Do not bid me speak;
See, and then speak yourselves.
Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox.
Awake, awake!
Ring the alarum-bell! Murther 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! Ring the bell.
Bell rings.
Enter Lady [Macbeth].
LADY M.
What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak!
MACD.
O gentle lady,
'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
The repetition in a woman's ear
Would murther as it fell.
Enter Banquo.
O Banquo, Banquo,
Our royal master's murther'd!
LADY M.
Woe, alas!
What, in our house?
BAN.
Too cruel any where.
Dear Duff, I prithee contradict thyself,
And say, it is not so.
Enter Macbeth, Lennox, Rosse.
MACB.
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.
Enter Malcolm and Donalbain.
DON.
What is amiss?
MACB.
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.
MACD.
Your royal father's murther'd.
MAL.
O, by whom?
LEN.
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.
MACB.
O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
That I did kill them.
MACD.
Wherefore did you so?
MACB.
Who can be wise, amaz'd, temp'rate, 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 murtherers,
Steep'd in the colors 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?
LADY M.
Help me hence, ho!
MACD.
Look to the lady.
MAL [Aside to Donalbain.]
Why do we hold our tongues,
That most may claim this argument for ours?
DON [Aside to Malcolm.]
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.
MAL [Aside to Donalbain.]
Nor our strong sorrow
Upon the foot of motion.
BAN.
Look to the lady.
[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 pretense I fight
Of treasonous malice.
MACD.
And so do I.
ALL.
So all.
MACB.
Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i' th' hall together.
ALL.
Well contented.
Exeunt [all but Malcolm and Donalbain].
MAL.
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.
DON.
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.
MAL.
This murtherous 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.
Exeunt.
Scene IV
Enter Rosse with 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.
ROSSE.
Ha, good father,
Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
Threatens his bloody stage. By th' 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?
OLD 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.
ROSSE.
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.
OLD MAN.
'Tis said, they eat each other.
ROSSE.
They did so – to th' amazement of mine eyes
That look'd upon't.
Enter Macduff.
Here comes the good Macduff.
How goes the world, sir, now?
MACD.
Why, see you not?
ROSSE.
Is't known who did this more than bloody deed?
MACD.
Those that Macbeth hath slain.
ROSSE.
Alas the day,
What good could they pretend?
MACD.
They were suborned.
Malcolm and Donalbain, the King's two sons,
Are stol'n away and fled, which puts upon them
Suspicion of the deed.
ROSSE.
'Gainst nature still!
Thriftless ambition, that will ravin up
Thine own live's means! Then 'tis most like
The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.
MACD.
He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone
To be invested.
ROSSE.
Where is Duncan's body?
MACD.
Carried to Colmekill,
The sacred store-house of his predecessors
And guardian of their bones.
ROSSE.
Will you to Scone?
MACD.
No, cousin, I'll to Fife.
ROSSE.
Well, I will thither.
MACD.
Well, may you see things well done there: adieu,
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!
ROSSE.
Farewell, father.
OLD MAN.
God's benison go with you, and with those
That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!
Exeunt omnes.
Act III,
Scene I
Enter Banquo.
BAN.
Thou hast it now: King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weïrd women promis'd, and I fear
Thou play'dst most foully for't; yet it was said
It should not stand in thy posterity,
But that myself should be the root and father
Of many kings.
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