNESS, ANGUS, LENOX, and Soldiers.

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, sir, he is not: I have a file
Of all the gentry; there is Siward's son,
And many unrough youths, that even now
Protest their first of manhood.

Ment.

What does the tyrant?

Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies :
Some say he's mad; others, that lesser hate him,
Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Within the belt of rule.

Ang.

Now does he feel

SCENE III. - Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.

Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants.
Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all;
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
All mortal consequents pronounc'd me thus:
Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman,
Shall e'er have power on thee. Then fly, false thanes,
And mingle with the English epicures:
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear

at heart,

When I behold - Seyton, I say! - This push
Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.

Ment. The English power is near, led on by I have liv'd long enough my way of life

Malcolm,
His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff.
Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes

Is faff'n into the sear, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,

Err in report of us.

Sold.

It shall be done.

noise ?

The cry is still, They come Our castie's strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine, and thougue, eat them up.
Were they not fore'd with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward nome
What is that
[A cry within, of women.
Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir
As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me. - Wherefore was that cry?

Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.
Macb. She should have died hereafter;

There would have been a time for such a word. -
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!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,

Sw. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant | Till famine cling thee

If thou speak'st false,

if thy speech be sooth,

I care not if thou dost for me as much. I pull in resolution; and begin

To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth: Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane; - and now a wood
Comes toward Dunsinane. -Arm, arm, and out!-
If this, which he avouches, does appear,

There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.

I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun,

And wish the estate o'the world were now undone. Ring the alarum bell:-Blow wind! come, wrack!

At least we'll die with harness on our back.

That keep the word of promise to our ear,

Macd. Then yield thee, coward,

Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee. Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do, Why, then, God's soldier be he! Which would be planted newly with the time,

name

Than any is in hell.

Macb.

My name's Macbeth.

Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword

I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

[They fight, and young SIWARD is slain. Macb. Thou wast born of woman. But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. [Exit.

Alarums. Enter MACDUFF.

Macd. That way the noise is: - Tyrant, show thy face:

If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine,
My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
I cannot strike at wretched kernes, whose arms
Are hir'd to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth,

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Siw

Had he his hurts before?

Rosse. Ay, on the front.

Siw.

Had I as many sons as I have hairs,

I would not wish them to a fairer death:

And so his knell is knoll'd.
Mal.

He's worth more sorrow,

As calling home our exil'd friends abroad,
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
Producing forth the cruel ministers

Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen ;
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life; - This, and what needful else
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
We will perform in measure, time, and place :
So thanks to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.

[Flourish. Ereun

Chat. Thus, after greeting, speaks the king of France,

In my behaviour, to the majesty,

The borrow'd majesty of England here.

Eli. A strange beginning; - borrow'd majesty! K. John. Silence, good mother; hear the embassy.

Chat. Philip of France, in right and true behalf Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim To this fair island, and the territories; To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine: Desiring thee to lay aside the sword. Which sways usurpingly these several titles; And put the same into young Arthur's hand, Thy nephew and right royal sovereign.

K. John. What follows, if we disallow of this? Chat. The proud controul of fierce and bloody war, To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld.

K. John. Here have we war for war, and blood for blood,

Controlment for controlment: so answer France.

Chat. Then take my king's defiance from my mouth,

The furthest limit of my embassy.

K. John. Bear mine to him, and so depart in

peace:

Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France;
For ere thou canst report I will be there,
The thunder of my cannon shall be heard:
So, hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath
And sullen presage of your own decay, -
An honourable conduct let him have: -
Pembroke, look to't: Farewell, Chatillon.

[Exeunt CHATILLON and PEMBROKE.

Eli. that now, my son? have I not ever said, How that ambitious Constance would mot cease, Till she had kindled France, and all the world, Upon the right and party of her son?

This might have been prevented, and made whole,
With very easy arguments of love;
Which now the manage of two kingdoms must
With fearful bloody issue arbitrate.

K. John. Our strong possession, and our right. for us.

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The Plays of William Shakspeare, Accurately Printed from the Text of the ...