Macb. The labour, we delight in, phyfics pain; This is the door.

Macd. I'll make fo bold to call, for 'tis my limited

service.

Len. Goes the King hence to day?

Macb. He did appoint fo.

[Exit Macduff.

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

Of dire combuftion, and confus'd events,

New hatch'd to th' woful time:

The obfcure bird clamour'd the live-long night.
Some fay, the earth was fev'rous, and did shake.
Macb. 'Twas a rough night.

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

Enter Macduff.

Macd. O horror! horror! horror!

Nor tongue, nor heart, cannot conceive, nor name thee

Macb. and Len. What's the matter?

Macd. Confufion now hath made his master-piece;

Moft facrilegious murder hath broke ope

The Lord's anointed temple, and ftole thence

The life o'th' building.

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

Len. Mean you his Majefty?

Macd. Approach the chamber, and deftroy your fight

With a new Gorgon.-Do not bid me speak ;

See, and then speak yourselves: awake! awake!
[Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox.

Ring the alarm-bell-murder! and treafon!
Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!

Shake off this downy fleep, death's counterfeit,
And look on death itself-
-up, up, and fee

The great Doom's image-Malcolm! Banquo !
As from your graves rife up, and walk like sprights,
To countenance this horror.-

Bell rings. Enter Lady Macbeth.

HAT's the business,

Lady. That fuch an hideous trumpet calls to W

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 murder as it fell.O Banquo, Banquo!

Enter Banquo.

Our royal mafter's murder'd.

Lady. Woe, alas !

What, in our house?

Ban. Too cruel, any where.

Macduff, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself,
And fay, it is not fo.

Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Roffe.

Macb. 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, 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 amifs?

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

The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
Is ftopt; the very fource of it is ftopt.

Macd. Your royal father's murder'd.

Mal.

Mal. Oh, by whom?

Len. Thofe of his chamber, as it feem'd, had don't; Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood, So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found Upon their pillows; they ftar'd and were distracted; 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.

Macb. 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, Reafon. Here, lay Duncan ;
His filver fkin laced with his golden blood,

And his gafh'd Stabs look'd like a breach in Nature,
For Ruin's wafteful entrance; there, the murderers;
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
* Unmanly reech'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!-
Macd. Look to the lady.

[Seeming to faint.

Mal. Why do we hold our tongues,

That most may claim this argument for ours?
Don. What fhould 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 to the lady;

[Lady Macbeth is carried out.

And when we have our naked frailties hid,

That fuffer in expofure, let us meet,

* Unmannerly breech'd with Gore:-] This nonfenfical Account of the State in which the Daggers were found, must surely be read thus, Unmanly reech'd with Gore:

Warb.

And

And queftion this moft bloody piece of work,
To know it further. Fears and fcruples fhake us.
In the great hand of God I stand, and thence,
Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight
Of treas'nous malice.

Macb. So do I.

All. So, all.

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

All. Well contented.

[Exeunt.

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

them:

To fhew an unfelt forrow, is an office

Which the falfe man does eafy.

I'll to England.

Don. To Ireland, I; our feparated fortune

Shall keep us both the fafer; where we are,

There's daggers in men's fmiles; the near in blood,
The nearer bloody.

Mal. This murderous fhaft that's fhot,
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 fteals itself when there's no mercy left.

Old Man.

SCENE VI.

The Outfide of Macbeth's Castle.
Enter Roffe, with an old Man.

TH

[Exeunt.

HREESCORE and ten I can remember well,

Within the volume of which time, I've seen

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

Threaten this 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 kiss it?

Old M. 'Tis unnatural,

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

Roffe. And Duncan's horfes, (a thing moft ftrange 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 man.

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

Roffe. They did fo; to the 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 Donulbain, the King's two Sons,
Are ftoll'n and fled; which puts upon them
Sufpicion of the Deed.

away

Roffe. 'Gainft nature ftill ;

Thriftlefs ambition! that wilt ravin up

Thine own life's means.- Then 'tis moft like,
The Sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth?

Macd.