MACBETH

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

(PAGINA 5)

MACBETH



ACT III





SCENE V A Heath.



[Thunder. Enter the three Witches meeting HECATE]

First Witch Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly.

HECATE Have I not reason, beldams as you are,

Saucy and overbold? How did you dare

To trade and traffic with Macbeth

In riddles and affairs of death;

And I, the mistress of your charms,

The close contriver of all harms,

Was never call'd to bear my part,

Or show the glory of our art?

And, which is worse, all you have done

Hath been but for a wayward son,

Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do,

Loves for his own ends, not for you.

But make amends now: get you gone,

And at the pit of Acheron

Meet me i' the morning: thither he

Will come to know his destiny:

Your vessels and your spells provide,

Your charms and every thing beside.

I am for the air; this night I'll spend

Unto a dismal and a fatal end:

Great business must be wrought ere noon:

Upon the corner of the moon

There hangs a vaporous drop profound;

I'll catch it ere it come to ground:

And that distill'd by magic sleights

Shall raise such artificial sprites

As by the strength of their illusion

Shall draw him on to his confusion:

He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear

He hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear:

And you all know, security

Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

[Music and a song within: 'Come away, come

away,' &c]

Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see,

Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.

[Exit]

First Witch Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.

[Exeunt]







MACBETH



ACT III





SCENE VI Forres. The palace.



[Enter LENNOX and another Lord]

LENNOX My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,

Which can interpret further: only, I say,

Things have been strangely borne. The

gracious Duncan

Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead:

And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;

Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd,

For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late.

Who cannot want the thought how monstrous

It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain

To kill their gracious father? damned fact!

How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight

In pious rage the two delinquents tear,

That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep?

Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too;

For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive

To hear the men deny't. So that, I say,

He has borne all things well: and I do think

That had he Duncan's sons under his key--

As, an't please heaven, he shall not--they

should find

What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance.

But, peace! for from broad words and 'cause he fail'd

His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear

Macduff lives in disgrace: sir, can you tell

Where he bestows himself?

Lord The son of Duncan,

From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth

Lives in the English court, and is received

Of the most pious Edward with such grace

That the malevolence of fortune nothing

Takes from his high respect: thither Macduff

Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid

To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward:

That, by the help of these--with Him above

To ratify the work--we may again

Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights,

Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives,

Do faithful homage and receive free honours:

All which we pine for now: and this report

Hath so exasperate the king that he

Prepares for some attempt of war.

LENNOX Sent he to Macduff?

Lord He did: and with an absolute 'Sir, not I,'

The cloudy messenger turns me his back,

And hums, as who should say 'You'll rue the time

That clogs me with this answer.'

LENNOX And that well might

Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance

His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel

Fly to the court of England and unfold

His message ere he come, that a swift blessing

May soon return to this our suffering country

Under a hand accursed!

Lord I'll send my prayers with him.

[Exeunt]







MACBETH



ACT IV





SCENE I A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.



[Thunder. Enter the three Witches]



First Witch Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.

Second Witch Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.

Third Witch Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time.

First Witch Round about the cauldron go;

In the poison'd entrails throw.

Toad, that under cold stone

Days and nights has thirty-one

Swelter'd venom sleeping got,

Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

ALL Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch Fillet of a fenny snake,

In the cauldron boil and bake;

Eye of newt and toe of frog,

Wool of bat and tongue of dog,

Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,

Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

ALL Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Third Witch Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,

Witches' mummy, maw and gulf

Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,

Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,

Liver of blaspheming Jew,

Gall of goat, and slips of yew

Silver'd in the moon's eclipse,

Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,

Finger of birth-strangled babe

Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,

Make the gruel thick and slab:

Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,

For the ingredients of our cauldron.

ALL Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch Cool it with a baboon's blood,

Then the charm is firm and good.

[Enter HECATE to the other three Witches]

HECATE O well done! I commend your pains;

And every one shall share i' the gains;

And now about the cauldron sing,

Live elves and fairies in a ring,

Enchanting all that you put in.

[Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' &c]

[HECATE retires]

Second Witch By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes.

Open, locks,

Whoever knocks!

[Enter MACBETH]

MACBETH How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!

What is't you do?

ALL A deed without a name.

MACBETH I conjure you, by that which you profess,

Howe'er you come to know it, answer me:

Though you untie the winds and let them fight

Against the churches; though the yesty waves

Confound and swallow navigation up;

Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down;

Though castles topple on their warders' heads;

Though palaces and pyramids do slope

Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure

Of nature's germens tumble all together,

Even till destruction sicken; answer me

To what I ask you.

First Witch Speak.

Second Witch Demand.

Third Witch We'll answer.

First Witch Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,

Or from our masters?

MACBETH Call 'em; let me see 'em.

First Witch Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten

Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten

From the murderer's gibbet throw

Into the flame.

ALL Come, high or low;

Thyself and office deftly show!

[Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head]

MACBETH Tell me, thou unknown power,--

First Witch He knows thy thought:

Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

First Apparition Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;

Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.

[Descends]

MACBETH Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;

Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one

word more,--

First Witch He will not be commanded: here's another,

More potent than the first.

[Thunder. Second Apparition: A bloody Child]

Second Apparition Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!

MACBETH Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee.

Second Apparition Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn

The power of man, for none of woman born

Shall harm Macbeth.

[Descends]

MACBETH Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee?

But yet I'll make assurance double sure,

And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;

That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,

And sleep in spite of thunder.

[Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned,

with a tree in his hand]

What is this

That rises like the issue of a king,

And wears upon his baby-brow the round

And top of sovereignty?

ALL Listen, but speak not to't.

Third Apparition Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care

Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:

Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until

Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill

Shall come against him.

[Descends]

MACBETH That will never be

Who can impress the forest, bid the tree

Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!

Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood

Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth

Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath

To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart

Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art

Can tell so much: shall Banquo's issue ever

Reign in this kingdom?

ALL Seek to know no more.

MACBETH I will be satisfied: deny me this,

And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.

Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?

[Hautboys]

First Witch Show!

Second Witch Show!

Third Witch Show!

ALL Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;

Come like shadows, so depart!

[A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in

his hand; GHOST OF BANQUO following]

MACBETH Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down!

Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair,

Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.

A third is like the former. Filthy hags!

Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes!

What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?

Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more:

And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass

Which shows me many more; and some I see

That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry:

Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true;

For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,

And points at them for his.

[Apparitions vanish]

What, is this so?

First Witch Ay, sir, all this is so: but why

Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?

Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,

And show the best of our delights:

I'll charm the air to give a sound,

While you perform your antic round:

That this great king may kindly say,

Our duties did his welcome pay.

[Music. The witches dance and then vanish,

with HECATE]

MACBETH Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour

Stand aye accursed in the calendar!

Come in, without there!

[Enter LENNOX]

LENNOX What's your grace's will?

MACBETH Saw you the weird sisters?

LENNOX No, my lord.

MACBETH Came they not by you?

LENNOX No, indeed, my lord.

MACBETH Infected be the air whereon they ride;

And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear

The galloping of horse: who was't came by?

LENNOX 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word

Macduff is fled to England.

MACBETH Fled to England!

LENNOX Ay, my good lord.

MACBETH Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits:

The flighty purpose never is o'ertook

Unless the deed go with it; from this moment

The very firstlings of my heart shall be

The firstlings of my hand. And even now,

To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:

The castle of Macduff I will surprise;

Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword

His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls

That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;

This deed I'll do before this purpose cool.

But no more sights!--Where are these gentlemen?

Come, bring me where they are.

[Exeunt]







MACBETH



ACT IV





SCENE II Fife. Macduff's castle.



[Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSS]

LADY MACDUFF What had he done, to make him fly the land?

ROSS You must have patience, madam.

LADY MACDUFF He had none:

His flight was madness: when our actions do not,

Our fears do make us traitors.

ROSS You know not

Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.

LADY MACDUFF Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,

His mansion and his titles in a place

From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;

He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,

The most diminutive of birds, will fight,

Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.

All is the fear and nothing is the love;

As little is the wisdom, where the flight

So runs against all reason.

ROSS My dearest coz,

I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband,

He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows

The fits o' the season. I dare not speak

much further;

But cruel are the times, when we are traitors

And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour

From what we fear, yet know not what we fear,

But float upon a wild and violent sea

Each way and move. I take my leave of you:

Shall not be long but I'll be here again:

Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward

To what they were before. My pretty cousin,

Blessing upon you!

LADY MACDUFF Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.

ROSS I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,

It would be my disgrace and your discomfort:

I take my leave at once.

[Exit]

LADY MACDUFF Sirrah, your father's dead;

And what will you do now? How will you live?

Son As birds do, mother.

LADY MACDUFF What, with worms and flies?

Son With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

LADY MACDUFF Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime,

The pitfall nor the gin.

Son Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.

My father is not dead, for all your saying.

LADY MACDUFF Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?

Son Nay, how will you do for a husband?

LADY MACDUFF Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.

Son Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

LADY MACDUFF Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith,

With wit enough for thee.

Son Was my father a traitor, mother?

LADY MACDUFF Ay, that he was.

Son What is a traitor?

LADY MACDUFF Why, one that swears and lies.

Son And be all traitors that do so?

LADY MACDUFF Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.

Son And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?

LADY MACDUFF Every one.

Son Who must hang them?

LADY MACDUFF Why, the honest men.

Son Then the liars and swearers are fools,

for there are liars and swearers enow to beat

the honest men and hang up them.

LADY MACDUFF Now, God help thee, poor monkey!

But how wilt thou do for a father?

Son If he were dead, you'ld weep for

him: if you would not, it were a good sign

that I should quickly have a new father.

LADY MACDUFF Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!

[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,

Though in your state of honour I am perfect.

I doubt some danger does approach you nearly:

If you will take a homely man's advice,

Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.

To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;

To do worse to you were fell cruelty,

Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!

I dare abide no longer.

[Exit]

LADY MACDUFF Whither should I fly?

I have done no harm. But I remember now

I am in this earthly world; where to do harm

Is often laudable, to do good sometime

Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas,

Do I put up that womanly defence,

To say I have done no harm?

[Enter Murderers]

What are these faces?

First Murderer Where is your husband?

LADY MACDUFF I hope, in no place so unsanctified

Where such as thou mayst find him.

First Murderer He's a traitor.

Son Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!

First Murderer What, you egg!

[Stabbing him]

Young fry of treachery!

Son He has kill'd me, mother:

Run away, I pray you!

[Dies]

[Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying 'Murder!' Exeunt

Murderers, following her]





MACBETH



ACT IV





SCENE III England. Before the King's palace.



[Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF]

MALCOLM Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there

Weep our sad bosoms empty.

MACDUFF Let us rather

Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men

Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new morn

New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows

Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds

As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out

Like syllable of dolour.

MALCOLM What I believe I'll wail,

What know believe, and what I can redress,

As I shall find the time to friend, I will.

What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.

This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,

Was once thought honest: you have loved him well.

He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young;

but something

You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom

To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb

To appease an angry god.

MACDUFF I am not treacherous.

MALCOLM But Macbeth is.

A good and virtuous nature may recoil

In an imperial charge. But I shall crave

your pardon;

That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose:

Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;

Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,

Yet grace must still look so.

MACDUFF I have lost my hopes.

MALCOLM Perchance even there where I did find my doubts.

Why in that rawness left you wife and child,

Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,

Without leave-taking? I pray you,

Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,

But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just,

Whatever I shall think.

MACDUFF Bleed, bleed, poor country!

Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure,

For goodness dare not cheque thee: wear thou

thy wrongs;

The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord:

I would not be the villain that thou think'st

For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,

And the rich East to boot.

MALCOLM Be not offended:

I speak not as in absolute fear of you.

I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;

It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash

Is added to her wounds: I think withal

There would be hands uplifted in my right;

And here from gracious England have I offer

Of goodly thousands: but, for all this,

When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,

Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country

Shall have more vices than it had before,

More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,

By him that shall succeed.

MACDUFF What should he be?

MALCOLM It is myself I mean: in whom I know

All the particulars of vice so grafted

That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth

Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state

Esteem him as a lamb, being compared

With my confineless harms.

MACDUFF Not in the legions

Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd

In evils to top Macbeth.

MALCOLM I grant him bloody,

Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,

Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin

That has a name: but there's no bottom, none,

In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,

Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up

The cistern of my lust, and my desire

All continent impediments would o'erbear

That did oppose my will: better Macbeth

Than such an one to reign.

MACDUFF Boundless intemperance

In nature is a tyranny; it hath been

The untimely emptying of the happy throne

And fall of many kings. But fear not yet

To take upon you what is yours: you may

Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,

And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.

We have willing dames enough: there cannot be

That vulture in you, to devour so many

As will to greatness dedicate themselves,

Finding it so inclined.

MALCOLM With this there grows

In my most ill-composed affection such

A stanchless avarice that, were I king,

I should cut off the nobles for their lands,

Desire his jewels and this other's house:

And my more-having would be as a sauce

To make me hunger more; that I should forge

Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,

Destroying them for wealth.

MACDUFF This avarice

Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root

Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been

The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear;

Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will.

Of your mere own: all these are portable,

With other graces weigh'd.

MALCOLM But I have none: the king-becoming graces,

As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,

Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,

Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,

I have no relish of them, but abound

In the division of each several crime,

Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should

Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,

Uproar the universal peace, confound

All unity on earth.

MACDUFF O Scotland, Scotland!

MALCOLM If such a one be fit to govern, speak:

I am as I have spoken.

MACDUFF Fit to govern!

No, not to live. O nation miserable,

With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,

When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,

Since that the truest issue of thy throne

By his own interdiction stands accursed,

And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father

Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee,

Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,

Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!

These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself

Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,

Thy hope ends here!

MALCOLM Macduff, this noble passion,

Child of integrity, hath from my soul

Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts

To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth

By many of these trains hath sought to win me

Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me

From over-credulous haste: but God above

Deal between thee and me! for even now

I put myself to thy direction, and

Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure

The taints and blames I laid upon myself,

For strangers to my nature. I am yet

Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,

Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,

At no time broke my faith, would not betray

The devil to his fellow and delight

No less in truth than life: my first false speaking

Was this upon myself: what I am truly,

Is thine and my poor country's to command:

Whither indeed, before thy here-approach,

Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,

Already at a point, was setting forth.

Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness

Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?

MACDUFF Such welcome and unwelcome things at once

'Tis hard to reconcile.

[Enter a Doctor]

MALCOLM Well; more anon.--Comes the king forth, I pray you?

Doctor Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls

That stay his cure: their malady convinces

The great assay of art; but at his touch--

Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand--

They presently amend.

MALCOLM I thank you, doctor.

[Exit Doctor]

MACDUFF What's the disease he means?

MALCOLM 'Tis call'd the evil:

A most miraculous work in this good king;

Which often, since my here-remain in England,

I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,

Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,

All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,

The mere despair of surgery, he cures,

Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,

Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,

To the succeeding royalty he leaves

The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,

He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,

And sundry blessings hang about his throne,

That speak him full of grace.

[Enter ROSS]

MACDUFF See, who comes here?

MALCOLM My countryman; but yet I know him not.

MACDUFF My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

MALCOLM I know him now. Good God, betimes remove

The means that makes us strangers!

ROSS Sir, amen.

MACDUFF Stands Scotland where it did?

ROSS Alas, poor country!

Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot

Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,

But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;

Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air

Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems

A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell

Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives

Expire before the flowers in their caps,

Dying or ere they sicken.

MACDUFF O, relation

Too nice, and yet too true!

MALCOLM What's the newest grief?

ROSS That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker:

Each minute teems a new one.

MACDUFF How does my wife?

ROSS Why, well.

MACDUFF And all my children?

ROSS Well too.

MACDUFF The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?

ROSS No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.

MACDUFF But not a niggard of your speech: how goes't?

ROSS When I came hither to transport the tidings,

Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour

Of many worthy fellows that were out;

Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,

For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot:

Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland

Would create soldiers, make our women fight,

To doff their dire distresses.

MALCOLM Be't their comfort

We are coming thither: gracious England hath

Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men;

An older and a better soldier none

That Christendom gives out.

ROSS Would I could answer

This comfort with the like! But I have words

That would be howl'd out in the desert air,

Where hearing should not latch them.

MACDUFF What concern they?

The general cause? or is it a fee-grief

Due to some single breast?

ROSS No mind that's honest

But in it shares some woe; though the main part

Pertains to you alone.

MACDUFF If it be mine,

Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

ROSS Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,

Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound

That ever yet they heard.

MACDUFF Hum! I guess at it.

ROSS Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes

Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,

Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,

To add the death of you.

MALCOLM Merciful heaven!

What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;

Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak

Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.

MACDUFF My children too?

ROSS Wife, children, servants, all

That could be found.

MACDUFF And I must be from thence!

My wife kill'd too?

ROSS I have said.

MALCOLM Be comforted:

Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,

To cure this deadly grief.

MACDUFF He has no children. All my pretty ones?

Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?

What, all my pretty chickens and their dam

At one fell swoop?

MALCOLM Dispute it like a man.

MACDUFF I shall do so;

But I must also feel it as a man:

I cannot but remember such things were,

That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,

And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,

They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,

Not for their own demerits, but for mine,

Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now!

MALCOLM Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief

Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.

MACDUFF O, I could play the woman with mine eyes

And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens,

Cut short all intermission; front to front

Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;

Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,

Heaven forgive him too!

MALCOLM This tune goes manly.

Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;

Our lack is nothing but our leave; Macbeth

Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above

Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may:

The night is long that never finds the day.

[Exeunt]

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