Macbeth

“I have done no harm. But I remember now

“Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier’s debt. He only liv’d but till he was a man, The which no sooner had his prowess confirm’d In the unshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he died.

Are you a man?

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

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.

“Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrowMust not be measur’d by his worth, for thenIt hath no end.

“Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas’d,Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,Raze out the written troubles of the brain,And with some sweet oblivious antidoteCleanse the stuff’d bosom of that perilous stuffWhich weighs upon the heart?

“Foul whisp’rings are abroad. Unnatural deedsDo breed unnatural troubles; infected mindsTo their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.More needs she the divine than the physician.

“Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies.Some say he’s mad; others that lesser hate himDo call it valiant fury; but for certainHe cannot buckle his distemper’d causeWithin the belt of rule.

“Hark, she speaks. I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.

“I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose armsAre hir’d to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth,Or else my sword with an unbattered edgeI sheathe again undeeded.

“I have liv’d long enough: my way of lifeIs fall’n into the sear, the yellow leaf,And that which should accompany old age,As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,I must not look to have; but in their stead,Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath,Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.

“If this which he avouches does appear,There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.I gin to be a-weary of the sun,And wish th’ estate o’ th’ world were now undone.

“Now does he feel his titleHang loose about him, like a giant’s robeUpon a dwarfish thief.

“Or so much as it needsTo dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds.Make we our march towards Birnan.

“Out, out, brief candle!Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,And then is heard no more.

Scene 1“A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching! In this slumb’ry agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say?

“The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,Shall never sag with doubt, nor shake with fear.

“There thou shouldst be;By this great clatter, one of greatest noteSeems bruited. Let me find him, Fortune!And more I beg not.

“There would have been a time for such a word.Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,To the last syllable of recorded time;

“They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,But bear-like I must fight the course. What’s heThat was not born of woman? Such a oneAm I to fear, or none.

“this, and what needful elseThat calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,We will perform in measure, time, and place.”

“Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,And beat them backward home.

“And my more-having would be as a sauceTo make me hunger more, that I should forgeQuarrels unjust against the good and loyal,Destroying them for wealth.

“Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,Though in your state of honor 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.

“I am yetUnknown to woman, never was forsworn,Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,At no time broke my faith, would not betrayThe devil to his fellow, and delightNo less in truth than life.

“I grant him bloody,Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sinThat has a name; but there’s no bottom, none,In my voluptuousness.

“MACD.If it be mine,Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.ROSSE.Let not your ears despise my tongue forever,Which shall possess them with the heaviest soundThat ever yet they heard.

“MAL.Dispute it like a man.MACD.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.

“MAL.Let us seek out some desolate shade, and thereWeep our sad bosoms empty.MACD.Let us ratherHold fast the mortal sword, and like good menBestride our downfall birthdom.

“Merciful heaven!What, man, ne’er pull your hat upon your brows;Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speakWhispers the o’er-fraught heart, and bids it break.

“The dead man’s knellIs there scarce ask’d for who, and good men’s livesExpire before the flowers in their caps,Dying or ere they sicken.

“This tune goes manly.Come go we to the King, our power is ready,Our lack is nothing but our leave. MacbethIs ripe for shaking, and the pow’rs abovePut on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may,The night is long that never finds the day.

“Thy royal fatherWas a most sainted king; the queen that bore thee,Oft’ner upon her knees than on her feet,Died every day she liv’d.

“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.

“With this strange virtue,He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,And sundry blessings hang about his throneThat speak him full of grace.

“Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting,Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing,For a charm of pow’rful trouble,Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

“Be bloody, bold, and resolute: laugh to scornThe pow’r of man; for none of woman bornShall harm Macbeth.

“Double, double, toil and trouble;Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

“From this momentThe very firstlings of my heart shall beThe firstlings of my hand. And even now,To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:

“I’ll charm the air to give a sound,While you perform your antic round;That this great king may kindly sayOur duties did his welcome pay.

“O, well done! I commend your pains,And every one shall share i’ th’ gains.And now about the cauldron sing,Like elves and fairies in a ring,Enchanting all that you put in.

“Rebellious dead, rise never till the woodOf Birnan rise, and our high-plac’d MacbethShall live the lease of nature, pay his breathTo time and mortal custom.

“Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights;Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives;Do faithful homage and receive free honors;All which we pine for now.

“My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,Which can interpret farther; only I sayThings have been strangely borne.

“Your vessels and your spells provide,Your charms and every thing beside.I am for th’ air; this night I’ll spendUnto a dismal and a fatal end.

“And I another,So weary with disasters, tugg’d with fortune,That I would set my life on any chance,To mend it, or be rid on’t.

“As far, my lord, as will fill up the time’Twixt this and supper. Go not my horse the better,I must become a borrower of the nightFor a dark hour or twain.

“Better be with the dead,Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,Than on the torture of the mind to lieIn restless ecstasy.

“Can such things be,And overcome us like a summer’s cloud,Without our special wonder? You make me strangeEven to the disposition that I owe,