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Macbeth

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

Chapter 2 / 5

Act 2The Bloody Dagger

Editorially reviewed · original meaning preserved

SCENE I. Inverness. Court within the Castle.

Enter Banquo and Fleance with a torch before him.

Enter Banquo and Fleance, with a torch carried before him.

BANQUO. How goes the night, boy?

BANQUO. How far into the night is it, boy?

FLEANCE. The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.

FLEANCE. The moon has set; I have not heard the clock strike.

BANQUO. And she goes down at twelve.

BANQUO. And she sets at twelve.

FLEANCE. I take’t, ’tis later, sir.

FLEANCE. I judge it is later than that, sir.

BANQUO. Hold, take my sword.—There’s husbandry in heaven; Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers, Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose!

BANQUO. Here, take my sword.—Heaven is being thrifty tonight; its candles are all put out. Take this too. A heavy drowsiness weighs on me like lead, and yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers, hold back in me the cursed thoughts that our nature yields to when we rest!

Enter Macbeth and a Servant with a torch.

Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch.

Give me my sword.—Who’s there?

Give me my sword.—Who is there?

MACBETH. A friend.

BANQUO. What, sir, not yet at rest? The King’s abed: He hath been in unusual pleasure and Sent forth great largess to your offices. This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the name of most kind hostess, and shut up In measureless content.

BANQUO. What, sir, not yet asleep? The King is in bed. He has been in unusually good spirits and sent generous gifts to your servants' quarters. He greets your wife with this diamond, calling her the kindest of hostesses, and has retired utterly content.

MACBETH. Being unprepar’d, Our will became the servant to defect, Which else should free have wrought.

MACBETH. Because we were unprepared, our wish to entertain him was hampered by shortcomings that otherwise would have had free rein.

BANQUO. All’s well. I dreamt last night of the three Weird Sisters: To you they have show’d some truth.

BANQUO. All is well. Last night I dreamt of the three Weird Sisters: to you they have shown some truth.

MACBETH. I think not of them: Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, We would spend it in some words upon that business, If you would grant the time.

MACBETH. I do not think about them. Yet, when we can find an hour to spare, we should spend it in a few words about that matter, if you would grant the time.

BANQUO. At your kind’st leisure.

BANQUO. Whenever it best suits you.

MACBETH. If you shall cleave to my consent, when ’tis, It shall make honour for you.

MACBETH. If you will hold with my cause when the time comes, it will bring you honor.

BANQUO. So I lose none In seeking to augment it, but still keep My bosom franchis’d, and allegiance clear, I shall be counsell’d.

BANQUO. So long as I lose none while trying to increase it, but keep my heart free and my loyalty clear, I will be open to counsel.

MACBETH. Good repose the while!

MACBETH. Rest well in the meantime!

BANQUO. Thanks, sir: the like to you.

BANQUO. Thank you, sir: the same to you.

[_Exeunt Banquo and Fleance._]

[Exeunt Banquo and Fleance.]

MACBETH. Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.

MACBETH. Go tell your mistress to strike the bell when my drink is ready. Then get yourself to bed.

[_Exit Servant._]

[Exit Servant.]

Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:— I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall’st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o’ the other senses, Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still; And on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood, Which was not so before.—There’s no such thing. It is the bloody business which informs Thus to mine eyes.—Now o’er the one half-world Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtain’d sleep. Witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate’s off’rings; and wither’d murder, Alarum’d by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl’s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin’s ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost.—Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.—Whiles I threat, he lives. Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.

MACBETH. Is this a dagger I see before me, its handle turned toward my hand? Come, let me grasp you.—I do not have you, and yet I see you still. Are you not, deadly vision, as real to the touch as to the sight? Or are you only a dagger of the mind, a false creation issuing from my fevered brain? I see you yet, as tangible in form as this one I now draw. You point me the way that I was going; and just such a weapon I meant to use. Either my eyes are fooled by my other senses, or else they are worth all the rest. I see you still, and on your blade and hilt drops of blood, which were not there before.—There is no such thing. It is the bloody deed before me that shapes this vision to my eyes.—Now, over one half of the world, nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse the sleep behind drawn curtains. Witchcraft performs its rites to pale Hecate; and withered murder, roused by his sentinel, the wolf, whose howl is his signal, moves with stealthy steps, like ravishing Tarquin, toward his target, gliding like a ghost.—You firm and solid earth, do not hear my steps, whichever way they walk, for fear your very stones may chatter of my whereabouts and break the fitting silence of this moment, which now suits the deed.—While I stand here threatening, he lives. Talk only cools the fever of action.

[_A bell rings._]

[A bell rings.]

I go, and it is done. The bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

MACBETH. I go, and it is done. The bell calls me. Do not hear it, Duncan, for it is a death knell that summons you to heaven or to hell.

[_Exit._]

[Exit.]

SCENE II. The same.

Enter Lady Macbeth.

LADY MACBETH. That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold: What hath quench’d them hath given me fire.—Hark!—Peace! It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern’st good night. He is about it. The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg’d their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die.

LADY MACBETH. What has made them drunk has made me bold; what has quenched them has set me on fire.—Listen!—Quiet! It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman who bids the sternest good night. He is doing it now. The doors are open, and the overfed grooms mock their duty with snores: I have drugged their bedtime drinks, so that death and nature struggle over them, whether they live or die.

MACBETH. [_Within._] Who’s there?—what, ho!

MACBETH. [Within.] Who is there?—what, ho!

LADY MACBETH. Alack! I am afraid they have awak’d, And ’tis not done. Th’ attempt and not the deed Confounds us.—Hark!—I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss ’em.—Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done’t.—My husband!

LADY MACBETH. Oh no! I am afraid they have woken, and it is not done. The attempt without the deed itself would destroy us.—Listen!—I laid their daggers ready; he could not have missed them.—Had the sleeping King not looked like my father, I would have done it myself.—My husband!

Enter Macbeth.

MACBETH. I have done the deed.—Didst thou not hear a noise?

MACBETH. I have done the deed.—Did you not hear a noise?

LADY MACBETH. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did not you speak?

LADY MACBETH. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did you not speak?

MACBETH. When?

LADY MACBETH. Now.

LADY MACBETH. Just now.

MACBETH. As I descended?

MACBETH. As I came down?

LADY MACBETH. Ay.

LADY MACBETH. Yes.

MACBETH. Hark!—Who lies i’ th’ second chamber?

MACBETH. Listen!—Who is sleeping in the second chamber?

LADY MACBETH. Donalbain.

MACBETH. This is a sorry sight.

[_Looking on his hands._]

[Looking on his hands.]

LADY MACBETH. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

LADY MACBETH. A foolish thought, to call it a sorry sight.

MACBETH. There’s one did laugh in’s sleep, and one cried, “Murder!” That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them. But they did say their prayers, and address’d them Again to sleep.

MACBETH. There was one who laughed in his sleep, and one who cried, "Murder!" so that they woke each other: I stood and heard them. But they said their prayers and settled themselves again to sleep.

LADY MACBETH. There are two lodg’d together.

LADY MACBETH. There are two lodged together in that room.

MACBETH. One cried, “God bless us!” and, “Amen,” the other, As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands. List’ning their fear, I could not say “Amen,” When they did say, “God bless us.”

MACBETH. One cried, "God bless us!" and the other, "Amen," as if they had seen me with these hangman's hands. Listening to their fear, I could not say "Amen" when they said, "God bless us."

LADY MACBETH. Consider it not so deeply.

LADY MACBETH. Do not dwell on it so deeply.

MACBETH. But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”? I had most need of blessing, and “Amen” Stuck in my throat.

MACBETH. But why could I not pronounce "Amen"? I had the greatest need of blessing, and "Amen" stuck in my throat.

LADY MACBETH. These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

LADY MACBETH. These deeds must not be brooded on this way; if they are, it will drive us mad.

MACBETH. Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep,”—the innocent sleep; Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care, The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, Chief nourisher in life’s feast.

MACBETH. I thought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep,"—the innocent sleep; sleep that unravels the tangled skein of care, the death of each day's life, the bath after hard labor, the balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, the chief nourisher in life's feast.

LADY MACBETH. What do you mean?

MACBETH. Still it cried, “Sleep no more!” to all the house: “Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more!”

MACBETH. Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" throughout the house: "Glamis has murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more!"

LADY MACBETH. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength to think So brainsickly of things. Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand.— Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there: go carry them, and smear The sleepy grooms with blood.

LADY MACBETH. Who was it that cried this way? Why, worthy thane, you weaken your noble strength by thinking so feverishly about things. Go get some water, and wash this filthy evidence from your hand.—Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must stay there: go carry them back, and smear the sleeping grooms with blood.

MACBETH. I’ll go no more: I am afraid to think what I have done; Look on’t again I dare not.

MACBETH. I will go no more: I am afraid to think what I have done; I dare not look on it again.

LADY MACBETH. Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures. ’Tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I’ll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt.

LADY MACBETH. Weak of will! Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead are no more than pictures. It is only childhood's eye that fears a painted devil. If he is bleeding, I will paint the faces of the grooms with it, for the guilt must seem to be theirs.

[_Exit. Knocking within._]

[Exit. Knocking within.]

MACBETH. Whence is that knocking? How is’t with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? Ha, they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.

MACBETH. Where is that knocking coming from? What is wrong with me, that every noise horrifies me? What hands are these? Ha, they pluck out my eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this hand of mine will rather turn the countless seas blood-red, making the green ocean one solid red.

Enter Lady Macbeth.

LADY MACBETH. My hands are of your color, but I shame To wear a heart so white. [_Knocking within._] I hear knocking At the south entry:—retire we to our chamber. A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended.—[_Knocking within._] Hark, more knocking. Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us And show us to be watchers. Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts.

LADY MACBETH. My hands are the same color as yours, but I would be ashamed to have a heart as pale and cowardly. [Knocking within.] I hear knocking at the south entry: let us withdraw to our chamber. A little water clears us of this deed: how easy it is then! Your firmness has deserted you.—[Knocking within.] Listen, more knocking. Put on your nightgown, in case we are called and shown to have been awake. Do not be so pitifully lost in your thoughts.

MACBETH. To know my deed, ’twere best not know myself. [_Knocking within._] Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!

MACBETH. Rather than face what I have done, I had best lose all awareness of myself. [Knocking within.] Wake Duncan with your knocking! I wish that you could!

[_Exeunt._]

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. The same.

Enter a Porter. Knocking within.

PORTER. Here’s a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell gate, he should have old turning the key. [_Knocking._] Knock, knock, knock. Who’s there, i’ th’ name of Belzebub? Here’s a farmer that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty: come in time; have napkins enow about you; here you’ll sweat for’t. [_Knocking._] Knock, knock! Who’s there, i’ th’ other devil’s name? Faith, here’s an equivocator, that could swear in both the scales against either scale, who committed treason enough for God’s sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come in, equivocator. [_Knocking._] Knock, knock, knock! Who’s there? Faith, here’s an English tailor come hither, for stealing out of a French hose: come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose. [_Knocking._] Knock, knock. Never at quiet! What are you?—But this place is too cold for hell. I’ll devil-porter it no further: I had thought to have let in some of all professions, that go the primrose way to th’ everlasting bonfire. [_Knocking._] Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.

PORTER. Here is a knocking indeed! If a man were the porter of hell's gate, he would have his fill of turning the key. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock. Who is there, in the name of Beelzebub? Here is a farmer who hanged himself in dread of a good harvest and low prices: come in good time; bring napkins enough, for here you will sweat for it. [Knocking.] Knock, knock! Who is there, in the other devil's name? By my faith, here is an equivocator who could swear on both sides against either side, who committed treason enough for God's sake, yet could not equivocate his way to heaven: oh, come in, equivocator. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock! Who is there? By my faith, here is an English tailor come here for stealing cloth out of French breeches: come in, tailor; here you can heat your pressing-iron. [Knocking.] Knock, knock. Never any quiet! What are you?—But this place is too cold for hell. I will play hell's porter no further: I had meant to let in some of every profession that takes the primrose path to the everlasting bonfire. [Knocking.] Coming, coming! I pray you, remember the porter.

[_Opens the gate._]

[Opens the gate.]

Enter Macduff and Lennox.

MACDUFF. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, That you do lie so late?

MACDUFF. Was it so late, friend, before you went to bed, that you now lie abed so late?

PORTER. Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock; and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.

PORTER. By my faith, sir, we were drinking till the second cockcrow; and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.

MACDUFF. What three things does drink especially provoke?

PORTER. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and giving him the lie, leaves him.

PORTER. Why, sir, a red nose, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it both provokes and unprovokes: it provokes the desire, but takes away the performance. Therefore too much drink may be called an equivocator with lechery: it makes him and mars him; it sets him on and takes him off; it persuades him and discourages him; makes him stand ready, and not stand ready; in short, it equivocates him into a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.

MACDUFF. I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.

MACDUFF. I believe drink gave you the lie last night.

PORTER. That it did, sir, i’ the very throat on me; but I requited him for his lie; and (I think) being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him.

PORTER. That it did, sir, right in my throat; but I paid him back for his lie; and, being too strong for him, I think, though he tripped up my legs at times, I still managed to throw him off.

MACDUFF. Is thy master stirring?

MACDUFF. Is your master up and about?

Enter Macbeth.

Our knocking has awak’d him; here he comes.

PORTER. Our knocking has awakened him; here he comes.

LENNOX. Good morrow, noble sir!

LENNOX. Good morning, noble sir!

MACBETH. Good morrow, both!

MACBETH. Good morning to you both!

MACDUFF. Is the King stirring, worthy thane?

MACDUFF. Is the King up and about, worthy thane?

MACBETH. Not yet.

MACDUFF. He did command me to call timely on him. I have almost slipp’d the hour.

MACDUFF. He commanded me to call on him early. I have almost let the hour slip by.

MACBETH. I’ll bring you to him.

MACBETH. I will take you to him.

MACDUFF. I know this is a joyful trouble to you; But yet ’tis one.

MACDUFF. I know this is a welcome trouble to you; but a trouble still.

MACBETH. The labour we delight in physics pain. This is the door.

MACBETH. The work we take pleasure in eases its own pain. This is the door.

MACDUFF. I’ll make so bold to call. For ’tis my limited service.

MACDUFF. I will be so bold as to call him, for that is the duty assigned to me.

[_Exit Macduff._]

[Exit Macduff.]

LENNOX. Goes the King hence today?

LENNOX. Does the King leave here today?

MACBETH. He does. He did appoint so.

MACBETH. He does. He arranged it so.

LENNOX. The night has been unruly: where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down and, as they say, Lamentings heard i’ th’ air, strange screams of death, And prophesying, with accents terrible, Of dire combustion and confus’d events, New hatch’d to the woeful time. The obscure bird Clamour’d the live-long night. Some say the earth Was feverous, and did shake.

LENNOX. The night has been wild: where we lay, our chimneys were blown down; and, so they say, wailings were heard in the air, strange screams of death, and prophecies uttered in terrible tones of dreadful upheaval and confused events newly hatched to this woeful time. The bird of darkness clamored all night long. Some say the earth was feverish and shook.

MACBETH. ’Twas a rough night.

MACBETH. It was a rough night.

LENNOX. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it.

LENNOX. My young memory can recall nothing to equal it.

Enter Macduff.

MACDUFF. O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart cannot conceive nor name thee!

MACDUFF. Oh horror, horror, horror! Neither tongue nor heart can conceive you or give you a name!

MACBETH, LENNOX. What’s the matter?

MACBETH, LENNOX. What is the matter?

MACDUFF. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord’s anointed temple, and stole thence The life o’ th’ building.

MACDUFF. Chaos has now made his masterpiece! Most sacrilegious murder has broken open the Lord's anointed temple, and stolen the life out of the building.

MACBETH. What is’t you say? the life?

MACBETH. What is it you say? the life?

LENNOX. Mean you his majesty?

LENNOX. Do you mean his majesty?

MACDUFF. Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me speak. See, and then speak yourselves.

MACDUFF. Go to the chamber, and destroy your sight with a new Gorgon. Do not ask me to speak. See for yourselves, and then speak.

[_Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox._]

[Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox.]

Awake, awake!— Ring the alarum bell.—Murder and treason! Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counterfeit, And look on death itself! Up, up, and see The great doom’s image. Malcolm! Banquo! As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites To countenance this horror!

MACDUFF. Awake, awake!—Ring the alarm bell.—Murder and treason! Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! Shake off this soft sleep, death's imitation, and look on death itself! Up, up, and see the very image of doomsday. Malcolm! Banquo! Rise up as from your graves, and walk like spirits to match this horror!

[_Alarum-bell rings._]

[Alarm-bell rings.]

Enter Lady Macbeth.

LADY MACBETH. What’s the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak!

LADY MACBETH. What is the matter, that such a hideous trumpet calls the sleepers of the house to assemble? Speak, speak!

MACDUFF. O gentle lady, ’Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: The repetition, in a woman’s ear, Would murder as it fell.

MACDUFF. Oh gentle lady, it is not for you to hear what I can tell: to repeat it in a woman's ear would kill her as the words fell.

Enter Banquo.

O Banquo, Banquo! Our royal master’s murder’d!

MACDUFF. Oh Banquo, Banquo! Our royal master is murdered!

LADY MACBETH. Woe, alas! What, in our house?

BANQUO. Too cruel anywhere.— Dear Duff, I pr’ythee, contradict thyself, And say it is not so.

BANQUO. Too cruel anywhere.—Dear Duff, I pray you, take back your words, and say it is not so.

Enter Macbeth and Lennox with Ross.

Enter Macbeth and Lennox, with Ross.

MACBETH. Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv’d a blessed time; for, from this instant There’s nothing serious in mortality. All is but toys: renown and grace is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.

MACBETH. Had I but died an hour before this event, I would have lived a blessed life; for from this moment on there is nothing worthwhile in mortal life. All is but trifles: honor and grace are dead; the wine of life is drawn off, and only the dregs are left for this cellar to boast of.

Enter Malcolm and Donalbain.

DONALBAIN. What is amiss?

DONALBAIN. What is wrong?

MACBETH. You are, and do not know’t: The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Is stopp’d; the very source of it is stopp’d.

MACBETH. You are wronged, and do not know it: the spring, the head, the fountain of your blood is stopped; the very source of it is stopped.

MACDUFF. Your royal father’s murder’d.

MACDUFF. Your royal father is murdered.

MALCOLM. O, by whom?

MALCOLM. Oh, by whom?

LENNOX. Those of his chamber, as it seem’d, had done’t: Their hands and faces were all badg’d with blood; So were their daggers, which, unwip’d, we found Upon their pillows. They star’d, and were distracted; No man’s life was to be trusted with them.

LENNOX. Those of his chamber, it seemed, had done it: their hands and faces were all marked with blood; so were their daggers, which we found unwiped upon their pillows. They stared, and were out of their wits; no man's life was safe with them.

MACBETH. O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them.

MACBETH. Oh, yet I do regret my fury, that I killed them.

MACDUFF. Wherefore did you so?

MACDUFF. Why did you do so?

MACBETH. Who can be wise, amaz’d, temperate, and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: Th’ expedition of my violent love Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan, His silver skin lac’d with his golden blood; And his gash’d stabs look’d like a breach in nature For ruin’s wasteful entrance: there, the murderers, Steep’d in the colours of their trade, their daggers Unmannerly breech’d with gore. Who could refrain, That had a heart to love, and in that heart Courage to make’s love known?

MACBETH. Who can be wise and stunned, calm and furious, loyal and impartial, all in a single moment? No man can. My violent love outran my slower reason. Here lay Duncan, his silver skin laced with his golden blood; and his gaping wounds looked like a breach in nature for ruin's wasteful entry: there lay the murderers, drenched in the colors of their trade, their daggers rudely sheathed with gore. Who that had a heart to love, and courage in that heart to show his love, could have restrained himself?

LADY MACBETH. Help me hence, ho!

LADY MACBETH. Help me away from here, oh!

MACDUFF. Look to the lady.

MACDUFF. Look after the lady.

MALCOLM. Why do we hold our tongues, That most may claim this argument for ours?

MALCOLM. Why do we hold our tongues, we who have the greatest claim to this matter?

DONALBAIN. What should be spoken here, where our fate, Hid in an auger hole, may rush, and seize us? Let’s away. Our tears are not yet brew’d.

DONALBAIN. What is there to say here, where our fate, hidden in some cranny, may rush out and seize us? Let us go. Our tears are not yet ready to flow.

MALCOLM. Nor our strong sorrow Upon the foot of motion.

MALCOLM. Nor is our deep sorrow yet ready to move into action.

BANQUO. Look to the lady:—

BANQUO. Look after the lady:—

[_Lady Macbeth is carried out._]

[Lady Macbeth is carried out.]

And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet, And question this most bloody piece of work To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us: In the great hand of God I stand; and thence Against the undivulg’d pretence I fight Of treasonous malice.

BANQUO. And when we have covered our naked frailties, which suffer exposed to the cold, let us meet and examine this most bloody piece of work to understand it further. Fears and doubts shake us: I stand in the great hand of God; and from there I fight against the hidden schemes of treasonous malice.

MACDUFF. And so do I.

ALL. So all.

ALL. So do we all.

MACBETH. Let’s briefly put on manly readiness, And meet i’ th’ hall together.

MACBETH. Let us quickly put on our manly armor, and meet together in the hall.

ALL. Well contented.

ALL. Well agreed.

[_Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain._]

[Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.]

MALCOLM. What will you do? Let’s not consort with them: To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy. I’ll to England.

MALCOLM. What will you do? Let us not keep company with them: to feign a sorrow one does not feel is a task the false man does easily. I will go to England.

DONALBAIN. To Ireland, I. Our separated fortune Shall keep us both the safer. Where we are, There’s daggers in men’s smiles: the near in blood, The nearer bloody.

DONALBAIN. And I to Ireland. Our fortunes kept apart will keep us both the safer. Where we are now, there are daggers behind men's smiles: the nearer in blood, the nearer to being bloody.

MALCOLM. This murderous shaft that’s shot Hath not yet lighted; and our safest way Is to avoid the aim. Therefore to horse; And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, But shift away. There’s warrant in that theft Which steals itself, when there’s no mercy left.

MALCOLM. This murderous arrow that has been shot has not yet landed; and our safest course is to keep out of its aim. Therefore to horse; and let us not be fussy about farewells, but slip away. There is justification in that theft which steals oneself away when no mercy is left.

[_Exeunt._]

[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. The same. Without the Castle.

SCENE IV. The same. Outside the Castle.

Enter Ross and an Old Man.

OLD MAN. Threescore and ten I can remember well, Within the volume of which time I have seen Hours dreadful and things strange, but this sore night Hath trifled former knowings.

OLD MAN. Seventy years I can remember well, and within the span of that time I have seen dreadful hours and strange things, but this grievous night has made all my former knowledge seem trifling.

ROSS. Ha, good father, Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man’s act, Threatens his bloody stage: by the clock ’tis day, And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp. Is’t night’s predominance, or the day’s shame, That darkness does the face of earth entomb, When living light should kiss it?

ROSS. Ah, good father, you see how the heavens, as if troubled by man's deed, threaten his bloody stage: by the clock it is day, and yet dark night smothers the travelling sun. Is it night's dominance, or the day's shame, that darkness buries the face of the earth when living light should kiss it?

OLD MAN. ’Tis unnatural, Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday last, A falcon, towering in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d.

OLD MAN. It is unnatural, just like the deed that has been done. Last Tuesday a falcon, soaring proudly at her height, was hunted down and killed by a mousing owl.

ROSS. And Duncan’s horses (a thing most strange and certain) Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, Turn’d wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, Contending ’gainst obedience, as they would make War with mankind.

ROSS. And Duncan's horses (a thing most strange and certain), beautiful and swift, the finest of their breed, turned wild in nature, broke their stalls, and burst out, resisting all control, as if they meant to make war on mankind.

OLD MAN. ’Tis said they eat each other.

OLD MAN. It is said they ate each other.

ROSS. They did so; to the amazement of mine eyes, That look’d upon’t. Here comes the good Macduff.

ROSS. They did so; to the amazement of my own eyes, which looked upon it. Here comes the good Macduff.

Enter Macduff.

How goes the world, sir, now?

ROSS. How goes the world, sir, now?

MACDUFF. Why, see you not?

MACDUFF. Why, do you not see?

ROSS. Is’t known who did this more than bloody deed?

ROSS. Is it known who did this more than bloody deed?

MACDUFF. Those that Macbeth hath slain.

MACDUFF. Those that Macbeth has slain.

ROSS. Alas, the day! What good could they pretend?

ROSS. Alas, the day! What good could they have hoped to gain?

MACDUFF. They were suborn’d. Malcolm and Donalbain, the King’s two sons, Are stol’n away and fled; which puts upon them Suspicion of the deed.

MACDUFF. They were bribed. Malcolm and Donalbain, the King's two sons, have stolen away and fled; which casts on them the suspicion of the deed.

ROSS. ’Gainst nature still: Thriftless ambition, that will ravin up Thine own life’s means!—Then ’tis most like The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.

ROSS. Against nature still: wasteful ambition, that will devour the very means of its own life!—Then it is most likely the sovereignty will fall to Macbeth.

MACDUFF. He is already nam’d; and gone to Scone To be invested.

MACDUFF. He is already named king; and gone to Scone to be crowned.

ROSS. Where is Duncan’s body?

ROSS. Where is Duncan's body?

MACDUFF. Carried to Colmekill, The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, And guardian of their bones.

MACDUFF. Carried to Colmekill, the sacred storehouse of his ancestors and the guardian of their bones.

ROSS. Will you to Scone?

ROSS. Will you go to Scone?

MACDUFF. No, cousin, I’ll to Fife.

MACDUFF. No, cousin, I will go to Fife.

ROSS. Well, I will thither.

ROSS. Well, I will go there.

MACDUFF. Well, may you see things well done there. Adieu! Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!

MACDUFF. Well, may you see things well done there. Farewell! Let us hope our old robes do not sit easier than our new ones!

ROSS. Farewell, father.

OLD MAN. God’s benison go with you; and with those That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!

OLD MAN. God's blessing go with you; and with those who would make good out of bad, and friends out of foes!

[_Exeunt._]

[Exeunt.]

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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.