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Macb. I will be fatisfy'd. Deny me this,

And an eternal curfe fall on you! let me know, Why finks that cauldron ? and what noise is this?

I Witch. Shew!

2. Witch. Shew!

3 Witch. Shew!

[Hautboys.

All. Shew his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, fo depart.

[Eight Kings appear and pass over in order, and Banquo; the laft, with a glass in his hand. Macb. Thou art too like the fpirit of Banquo; down! Thy crown do's fear mine eye-balls. And thy air (Thou other gold-bound brow) is like the firftA third is like the former- -filthy hags!

Why do you fhew me this?-A fourth ?-Start, eye!
What! will the line ftretch out to th' crack of Doom?-

Another yet ?- A feventh! I'll fee no more-
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
Which fhews me many more; and fome I fee,
That twofold balls and treble scepters carry.
Horrible fight! nay, now, I fee, 'tis true;
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo fmiles upon me,
And points at them for his. What, is this fo?
I Witch. Ay, Sir, all this is fo.
But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
Come, fifters, chear we up his fprights,
And fhew the beft 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.

[Mufic.

The witches dance and vanish. Mach. Where are they? gone?Let this pernicious hour

Stand
ay accurfed in the kalendar!
Come in, without there!

Len

Enter Lenox.

Len. What's your Grace's will?

Macb. Saw you the weyward fifters ?

Len. No, my lord.

Macb. Came they not by you?

Len. No, indeed, my lord.

Macb. Infected be the air whereon they ride, And damn'd all thofe that truft them! I did hear The galloping of horse. Who was't came by?

Len. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word, Macduff is fled to England.

Macb. Fled to England?*
Len. Ay, my good lord.

Macb. Time, thou anticipat'ft my dread exploits :: The flighty purpose never is o'er-took,

Unless the deed go with it.

From this moment,

The very firftlings of my heart shall be

The firflings of my hand.

And even now

To crown my thoughts with acts, be't thought and

done!

The Caftle of Macduff I will furprise,

Seize upon Fife, give to the edge o' th' fword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate fouls
That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool,
This deed I'll do before this purpose cool.

But no more fights. Where are these gentlemen ?
Come bring me where they are.

SCENE

III.

Changes to Macduff's Cafle at Fife."

[Exeunt.

Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Roffe.

L. Macd. WHA

THAT had he done, to make him
the Land?

Roffe. You must have patience, Madam.

L. Macd. He had none;

His flight was madness; when our actions do not,

Our fears do make us traitors.

Roffe.

Roffe. You know not,

Whether it was his wifdom, or his fear.

[babes, L. Macd. Wifdom? to leave his wife, to leave his His mansion, and his titles, in a place

From whence himself does fly? he loves us not,
He wants the nat`ral touch; for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her neft, 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.

Roffe. My dearest Cousin,

I pray you, fchool yourself; but for your husband,
He's noble, wife, judicious, and best knows

The fits o'th' feafon. 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

and move. way,

I take leave of you;

my

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

Things at the worft will cease, or else climb upward To what they were before: My pretty Coufin, Bleffing upon you!

L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. Roffe. I am fo much a fool, fhould I ftay longer, It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort, I take my leave at once.

L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead, And what will you

do now

Son. As birds do, Mother.

[Exit Roffe.

? how will

you

live?

L. Macd. What, on worms and flies?

Son. On what I get, I mean; and fo do they.

L. Macd. Poor bird! Thou'dft never fear the net,

nor lime:

The pit-fall, nor the gin.

Son. Why fhould I, Mother? poor birds, they are not set for.

My

My father is not dead for all your Saying.

L. Macd. Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband?

L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. Son. Then you'll buy 'em to fell again.

L. Macd. Thou fpeak'ft with all thy wit, and yet i' faith,

With wit enough for thee.

Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?
L. Macd. Ay, that he was.

Son. What is a traitor?

L. Macd. Why, one that fwears and lies.
Son. And be all traitors, that do so?

L. Macd. Every one that does fo, is a traitor, and must be hang'd.

Son. And muft they all be hang'd, that fwear and lie?

L. Macd. Every one.

Son. Who muft hang them?

L. Macd. Why, the honeft men.

Son. Then the liars and fwearers are fools; for there are liars and fwearers enow to beat the honeft men, and hang up them.

L. Macd. God help thee, poor monkey! but how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good fign that I fhould quickly have a new father.

L. Macd. Poor pratler! how thou talk'ft?

Enter a Meffenger.

Mef. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, Though in your state of honour I am perfect; I doubt, fome 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 favage;

Το

To do worship to you were fell cruelty,

Which is too nigh your person. Heav'n preferve you! [Exit Meffenger.

I dare abide no longer.

L. Macd. Whither should I fly?

I've done no harm. But I remember now,
I'm in this earthly world, where to do harm
Is often laudable; to do good, fometime
Accounted dang'rous folly. Why then, alas!
Do I put up that womanly defence,

To say, I'd done no harm?—what are these faces?
Enter Murderers.

Mur. Where is your husband?

L. Macd. I hope, in no place fo unsanctified," Where fuch as thou may'ft find him.

Mur. He's a traitor.

Son. Thou ly'ft, thou shag-ear'd villain.

Mur. What, you egg?

Young fry of treachery?

Son. He'as kill'd me, mother.

Run away, pray you.

[Stabbing him.

[Exit L. Macduff, crying Murder; Murderers purfue her.

SCENE

IV.

Changes to the King of England's Palace;
Enter Malcolm and Macduff.

Mal. L

ET us feek out fome defolate fhade, and there

Weep our fad bofoms empty.

Macd. Let us rather

Hold faft the mortal fword; and, like good men, Beftride our downfaln birth-doom: each new morn, New widows howl, new orphans cry; new forrows. Strike heaven on the face, that it refounds

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As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out

And yell'd out

Like fyllables of dolour.

This presents a ridiculous Image. But

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