Len. The night has been unruly; where we lay ur chimneys were blown down: and, as they fay, amentings heard i' th' air, strange screams of death, And prophefyings with accents terrible

Of dire combuftions, and confus'd events,

New hatch'd to th' woful time: the obfcure bird
Clamour'd the live-long night. Some fay the earth
Nas fev'rous, and did fhake.

Mach. 'Twas a rough night.

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

Enter Macduff.

Macd. O horror! horror! horror!

Or tongue or heart cannot conceive, nor name thee-
Mach, and Len. What's the matter?

Macd. Confufion now hath made his mafter-piece,
Moft facrilegious murther hath broke ope

The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence

The life o' th' building.

Mach. What is't you fay? the life?

Len. Mean you his Majefty?.

Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy your fight With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me speak;

See, and then fpeak your felves: awake! awake!--
[Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox.
Ring the alarum-bell-murther! and treafon!
Banquo, and Donalbaine! Malcolm! awake!
Shake off this downy fleep, death's counterfeit,
And look on death it felf
up, up, and fee
The great doom's image! Malcolm! 'Donalbain!`
As from your graves rife up, and walk like fprights,
To countenance this 'horror.

8 prophefying

9 Banquo!

1 horror. Ring the bell

old edit. Theob, emend.

SCENE

Bell rings. Enter Lady Macbeth.

Lady. What's the business,

That fuch an hideous trumpet calls to parley
The fleepers of the houfe? fpeak.

Macd. Gentle Lady,

'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak. The repetition in a woman's ear

Would murther as it fell.

O Banquo, Banquo,

Enter Banquo.

Our royal master's murther'd.
Lady. Woe, alas!

What, in our house?

Ban. Too cruel, any where.
Macduff, I pr'ythee contradict thy felf,
And fay, it is not so.

Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Roffe.

Mach. Had I but dy'd an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a bleffed time: for from this inftant, There's nothing ferious in mortality;

All is but toys; renown and grace

are dead;

The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees 3'Are' left this vault to brag of.

Enter Malcolm, and Donalbain.

Don. What is amifs?

Mach. You are, and do not know't:

The fpring, the head, the fountain of your blood

Is ftopt; the very fource of it is ftopt.

Macd. Your royal father's murther'd.

Mal. Oh, by whom?

Len. Thofe of his chamber, as it feem'd, had done't;

z is

3 Is

Their

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;
As no man's life was to be trufted with them.
Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury,

That I did kill them -

Macd. Wherefore did you

fo?

Mach. Who can be wife amaz'd, temp'rate and furious, Loyal and neutral in a moment? no man.

The expedition of my violent love

Out-run the paufer, Reason. Here lay Duncan,
His filver skin lac'd with his goary blood,

And his gafh'd ftabs look'd like a breach in nature,
For ruin's wafteful entrance; there the murtherers,
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?

Lady. Help me hence, ho!

Maid. Look to the Lady.

Mal. Why do we hold our tongues,

[Seeming to faint,

R That moft may claim this argument for ours?
Don. What should be spoken here,

Where our fate hid within an augre-hole,

May rush, and feize us? Let's away, our tears
Are not yet brew'd.

Mal. Nor our ftrong forrow on

The foot of motion.

Ban. 'Look there to the Lady:

[Lady Macbeth is carried out.

And when we have our naked frailties hid,
That fuffer in expofure; let us meet,

And question this moft bloody piece of work,

To know it further. Fears and fcruples fhake us:
In the great hand of God I ftand, and thence,
Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight

Of treas'nous malice.

Mach.

Mach. So do I.

All. So all.

Mach. Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i' th' hall together.

All. Well contented.

[Exeunt all but Mal. and Don

Mal. What will you do? let's not confort with them:

To fhew an unfelt forrow, is an office

Which the false man does eafie. I'll to England.
Don. To Ireland, I; our feparated fortune
Shall keep us both the fafer; where we are,
There's daggers in mens fmiles; the near in blood,
The nearer bloody.

Mal. This murderous fhaft 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 fhift away; there's warrant in that theft,
Which steals it felf when there's no mercy left. [Extat

S CE NE

Without the Castle.

Enter Roffe, with an old Man.

VI.

Old Man.Threefcore and ten I can remember well,
Within the volume of which time, I've feen
Hours dreadful, and things ftrange; but this fore night
Hath trifled former knowings.

Roffe. Ah, good father,

Thou feeft the heav'ns, as troubled with man's act,
Threaten his bloody ftage: by th' clock 'tis day,
And yet dark night ftrangles the travelling lamp:
Is't night's predominance, or the day's fhame,
That darkness does the face of earth intomb,
When living light should kifs it?

Old M. 'Tis unnatural,

Even

Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
A faulcon tow'ring in her pride of place,
Was by a moufing owl hawkt at, and kill'd.

[certain!)

Roffe. And Duncan's horfes, (a thing moft ftrange and Beauteous and fwift, the minions of their race, Turn'd wild in nature, broke their ftalls, flung out, Contending 'gainft obedience, as they would

Make war with man.

Old M. 'Tis faid, they eat each other.

Roffe. They did fo; 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, fee you not?

Roffe. Is't known who did this more than bloody deed?
Macd. Thofe that Macbeth hath flain.

Roffe. Alas the day!

What good could they pretend?

Macd. They were fuborn'd;

Malcolm, and Donalbain, the King's two fons,

Are ftol'n away and fled, which puts upon them
Sufpicion of the deed.

Roffe. 'Gainft nature still;

Thriftlefs ambition, that will ravin up

"Its own life's means. 7'Why then it is moft like The fovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.

Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone,

To be invefted.

Roffe. Where is Duncan's body?

Macd. Carried to a Colmkil,

The facred ftore-houfe of his predeceffors,

And guardian of their bones.

Roffe. Will you to Scone?

VOL. V.

I i

Macd.

(a) Colmkil is one of the western fles of Scotland, otherwife call'd

Jona.