Macb. 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' Buildings

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

Len. Mean you his Majefty?

Macb. Approach the Chamber, and deftroy your fight With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me fpeak;

See, and then fpeak your felves: Awake! awake !

[Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox. Macd. Ring the Alarum-Bell.---Murther! and Treafon !--Banquo, and Donalbaine! Malcolme! awake!

Shake off this downy Sleep, Death's Counterfeit,
And look on Death it felf

-up, up, and fee

The great Doom's Image! Malcome! Banguo!
As from your Graves rife up, and walk like Sprights,
To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell
Bell Rings. Enter Lady Macbeth.

Lady. What's the Bufinefs?

That fuch a hideous Trumpet calls to Parley,
The Sleepers of the Houfe? 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 Mafter's murther'd,

Lady. Woe, alas !

What, in our Houfe?

Ban. Too cruel, any where.

Dear Duff, I prithee contradi& thy felf,

And fay, it is not fo.

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 is dead;
The Wine of Life is drawn, and the mere Lees
Is left this Vault to brag of.

Enter

Enter Malcolme, and Donalbaine,

Don. What is amifs ?

Macb. You are, and do not know't;

The Spring, the Head, the Fountain of your Blocd
Is ftopt; the very Source of it is stopt.
Macd. Your Royal Father's murder'd.
Mal. Oh, by whom?

Len. Thote 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 diftracted;
No Man's Life was to be trufted with them.

Macd O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That Idid kill them

Mac Wherefore did you fo?

Macb. Who can be wife, amaz'd, temp'rate, and furious, Loyal, and Neutral, in a moment? No Man.

Th' expedition of my violent Love

Out-run the paufer, Reason. Here lay Duncan,
His filver Skin, lac'd with his golden Blood,
And his gafh'd Stabs, look'd like a Breach in Nature,
For Ruins waftful 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!-

Macd. Look to the Lady.

Mal. Why do we hold our Tongues,

[Seeming to faint.

That most may claim this Argument for ours?
Don. What should be fpoken here,

Where our Fate hid within an awger-hole,

May rush, and feize us? Let's away,

Our Tears are not yet brew'd.

Mal. Nor our ftrong 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 fuffer in expofure: let us meet,

And queftion this most bloody piece of Work,

To know it further. Fears and Scruples fhake us:

Ia

In the great Hand of God I ftand, and thence,
Against the un-divulg'd pretence I fight
Of treasonous Malice.

Macb. And fo 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 Sorrow, is an. Office

Which the falfe 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 Smiles; the near in Blood,
The nearer bloody.

Mal. This murtherous fhaft that's fhot,
Hath not yet lighted; and our safest way,

Is to avoid the aim.

Therefore to Horfe,

And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,

But fhift away; there's warrant in that Theft,
Which fteals it felf, when there's no Mercy left.

SCENE II.

Enter Roffe, with an Old Man,

Old M. Threefcore and ten I can remember well, Within the Volume of which time, I have feen

[Exeunt.

Hours dreadful, and things ftrange; but this fore Night
Hath trifled former knowings.

Roffe. Ah, good Father,

Thou feeft the Heavens, as troubled with Man's A&,
Threaten his bloody Stage: 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 fhould kifs it?

Old M. 'Tis unnatural,

Even like the Deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
A Faulcon towring in her pride of Place,
Was by a moufing Owl hawkt at, and kill'd,

Roffe.

Roffe. And Duncan's Horses,

A thing moft ftrange and certain!

Beauteous and fwift, 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 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 Sons,
Are ftoln away and fled, which puts upon them
Sufpicion of the Deed.

Roffe. 'Gainft Nature ftill;

Thriftlefs Ambition! that will raven upon
Thine own lives means; then 'tis most like
The Sovereignty 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 Colmefill,

The Sacred Store-houfe of his Predeceffors,

And Guardian of their Bones.

Roffe. Will you to Scone?

Macd. No, Coufin, I'll to Fife.

Roffe. Well, I will thither.

Macd. Well may you fee, things well done there; adieu. Left our old Robes fit easier than our new.

Roffe. Farewel, Father.

Old M. God's benifon go with you, Sir, and with those That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes. [Exeunt.

ACT

Ban.

ACT III. SCENE i.
SCENE A Royal Apartment.
Enter Banquo.

TH

HOU haft it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all;
As the weyward Women promis'd, and I fear
Thou plaid'ft moft foully for't: Yet it was faid
It should not ftand in thy Pofterity,

But that my felf fhould be the Root, and Father
Of many Kings. If there come truth from them,
As upon thee, Macbeth, their Speeches fhine,
Why by the Verities on thee made good,
May they not be my Oracles as well,

And fet me up in hope? But hush, no more.

Trumpets found. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth; Lenox, Roffe, Lords and Attendants.

Macb. Here's our chief Gueft.

Lady. If he had been forgotten,

It had been as a gap in our great Feaft,

And all things unbecoming.

Macb. To Night we hold a folemn Supper, Sir,

And I'll request your prefence.

Ban. Lay your Highness's

Command upon me, to the which, my Duties

Are with a most indissoluble tye

For ever knit.

Mach. Ride you this Afternoon?

Ban. Ay, my good Lord.

Macb. We mould have elfe defir'd your good Advice, Which still hath been both grave and profperous, In this Day's Council; but we'll take to Morrow. Is't far you ride?

Ban. As far, my Lord, as will fill up the time 'Twixt this and Supper. Go not my Horfe the better, I must become a borrower of the Night,

For a dark hour or twain.

Maco. Fail not our Feast.

Ban. My Lord, I will not.

Mach. We hear, our bloody Coufins are bestow'd In England, and in Ireland, not confeffing