Obrazy na stronie

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

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 ben

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!


Near Birnam wood

Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.

Cath. Who, knows, if Donalbain be with his


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.
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.

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Who then shall blame
His pester'd senses to recoil, and start,
When all that is within him does condemn
Itself, for being there?

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Well, march we on, To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd: Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely Meet we the medicin of the sickly weal: Charged. And with him pour we, in our country's purge, Each drop of us.

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

Doct. Well, well, well,

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Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam.

[Exeunt, marching.

SCENE III. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.

Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants.
Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all;
Till Birnamn 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
Enter a Servant.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon
Where got'st thou that goose look ?
Serv. There is ten thousand ·

Geese, villain?
Soldiers, sir.
Mach. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
Serv. The English force, so please you.
Macb. Take thy face hence.-Seyton !-I am sick
at heart,

When I behold-Seyton, I say! This push

Will cheer me ever, or disscat me now.

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


His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff. Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes 3 6

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

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Give me mine ar

Not so sick, my lord,

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Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, and his Son, MACDUFF, MENTETH, CATHNESS, ANGUS, LENOX, Rosse, and Soldiers, marching.

Mal. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand, That chambers will be safe. Ment.

We doubt it nothing. Siw. What wood is this before us? Ment.

The wood of Birnam. Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a bough, And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host, and make discovery Err in report of us.


It shall be done.

Saw. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant

SCENE V.. - Dunsinane.

Within the Castle.

Enter, with drums and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.

Macb. Hang out our banners on the outward walls;

The cry is still They come Our castie's strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine, and theague, eat them up.
Were they not forc'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 withun, 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.

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

I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

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[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 hear their staves; either thou, Macbeth,

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Despair thy charm; And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd, Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripp'd.

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Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow'd my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee. Macd. Then yield thee, coward, And live to be the show and gaze o'the time. We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted upon a pole; and underwrit, Here may you see the tyrant.

I'll not yield,

Macb. To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, And to be baited with the rabble's curse. Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born, Yet I will try the last: Before my body

I throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macduff; And damn'd be him that first cries, Hold, enough. [Exeunt, fighting.

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Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you. My thanes and

Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time, -
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.

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PRINCE HENRY, his son; afterwards King Henry III.
ARTHUR, Duke of Bretagne, son of Geffrey, late Duke
of Bretagne, the elder brother of King John.
WILLIAM MARESHALL, Earl of Pembroke.
GEFFREY FITZ-PETER, Earl of Essex, chief justiciary
of England.

WILLIAM LONGEWORD, Earl of Salisbury.
ROBERT BIGOT, Earl of Norfolk.

HUBERT DE BURGH, chamberlain to the King. ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE, son of sir Robert Faulconbridge.

PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE, his half-brother, bastard son to King Richard the First.

JAMES GURNEY, servant to Lady Faulconbridge.
PETER of Pomfret, a prophet.
PHILIP, King of France.

LEWIS, the Dauphin.

Cardinal PANDULPH, the Pope's igate.
MELUN, a French lord.

CHATILLON, ambassador from France to King John.

ELINOR, the widow of King Henry II., and mother of King John.

CONSTANCE, mother to Arthur.

BLANCH, daughter to Alphonso, King of Castile, and niece to King John.

Lady FAULCONBRIDGE, mother to the Bastard and Robert Faulconbridge.

Lords, Ladies, Citizens of Angiers, Sheriff, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants.

SCENE, sometimes in ENGLAND, and sometimes in FRANCE.

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King John. Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with us?

Chat. Thus, after greeting, speaks the king of

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


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 not 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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