Macbeth
Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
The housekeeper, the hunter, every one
According to the gift which bounteous nature
Hath in him clos’d; whereby he does receive
Particular addition, from the bill
That writes them all alike: and so of men.
Now, if you have a station in the file,
Not i’ th’ worst rank of manhood, say’t;
And I will put that business in your bosoms,
Whose execution takes your enemy off,
Grapples you to the heart and love of us,
Who wear our health but sickly in his life,
Which in his death were perfect.
SECOND MURDERER.
I am one, my liege,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
Hath so incens’d that I am reckless what
I do to spite the world.
FIRST MURDERER.
And I another,
So weary with disasters, tugg’d with fortune,
That I would set my life on any chance,
To mend it or be rid on’t.
MACBETH.
Both of you
Know Banquo was your enemy.
BOTH MURDERERS.
True, my lord.
MACBETH.
So is he mine; and in such bloody distance,
That every minute of his being thrusts
Against my near’st of life; and though I could
With barefac’d power sweep him from my sight,
And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not,
For certain friends that are both his and mine,
Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall
Who I myself struck down: and thence it is
That I to your assistance do make love,
Masking the business from the common eye
For sundry weighty reasons.
SECOND MURDERER.
We shall, my lord,
Perform what you command us.
FIRST MURDERER.
Though our lives—
MACBETH.
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’ th’ time,
The moment on’t; for’t must be done tonight
And something from the palace; 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.
BOTH MURDERERS.
We are resolv’d, my lord.
MACBETH.
I’ll call upon you straight: abide within.
[_Exeunt Murderers._]
It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul’s flight,
If it find heaven, must find it out tonight.
[_Exit._]
SCENE II. The same. Another Room in the Palace.
Enter Lady Macbeth and a Servant.
LADY MACBETH.
Is Banquo gone from court?
SERVANT.
Ay, madam, but returns again tonight.
LADY MACBETH.
Say to the King, I would attend his leisure
For a few words.
SERVANT.
Madam, I will.
[_Exit._]
LADY MACBETH.
Naught’s had, all’s spent,
Where our desire is got without content:
’Tis safer to be that which we destroy,
Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
Enter Macbeth.
How now, my lord, why do you keep alone,
Of sorriest fancies your companions making,
Using those thoughts which should indeed have died
With them they think on? Things without all remedy
Should be without regard: what’s done is done.
MACBETH.
We have scorch’d the snake, not kill’d it.
She’ll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice
Remains in danger of her former tooth.
But let the frame of things disjoint,
Both the worlds suffer,
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep
In the affliction of these terrible dreams
That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
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.
LADY MACBETH.
Come on,
Gently my lord, sleek o’er your rugged looks;
Be bright and jovial among your guests tonight.
MACBETH.
So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you.
Let your remembrance apply to Banquo;
Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue:
Unsafe the while, that we
Must lave our honours in these flattering streams,
And make our faces vizards to our hearts,
Disguising what they are.
LADY MACBETH.
You must leave this.
MACBETH.
O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
Thou know’st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.
LADY MACBETH.
But in them nature’s copy’s not eterne.
MACBETH.
There’s comfort yet; they are assailable.
Then be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flown
His cloister’d flight, ere to black Hecate’s summons
The shard-born beetle, with his drowsy hums,
Hath rung night’s yawning peal, there shall be done
A deed of dreadful note.
LADY MACBETH.
What’s to be done?
MACBETH.
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 th’ rooky wood.
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse,
Whiles night’s black agents to their preys do rouse.
Thou marvell’st at my words: but hold thee still;
Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
So, pr’ythee, go with me.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE III. The same. A Park or Lawn, with a gate leading to the Palace.
Enter three Murderers.
FIRST MURDERER.
But who did bid thee join with us?
THIRD MURDERER.
Macbeth.
SECOND MURDERER.
He needs not our mistrust; since he delivers
Our offices and what we have to do
To the direction just.
FIRST MURDERER.
Then stand with us.
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.
THIRD MURDERER.
Hark! I hear horses.
BANQUO.
[_Within._] Give us a light there, ho!
SECOND MURDERER.
Then ’tis he; the rest
That are within the note of expectation
Already are i’ th’ court.
FIRST MURDERER.
His horses go about.
THIRD MURDERER.
Almost a mile; but he does usually,
So all men do, from hence to the palace gate
Make it their walk.
Enter Banquo and Fleance with a torch.
SECOND MURDERER.
A light, a light!
THIRD MURDERER.
’Tis he.
FIRST MURDERER.
Stand to’t.
BANQUO.
It will be rain tonight.
FIRST MURDERER.
Let it come down.
[_Assaults Banquo._]
BANQUO.
O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!
Thou mayst revenge—O slave!
[_Dies. Fleance escapes._]
THIRD MURDERER.
Who did strike out the light?
FIRST MURDERER.
Was’t not the way?
THIRD MURDERER.
There’s but one down: the son is fled.
SECOND MURDERER.
We have lost best half of our affair.
FIRST MURDERER.
Well, let’s away, and say how much is done.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE IV. The same. A Room of state in the Palace.
A banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Ross, Lennox, Lords
and Attendants.
MACBETH.
You know your own degrees, sit down. At first
And last the hearty welcome.
LORDS.
Thanks to your Majesty.
MACBETH.
Ourself will mingle with society,
And play the humble host.
Our hostess keeps her state; but, in best time,
We will require her welcome.
LADY MACBETH.
Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;
For my heart speaks they are welcome.
Enter first Murderer to the door.
MACBETH.
See, they encounter thee with their hearts’ thanks.
Both sides are even: here I’ll sit i’ th’ midst.
Be large in mirth; anon we’ll drink a measure
The table round. There’s blood upon thy face.
MURDERER.
’Tis Banquo’s then.
MACBETH.
’Tis better thee without than he within.
Is he dispatch’d?
MURDERER.
My lord, his throat is cut. That I did for him.
MACBETH.
Thou art the best o’ th’ cut-throats;
Yet he’s good that did the like for Fleance:
If thou didst it, thou art the nonpareil.
MURDERER.
Most royal sir,
Fleance is ’scap’d.
MACBETH.
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, confin’d, bound in
To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo’s safe?
MURDERER.
Ay, my good lord. Safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
The least a death to nature.
MACBETH.
Thanks for that.
There the grown serpent lies; the worm that’s fled
Hath nature that in time will venom breed,
No teeth for th’ present.—Get thee gone; tomorrow
We’ll hear, ourselves, again.
[_Exit Murderer._]
LADY MACBETH.
My royal lord,
You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold
That is not often vouch’d, while ’tis a-making,
’Tis given with welcome. To feed were best at home;
From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony;
Meeting were bare without it.
The Ghost of Banquo rises, and sits in Macbeth’s place.
MACBETH.
Sweet remembrancer!—
Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!
LENNOX.
May’t please your Highness sit.
MACBETH.
Here had we now our country’s honour roof’d,
Were the grac’d person of our Banquo present;
Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
Than pity for mischance!
ROSS.
His absence, sir,
Lays blame upon his promise. Please’t your Highness
To grace us with your royal company?
MACBETH.
The table’s full.
LENNOX.
Here is a place reserv’d, sir.
MACBETH.
Where?
LENNOX.
Here, my good lord. What is’t that moves your Highness?
MACBETH.
Which of you have done this?
LORDS.
What, my good lord?
MACBETH.
Thou canst not say I did it. Never shake
Thy gory locks at me.
ROSS.
Gentlemen, rise; his Highness is not well.
LADY MACBETH.
Sit, worthy friends. My lord is often thus,
And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat;
The fit is momentary; upon a thought
He will again be well. If much you note him,
You shall offend him, and extend his passion.
Feed, and regard him not.—Are you a man?
MACBETH.
Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
Which might appal the devil.
LADY MACBETH.
O proper stuff!
This is the very painting of your fear:
This is the air-drawn dagger which you said,
Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws, and starts
(Impostors to true fear), would well become
A woman’s story at a winter’s fire,
Authoris’d by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all’s done,
You look but on a stool.
MACBETH.
Pr’ythee, see there!
Behold! look! lo! how say you?
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.
[_Ghost disappears._]
LADY MACBETH.
What, quite unmann’d in folly?
MACBETH.
If I stand here, I saw him.
LADY MACBETH.
Fie, for shame!
MACBETH.
Blood hath been shed ere now, i’ th’ olden time,
Ere humane statute purg’d the gentle weal;
Ay, and since too, murders have been perform’d
Too terrible for the ear: the time has 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.
LADY MACBETH.
My worthy lord,
Your noble friends do lack you.
MACBETH.
I do forget.—
Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends.
I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing
To those that know me. Come, love and health to all;
Then I’ll sit down.—Give me some wine, fill full.—
I drink to the general joy o’ th’ whole table,
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss:
Would he were here.
Ghost rises again.
To all, and him, we thirst,
And all to all.
LORDS.
Our duties, and the pledge.
MACBETH.
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!
LADY MACBETH.
Think of this, good peers,
But as a thing of custom: ’tis no other,
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.
MACBETH.
What man dare, I dare: