Doct. Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched souls, | Due to some single breast? That stay his cure: their malady convinces Mal. I thank you, doctor. [Erit Doctor. Macd. What's the disease he means? Mal. 'Tis call'd the evil : A most miraculous work in this good king: Which often, since my here-remain in England, I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, Himself best knows but strangely-visited people, All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of surgery, he cures ; Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken, To the succeeding royalty he leaves The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, And sundry blessings hang about his throne, Macd. Stands Scotland where it did? Too nice, and yet too true! O, relation, What is the newest grief? Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker; Each minute teems a new one. Macd. Rosse. Why, well. Macd. Rosse. leave them. Well too. How does my wife? Mal. Rosse. Rosse. No mind, that's honest, But in it shares some woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone. Macd. If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound, That ever yet they heard. Macd. Humph! I guess at it. Rosse. Your castle is surpriz'd; your wife, and Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner, [babes, Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, To add the death of you. Mal. Merciful heaven!- What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; That could be found. My wife kill'd too? Wife, children, servants, all And I must be from thence! I have said. Be comforted: Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. Macd. He has no children.-All my pretty ones? Mal. Dispute it like a man. I shall do so; I cannot but remember such things were, Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, Mal. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the king; our power is ready; Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth' Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above [may; Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you The night is long, that never finds the day. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I.-Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a waiting Gentlewoman. Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked ? Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receive What concern they? at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry agitation, besides her 'Would I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words, That would be howl'd out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch them. Macd. The general cause? or is it a fee-grief, walking and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say? Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her. Doct. You may, to me; and 'tis most meet you should. Gent. Neither to you, nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech. Enter Lady MACBETH, with a taper. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her: stand close. Doct. How came she by that light? Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually; 'tis her command. Doct. You see, her eyes are open. Doct. What is it she does now; Look how she rubs her hands. Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands; I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. Lady M. Yet here's a spot. Doct. Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say!-One; Two: Why, then 'tis time to do't:- -Hell is murky!-Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account!-Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Doct. Do you mark that? Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; Where is she now?What, will these hands ne'er be clean?-No more o'that, my lord, no more o'that: you mar all with this starting. Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not. Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known. Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh! Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged. Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body. Doct. Well, well, well,— Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir. Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds. What does the tyrant? Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies : Some say he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain. He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule. Ang. Now does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands; Now minutely revolts upbraid bis faith-breach; Those he commands, move only in command, Nothing in love: now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe Upon a dwarfish thief. Ment. Who then shall blame His pester'd senses to recoil, and start, When all that is within him does condenın Itself, for being there? Well, march we on, To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd: Meet we the medicin of the sickly weal: And with him pour we, in our country's purge, Each drop of us. Len. Or so much as it needs, To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam. [Ex. marching. SCENE III.-Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Cath. Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants. Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all; Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know All mortal consequents pronounc'd me thus: Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman, Shall e'er have power on thee. Then fly, false thanes, And mingle with the English epicures: Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night- The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, gown; look not so pale.-I tell you yet again, Ban-Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear. quo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave. Doct. Even so? Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand; What's done, cannot be undone; To bed, to bed, to bed. [Exit Lady MACBETH. Doct. Will she go now to bed? [deeds Gent. Good night good doctor. [Exeunt. Enter a Servant. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon. Serv. Geese, villain? I have liv'd long enough: my way of life Macb. I'll put it on. 'Tis not needed yet. Send out more horses, skirr the country round; Must minister to himself. Therein the patient Macb. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff :Seyton, send out.-Doctor, the thanes fly from me:Come, sir, despatch:-If thou could'st, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud again.-Pull't off, I say.What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug, [them? Would scour these English hence? Hearest thou of Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Makes us hear something. Enter, with drums and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers. Macb. Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still, They come: Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie, Till famine, and the ague, eat them up; 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. What is that noise? [A cry within, of women. Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me.-Wherefore was that cry? Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead. Mac. She should have died hereafter; And then is heard no more: it is a tale Country near Dunsinane: A Wood in view. Ment. We doubt it nothing. Siw. What wood is this before us? Ment. The wood of Birnam. Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a bough, And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host, and make discovery Err in report of us. Sold. It shall be done. Enter a Messenger. Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly. I shall report that which I say I saw, Macb. Mach. Liar, and slave! I pull in resolution; and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend, Siw. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant That lies like truth: Fear not, till Birnam wood Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure Our setting down before't. Mal. 'Tis his main hope: For where there is advantage to be given, Macd. Let our just censures Do come to Dunsinane ;-and now a wood And wish the estate o'the world were now undone.- SCENE VI.-The same. A Plain before the Castle. Mal. Now, near enough; your leavy screens throw And shew like those you are:-You, worthy uncle, Siw. Fare you well.— Do we but find the tyrant's power to night, SCENE VII.-The same. Another part of the Plain. Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a [title More hateful to mine ear. Macb. [They fight, and young SIWARD is slain. Alarums. Enter MACDUFf. Macd. That way the noise is: Tyrant, shew thy face: If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine, Despair thy charm ; And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd, Mach. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Macb. Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter with drum and colours, Mal. I would, the friends we miss were safe arriv'd. Mal. Macduff is missing, and your noble son. The which no sooner had his powers confirm'd Siw. Then he is dead? [sorrow Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field: your case of I sheathe again undeeded. There thou should'st be; Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then Enter MALCOLM and old SIWARD. And little is to do. Mal. We have met with foes That strike beside us. It hath no end. Siw. Had he his hurts before? Siw. Why, then, God's soldier be he! I would not wish them to a fairer death: And that I'll spend for him. He's worth more sorrow, He's worth no more; Re-enter MACBETH. THIS play appears to have been written in 1596, but was not published till 1623. It was founded on the old play called The troublesome reign of King John, which was printed in 1591, and is attributed by Pope, though he does not state his authority, to the joint efforts of Shakspeare and Rowley.-The elder play was twice published with the initials of Shakspeare on the title page. Shakspeare has preserved the greatest part of the conduct of it, as well as some of the lines. The number of quotations from Horace, and similar scraps of learning scattered over this piece, ascertain it to have been the work of a scholar. It contains likewise a quantity of rhyming Latin, and ballad metre; and in a scene where the Bastard is repre PERSONS REPRESENTED. KING JOHN. PRINCE HENRY, his son; afterwards King Henry III. WILLIAM LONGSWORD, Earl of Salisbury. HUBERT DE BURGH, chamberlain to the King. PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE, his half-brother, bastard son JAMES GURNEY, servant to Lady Faulconbridge, PHILIP, King of France. LEWIS, the Dauphin. ARCHDUKE of AUSTRIA. Cardinal PANDULPH, the Pope's legate. CHATILLON, ambassador from France to King John. ELINOR, the widow of King Henry II., and mother of CONSTANCE, mother to Arthur. Lady FAULCONBRIDGE, mother to the Bastard and Lords, Ladies, Citizens of Angiers, Sheriff, Heralds, SCENE,-sometimes in ENGLAND, and sented as plundering a monastery, there are strokes of humour, which seem, from their particular turn, to have been most evidently produced by another hand than that of our author. Of this historical drama there is a subsequent edition in 1611, printed for John Helme, whose name appears before none of the genuine pieces of Shakspeare. Mr. Steevens admitted this play as our author's own, among the twenty which he published from the old editions: he afterwards, perhaps with out sufficient grounds, receded from that opinion. The action of the present tragedy occupies a space of about seventeen years; beginning at the thirty-fourth year of king John's life. ACT I. SCENE I. Northampton.-A Room of State in the Palace. Enter KING JOHN, QUEEN ELINOR, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, SALISBUBY, and others, with CHATILLON. King John. Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with us? Chat. Thus, after greeting, speaks the king of France, In my behaviour, to the majesty, The borrow'd majesty of England here. Eli. A strange beginning;-borrow'd majesty! K. John. What follows, if we disallow of this? Controlment for controlment: so answer France. Chat. Then take my king's defiance from my mouth, K. John. Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace : |