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Macbeth

William Shakespeare · 1606 · the complete play, paired with StoryBites

Chapter 1 / 5

Act 1The Prophecy

Editorially reviewed · original meaning preserved

SCENE I. An open Place.

Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.

FIRST WITCH. When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

SECOND WITCH. When the hurlyburly’s done, When the battle’s lost and won.

SECOND WITCH. When the uproar is over, when the battle is lost and won.

THIRD WITCH. That will be ere the set of sun.

THIRD WITCH. That will be before the sun sets.

FIRST WITCH. Where the place?

FIRST WITCH. Where is the place?

SECOND WITCH. Upon the heath.

SECOND WITCH. On the heath.

THIRD WITCH. There to meet with Macbeth.

FIRST WITCH. I come, Graymalkin!

FIRST WITCH. I'm coming, Graymalkin!

SECOND WITCH. Paddock calls.

SECOND WITCH. Paddock is calling.

THIRD WITCH. Anon.

THIRD WITCH. Right away.

ALL. Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air.

ALL. Fair is foul, and foul is fair: hover through the fog and filthy air.

[_Exeunt._]

[_They exit._]

SCENE II. A Camp near Forres.

Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain.

An alarm sounds offstage. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain.

DUNCAN. What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state.

DUNCAN. Who is that bloody man? By the look of his wounds, he can report the latest news of the revolt.

MALCOLM. This is the sergeant Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought ’Gainst my captivity.—Hail, brave friend! Say to the King the knowledge of the broil As thou didst leave it.

MALCOLM. This is the sergeant who fought like a good and brave soldier to keep me from being captured. Hail, brave friend! Tell the King what you know of the fighting as it stood when you left it.

SOLDIER. Doubtful it stood; As two spent swimmers that do cling together And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald (Worthy to be a rebel, for to that The multiplying villainies of nature Do swarm upon him) from the Western Isles Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; And Fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, Show’d like a rebel’s whore. But all’s too weak; For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name), Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish’d steel, Which smok’d with bloody execution, Like Valour’s minion, carv’d out his passage, Till he fac’d the slave; Which ne’er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, Till he unseam’d him from the nave to the chops, And fix’d his head upon our battlements.

SOLDIER. It hung in doubt, like two exhausted swimmers clinging together and choking off each other's skill. The merciless Macdonwald, a fitting rebel since every kind of vile trait swarms in him, was supplied from the Western Isles with foot soldiers and heavy-armed troops; and Fortune, smiling on his cursed cause, looked like a rebel's whore. But it was all too weak, for brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name), scorning Fortune, with his drawn sword steaming with bloody slaughter, like Valour's favorite, carved his way through until he faced the villain; and he never shook his hand or said goodbye until he had split him open from the navel to the jaws and fixed his head upon our battlements.

DUNCAN. O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!

DUNCAN. Oh valiant cousin! Worthy gentleman!

SOLDIER. As whence the sun ’gins his reflection Shipwracking storms and direful thunders break, So from that spring, whence comfort seem’d to come Discomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark: No sooner justice had, with valour arm’d, Compell’d these skipping kerns to trust their heels, But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, With furbish’d arms and new supplies of men, Began a fresh assault.

SOLDIER. Just as storms that wreck ships and dreadful thunder break out from the very place where the sun rises, so from that source which seemed to promise comfort came trouble instead. Take note, King of Scotland, take note: no sooner had justice, armed with valour, forced these nimble foot soldiers to flee, than the Norwegian lord, spotting his advantage, with polished weapons and fresh troops, launched a new attack.

DUNCAN. Dismay’d not this Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?

DUNCAN. Didn't this dismay our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?

SOLDIER. Yes; As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion. If I say sooth, I must report they were As cannons overcharg’d with double cracks; So they Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe: Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, Or memorize another Golgotha, I cannot tell— But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.

SOLDIER. Yes, as much as sparrows dismay eagles, or a hare dismays a lion. To tell the truth, I must report that they were like cannons loaded with double charges, so they struck at the foe with doubly redoubled blows. Whether they meant to bathe in steaming wounds, or to make the place a second Golgotha, I cannot say. But I grow faint; my gashes cry for help.

DUNCAN. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds: They smack of honour both.—Go, get him surgeons.

DUNCAN. Your words suit you as well as your wounds do; both speak of honour. Go, get him surgeons.

[_Exit Captain, attended._]

[_The Captain exits, helped by attendants._]

Enter Ross and Angus.

Who comes here?

MALCOLM. The worthy Thane of Ross.

LENNOX. What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look That seems to speak things strange.

LENNOX. What urgency shows in his eyes! That is how a man looks who is about to tell of strange things.

ROSS. God save the King!

DUNCAN. Whence cam’st thou, worthy thane?

DUNCAN. Where have you come from, worthy thane?

ROSS. From Fife, great King, Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky And fan our people cold. Norway himself, with terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyal traitor, The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict; Till that Bellona’s bridegroom, lapp’d in proof, Confronted him with self-comparisons, Point against point, rebellious arm ’gainst arm, Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude, The victory fell on us.

ROSS. From Fife, great King, where the Norwegian banners mock the sky and chill our people with fear. Norway's king himself, with a terrible army, aided by that most disloyal traitor the Thane of Cawdor, began a grim battle; until Bellona's bridegroom, clad in tested armour, confronted him as an equal, blade against blade, rebellious arm against arm, curbing his wild spirit; and, to conclude, the victory fell to us.

DUNCAN. Great happiness!

ROSS. That now Sweno, the Norways’ king, craves composition; Nor would we deign him burial of his men Till he disbursed at Saint Colme’s Inch Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

ROSS. So that now Sweno, the Norwegians' king, begs for terms of peace; and we would not even allow him to bury his men until he paid ten thousand dollars at Saint Colme's Inch for our general use.

DUNCAN. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth.

DUNCAN. That Thane of Cawdor shall no longer betray my deepest interests. Go, pronounce his immediate death, and greet Macbeth with his former title.

ROSS. I’ll see it done.

ROSS. I'll see it done.

DUNCAN. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won.

DUNCAN. What Cawdor has lost, noble Macbeth has won.

[_Exeunt._]

[_They exit._]

SCENE III. A heath.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

FIRST WITCH. Where hast thou been, sister?

FIRST WITCH. Where have you been, sister?

SECOND WITCH. Killing swine.

SECOND WITCH. Killing pigs.

THIRD WITCH. Sister, where thou?

THIRD WITCH. And you, sister, where?

FIRST WITCH. A sailor’s wife had chestnuts in her lap, And mounch’d, and mounch’d, and mounch’d. “Give me,” quoth I. “Aroint thee, witch!” the rump-fed ronyon cries. Her husband’s to Aleppo gone, master o’ th’ _Tiger:_ But in a sieve I’ll thither sail, And, like a rat without a tail, I’ll do, I’ll do, and I’ll do.

FIRST WITCH. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap, and munched, and munched, and munched. "Give me some," I said. "Get away, witch!" cried the fat-fed slut. Her husband has gone to Aleppo, master of the Tiger; but in a sieve I'll sail there, and, like a rat without a tail, I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.

SECOND WITCH. I’ll give thee a wind.

SECOND WITCH. I'll give you a wind.

FIRST WITCH. Th’art kind.

FIRST WITCH. You're kind.

THIRD WITCH. And I another.

THIRD WITCH. And I'll give you another.

FIRST WITCH. I myself have all the other, And the very ports they blow, All the quarters that they know I’ the shipman’s card. I will drain him dry as hay: Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his pent-house lid; He shall live a man forbid. Weary sev’n-nights nine times nine, Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine: Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tost. Look what I have.

FIRST WITCH. I have all the other winds myself, and the very ports they blow toward, all the compass points they know on the sailor's chart. I will drain him dry as hay: sleep shall hang on his eyelids neither night nor day; he shall live as a man cursed. For nine times nine weary weeks he shall waste away, grow gaunt, and pine; and though his ship cannot be lost, still it shall be tossed by storms. Look what I have.

SECOND WITCH. Show me, show me.

FIRST WITCH. Here I have a pilot’s thumb, Wrack’d as homeward he did come.

FIRST WITCH. Here I have a pilot's thumb, wrecked as he was heading home.

[_Drum within._]

[_A drum sounds offstage._]

THIRD WITCH. A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come.

THIRD WITCH. A drum, a drum! Macbeth is coming.

ALL. The Weird Sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about: Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, And thrice again, to make up nine. Peace!—the charm’s wound up.

ALL. The Weird Sisters, hand in hand, swift travelers over sea and land, go round about like this: three times to yours, and three times to mine, and three times again, to make up nine. Peace! The charm is wound up and ready.

Enter Macbeth and Banquo.

MACBETH. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

MACBETH. I have never seen a day so foul and so fair at once.

BANQUO. How far is’t call’d to Forres?—What are these, So wither’d, and so wild in their attire, That look not like the inhabitants o’ th’ earth, And yet are on’t?—Live you? or are you aught That man may question? You seem to understand me, By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips. You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so.

BANQUO. How far is it, they say, to Forres? What are these creatures, so withered and so wild in their clothing, that they don't look like inhabitants of the earth, and yet are on it? Are you alive? Are you anything a man may question? You seem to understand me, since each of you lays a chapped finger to her withered lips. You must be women, and yet your beards keep me from believing you are.

MACBETH. Speak, if you can;—what are you?

MACBETH. Speak, if you can. What are you?

FIRST WITCH. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!

FIRST WITCH. All hail, Macbeth! Hail to you, Thane of Glamis!

SECOND WITCH. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!

SECOND WITCH. All hail, Macbeth! Hail to you, Thane of Cawdor!

THIRD WITCH. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter!

THIRD WITCH. All hail, Macbeth, who shall be king hereafter!

BANQUO. Good sir, why do you start and seem to fear Things that do sound so fair?—I’ th’ name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace and great prediction Of noble having and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal. To me you speak not. 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.

BANQUO. Good sir, why do you flinch, and seem to fear things that sound so promising? In the name of truth, are you illusions, or truly what you outwardly appear to be? You greet my noble companion with his present rank and a great prophecy of noble fortune and royal hope, so that he seems entranced by it. To me you say nothing. If you can look into the seeds of time and say which will grow and which will not, then speak to me, who neither begs nor fears your favours or your hatred.

FIRST WITCH. Hail!

SECOND WITCH. Hail!

THIRD WITCH. Hail!

FIRST WITCH. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.

SECOND WITCH. Not so happy, yet much happier.

SECOND WITCH. Not so fortunate, yet much happier.

THIRD WITCH. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none: So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!

THIRD WITCH. You shall father kings, though you shall be none yourself. 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.

MACBETH. Stay, you unfinished speakers, tell me more. By Sinel's death I know I am Thane of Glamis; but how can I be Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor is alive, a prosperous gentleman; and to be king is beyond belief, no more possible than to be Cawdor. Say, where do you get this strange knowledge? Or why do you stop us on this blasted heath with such prophetic greetings? Speak, I command you.

[_Witches vanish._]

[_The Witches vanish._]

BANQUO. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them. Whither are they vanish’d?

BANQUO. The earth has bubbles, as the water does, and these were some of them. Where have they vanished to?

MACBETH. Into the air; and what seem’d corporal, Melted as breath into the wind. Would they had stay’d!

MACBETH. Into the air; and what seemed solid melted away like breath into the wind. I wish they had stayed!

BANQUO. Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner?

BANQUO. Were such things really here that we are speaking of? Or have we eaten the maddening 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?

MACBETH. And Thane of Cawdor too; wasn't that how it went?

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

BANQUO. To that very tune and those very words. Who's here?

Enter Ross and Angus.

ROSS. The King hath happily receiv’d, 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: silenc’d with that, In viewing o’er the rest o’ th’ selfsame day, He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, Strange images of death. As thick as tale Came post with post; and everyone did bear Thy praises in his kingdom’s great defence, And pour’d them down before him.

ROSS. The King has happily received the news of your success, Macbeth; and when he reads of your personal daring in the fight against the rebels, his wonder and his praise struggle over which should be greater. Struck silent by that, in reviewing the rest of that same day, he finds you among the tough Norwegian ranks, unafraid of the images of death that you yourself were making. Messengers came thick as a running tally, one after another, and every one brought your praises in his kingdom's great defence, and poured them out before him.

ANGUS. We are sent To give thee from our royal master thanks; Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee.

ANGUS. We are sent to give you thanks from our royal master, only to bring you into his presence, not to reward you yet.

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.

ROSS. And, as a down payment on a greater honour, he told me to call you Thane of Cawdor from him. So, by that added title, hail, most worthy thane! For it is yours.

BANQUO. What, can the devil speak true?

BANQUO. What, can the devil speak the truth?

MACBETH. The Thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me In borrow’d robes?

MACBETH. The Thane of Cawdor is alive. Why do you dress me in borrowed robes?

ANGUS. Who was the Thane lives yet, But under heavy judgement bears that life Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin’d 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 wrack, I know not; But treasons capital, confess’d and prov’d, Have overthrown him.

ANGUS. The man who was Thane still lives, but under a heavy sentence he bears a life he deserves to lose. Whether he was allied with Norway, or secretly backed the rebel with hidden aid and advantage, or worked with both to ruin his country, I do not know; but treasons deserving death, confessed and proven, 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 Promis’d no less to them?

MACBETH. [_Aside._] Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor: the greatest is still to come. [_To Ross and Angus._] Thank you for your trouble. [_To Banquo._] Don't you hope your children shall be kings, since those who gave me the title of Cawdor 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.

BANQUO. Taken to heart, that prophecy might yet kindle in you a hope of the crown as well as the thaneship of Cawdor. But it is strange: often, to lead us to our ruin, the agents of darkness tell us truths; they win us with honest trifles, only to betray us in matters of deepest consequence. Cousins, a word with you, please.

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.

MACBETH. [_Aside._] Two truths are told, like promising prologues to the swelling drama of the royal theme. I thank you, gentlemen. [_Aside._] This supernatural prompting cannot be evil, cannot be good. If evil, why has it given me a pledge of success, beginning with a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. If good, why do I give in to that suggestion whose horrid image makes my hair stand on end and makes my steady heart pound at my ribs, against all nature? Present terrors are less frightening than horrible imaginings. My thought, whose murder is still only a fantasy, so shakes my whole being as a man that all my faculties are smothered in speculation, and nothing exists for me but what does not yet exist.

BANQUO. Look, how our partner’s rapt.

BANQUO. Look how our partner is entranced.

MACBETH. [_Aside._] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me Without my stir.

MACBETH. [_Aside._] If chance will have me king, then chance may crown me without my lifting a finger.

BANQUO. New honours come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use.

BANQUO. New honours settle on him like unfamiliar garments, which don't fit their wearer until worn a while.

MACBETH. [_Aside._] Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

MACBETH. [_Aside._] Come what may, time and the hour run through the roughest day.

BANQUO. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

BANQUO. Worthy Macbeth, we're waiting on your pleasure.

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 chanc’d; and at more time, The interim having weigh’d it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other.

MACBETH. Forgive me. My dull brain was busy with things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your efforts are recorded where I turn the page each day to read them. Let us go to the King. Think about what has happened; and when we have more time, once we have weighed it, let us speak our minds freely to each other.

BANQUO. Very gladly.

MACBETH. Till then, enough.—Come, friends.

MACBETH. Until then, enough. Come, friends.

[_Exeunt._]

[_They exit._]

SCENE IV. Forres. A Room in the Palace.

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

A trumpet flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox and Attendants.

DUNCAN. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet return’d?

DUNCAN. Has Cawdor been executed? Haven't those with the commission returned yet?

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, Implor’d 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 ow’d As ’twere a careless trifle.

MALCOLM. My lord, they have not come back yet. But I have spoken with one who saw him die, who reported that he very frankly confessed his treasons, begged your Highness's pardon, and showed deep repentance. Nothing in his life became him so well as the leaving of it; he died like one who had rehearsed his death, throwing away the dearest thing he owned as though it were a worthless 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.

DUNCAN. There is no art to read the mind's makeup in the face. He was a gentleman on whom I had 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 deserv’d; 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.

Oh worthiest cousin! Just now the sin of my ingratitude weighed heavily on me. You are so far ahead that even the swiftest wing of reward is too slow to overtake you. I wish you had deserved less, so that the balance of thanks and payment might have been within my power! I can only say this: you are owed more than everything I have can pay.

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 everything Safe toward your love and honour.

MACBETH. The service and loyalty I owe pay for themselves in the doing. Your Highness's part is to receive our duties; and our duties are, toward your throne and state, like children and servants, doing only what they should by doing everything to secure 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 deserv’d, nor must be known No less to have done so, let me infold thee And hold thee to my heart.

DUNCAN. Welcome here. I have begun to plant you, and I will work to make you flourish. Noble Banquo, you have deserved no less, and it must be known that you have done no less; let me embrace you and hold you to my heart.

BANQUO. There if I grow, The harvest is your own.

BANQUO. If I grow there, 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.

DUNCAN. My abundant joys, so full they run wild, try to hide themselves in tears of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes, and you whose ranks are nearest, know this: we will settle our succession upon our eldest, Malcolm, whom we now name the Prince of Cumberland. But that honour must not clothe him alone; signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine on all who deserve them. From here we go to Inverness, and bind ourselves still more to you.

MACBETH. The rest is labour, which is not us’d for you: I’ll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful The hearing of my wife with your approach; So, humbly take my leave.

MACBETH. Any rest not spent in your service is toil. I'll go ahead as messenger myself, and make my wife joyful with the news of your coming. So, humbly I 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.

MACBETH. [_Aside._] The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step I must either fall down at, or leap over, for it lies in my way. Stars, hide your fires! Let not light see my black and deep desires. Let the eye look away from the hand; yet let that thing be done which, once done, the eye is afraid to see.

[_Exit._]

[_He exits._]

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.

DUNCAN. True, worthy Banquo! He is indeed that valiant, and I am nourished by praise of him. It is a feast to me. Let us follow him, whose care has gone ahead to welcome us. He is a peerless kinsman.

[_Flourish. Exeunt._]

[_A trumpet flourish. They exit._]

SCENE V. Inverness. A Room in Macbeth’s Castle.

SCENE V. Inverness. A Room in 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 perfect’st 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 might’st not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promis’d thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell.”

LADY MACBETH. "They met me on the day of victory; and I have learned by the most reliable report that they have more in them than human knowledge. When I burned with desire to question them further, they turned themselves into air and vanished into it. While I stood entranced by the wonder of it, messengers came from the King, who all hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor,' the very title by which these Weird Sisters had earlier saluted me, before referring me to the future with 'Hail, king that shall be!' This I thought good to tell you, my dearest partner in greatness, so that you might not lose your share of rejoicing by being ignorant of what greatness is promised to you. Lay it to your heart, and farewell."

Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promis’d. Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ th’ 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’dst 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.

You are Thane of Glamis and of Cawdor, and you shall be what you are promised. Yet I fear your nature; it is too full of the milk of human kindness to seize the quickest way. You would be great; you are not without ambition, but you lack the wickedness that should go with it. What you want, you want virtuously; you would not cheat, and yet you would win wrongly. You would have, great Glamis, the crown that cries, "This you must do if you would have it"; and that deed is one you are more afraid to do than you would wish undone. Hurry here, so that I may pour my spirit into your ear, and with the courage of my tongue drive away everything that keeps you from the golden crown which fate and supernatural aid seem to have destined for you.

Enter a Messenger.

What is your tidings?

What is your news?

MESSENGER. The King comes here tonight.

LADY MACBETH. Thou’rt mad to say it. Is not thy master with him? who, were’t so, Would have inform’d for preparation.

LADY MACBETH. You're mad to say it. Isn't your master with him? If it were so, he would have sent word so we could prepare.

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.

MESSENGER. If you please, it's true. Our thane is coming. One of my fellows outran him, and, almost dead for breath, had scarcely enough strength left to deliver his message.

LADY MACBETH. Give him tending. He brings great news.

LADY MACBETH. See that he is looked after. He brings great news.

[_Exit Messenger._]

[_The Messenger exits._]

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 th’ access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between Th’ effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts, And take my milk for gall, your murd’ring 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!”

Even the raven is hoarse from croaking the fatal entrance of Duncan under my battlements. Come, you spirits that attend on murderous thoughts, unsex me here, and fill me from the crown of my head to my toes, brimful of the direst cruelty! Thicken my blood, block up all access and passage to remorse, so that no natural pangs of conscience shake my fierce purpose, or come between it and its execution. Come to my woman's breasts and take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, wherever in your invisible forms you wait upon nature's evil! Come, thick night, and wrap yourself in the darkest smoke of hell, so that my keen knife may not see the wound it makes, nor heaven peer through the blanket of the dark to cry, "Stop, stop!"

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.

Great Glamis, worthy Cawdor! Greater than both by the promised hail hereafter! Your letters have carried me beyond this ignorant present, and I feel now the future in this very moment.

MACBETH. My dearest love, Duncan comes here tonight.

LADY MACBETH. And when goes hence?

LADY MACBETH. And when does he leave?

MACBETH. Tomorrow, as he purposes.

MACBETH. Tomorrow, as he intends.

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.

LADY MACBETH. Oh, never shall the sun see that tomorrow! Your face, my thane, is like a book where men may read strange matters. To deceive the world, look like the world expects; carry welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it. The one who is coming must be provided for; and you shall put this night's great business into my hands, which shall give all our future nights and days sole and sovereign power and command.

MACBETH. We will speak further.

MACBETH. We will talk further.

LADY MACBETH. Only look up clear; To alter favour ever is to fear. Leave all the rest to me.

LADY MACBETH. Only keep a clear look on your face; to change your expression is always to betray fear. Leave all the rest to me.

[_Exeunt._]

[_They exit._]

SCENE VI. The same. Before the Castle.

Hautboys. Servants of Macbeth attending.

Oboes. Servants of Macbeth attending.

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.

DUNCAN. This castle has a pleasant setting. The air gently and sweetly recommends itself to our calm 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 pendant bed and procreant cradle. Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ’d The air is delicate.

BANQUO. This summer visitor, the martlet that nests in churches, proves by its beloved nesting here that heaven's breath smells inviting. There is no jutting ledge, frieze, buttress, or convenient corner where this bird has not made its hanging bed and breeding cradle. Where they breed and gather most, 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 teach you How you shall bid God ’ild us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble.

DUNCAN. See, see, our honoured hostess! The love that follows us sometimes becomes our trouble, which we still thank as love. In this I teach you to pray God reward us for your pains, and to 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.

LADY MACBETH. All our service, done twice over in every point, and then doubled again, would be poor and slight compared to those broad and deep honours with which your Majesty enriches our house. For our old titles, and the recent dignities heaped upon them, we remain your devoted servants, praying for you.

DUNCAN. Where’s the Thane of Cawdor? We cours’d 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 tonight.

DUNCAN. Where is the Thane of Cawdor? We chased at his heels, meaning to be his advance man; but he rides well, and his great love, sharp as his spur, has helped him reach home before us. Fair and noble hostess, we are your guests tonight.

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.

LADY MACBETH. Your servants always hold their household, themselves, and all they own as if in trust, ready to render their account at your Highness's pleasure, always returning what is 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.

DUNCAN. Give me your hand; lead me to my host. We love him dearly, and shall continue our favours toward him. By your leave, hostess.

[_Exeunt._]

[_They exit._]

SCENE VII. The same. A Lobby in the Castle.

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

Oboes and torches. A head servant and various servants enter and cross the stage with dishes and utensils. Then enter Macbeth.

MACBETH. If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well It were done quickly. If th’ 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’d jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgement here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which being taught, return To plague th’ inventor. This even-handed justice Commends th’ ingredience 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 cherubin, hors’d 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 And falls on th’ other—

MACBETH. If it were finished once it is done, then it would be well to do it quickly. If the assassination could snare up all its consequences and catch success with Duncan's death, so that this one blow might be the whole of it and the end of it, here, right here, on this shoal in the sea of time, we would risk the life to come. But in such cases we still face judgement here; for we merely teach bloody lessons that, once taught, come back to plague the teacher. This even-handed justice offers the ingredients of our poisoned cup to our own lips. He is here in double trust: first, as I am his kinsman and his subject, both strong reasons against the deed; then, as his host, who should shut the door against his murderer, not carry the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan has used his powers so meekly, has been so pure in his high office, that his virtues will plead like angels, with trumpet tongues, against the deep damnation of his murder; and pity, like a naked newborn babe striding the wind, or heaven's cherubim mounted on the invisible messengers of the air, shall blow the horrid deed into every eye, until tears drown the wind. I have no spur to prick the sides of my purpose, only vaulting ambition, which overleaps itself and falls on the other side.

Enter Lady Macbeth.

How now! what news?

How now! What news?

LADY MACBETH. He has almost supp’d. Why have you left the chamber?

LADY MACBETH. He has almost finished supper. Why did you leave the room?

MACBETH. Hath he ask’d for me?

MACBETH. Has he asked for me?

LADY MACBETH. Know you not he has?

LADY MACBETH. Don't you know he has?

MACBETH. We will proceed no further in this business: He hath honour’d me of late; and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon.

MACBETH. We will go no further in this business. He has honoured me lately; and I have won golden opinions from all sorts of people, which should be worn now in their newest shine, not cast aside so soon.

LADY MACBETH. Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress’d yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,” Like the poor cat i’ th’ adage?

LADY MACBETH. Was the hope you dressed yourself in drunk? Has it slept since? And does it wake now, to look so sickly and pale at what it did so willingly? From now on I count your love as no better. Are you afraid to be the same man in your actions and courage as you are in your desire? Would you have the crown you value as the ornament of life, and live a coward in your own esteem, letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would," like the poor cat in the old proverb?

MACBETH. Pr’ythee, peace! I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none.

MACBETH. Please, quiet! I dare do everything that befits a man; whoever dares do more is not one.

LADY MACBETH. What beast was’t, then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck’d my nipple from his boneless gums And dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.

LADY MACBETH. What beast was it, then, that made you tell me of this plan? When you dared to do it, then you were a man; and to be more than you were, you would be so much more the man. Neither the time nor the place was right then, and yet you would have made both; now they have made themselves, and that very readiness undoes you. I have nursed a baby, and know how tender it is to love the child that feeds at my breast; yet, while it was smiling in my face, I would have plucked my nipple from its toothless gums and dashed its brains out, had I sworn to do so as you have sworn to this.

MACBETH. If we should fail?

MACBETH. What if we should fail?

LADY MACBETH. We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep (Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journey Soundly invite him), his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lie as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon Th’ unguarded Duncan? what not put upon His spongy officers; who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell?

LADY MACBETH. We fail? Just screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep (which his hard day's journey will readily invite), I will so overcome his two chamberlains with wine and revelry that memory, the guardian of the brain, shall be turned to smoke, and the seat of reason a mere distilling flask. When in a swinish sleep their drunken bodies lie as if dead, what can you and I not do to the unguarded Duncan? And what may we not lay upon his sodden officers, who shall bear the guilt of our great murder?

MACBETH. Bring forth men-children only; For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv’d, When we have mark’d with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber, and us’d their very daggers, That they have done’t?

MACBETH. Bring forth only male children; for your undaunted spirit should create nothing but males. Won't it be believed, when we have marked those two sleeping men of his own chamber with blood, and used their very daggers, that they have done it?

LADY MACBETH. Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar Upon his death?

LADY MACBETH. Who would dare believe otherwise, when we make our grief and outcry roar over his death?

MACBETH. I am settled, and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

MACBETH. I am resolved, and strain every part of my body to this terrible feat. Come, and deceive the world with the fairest show: the false face must hide what the false heart knows.

[_Exeunt._]

[_They exit._]

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Text: Project Gutenberg (public domain). This work is in the public domain — William Shakespeare’s original text, with Project Gutenberg license boilerplate removed.