페이지 이미지
PDF
ePub

A LANDSCAPE.

ONE day, as he did raunge the fields abroad,
Whilest his faire Pastorella was elsewhere,
He chaunst to come, far from all people's troad,
Unto a place, whose pleasance did appere
To passe all others on the Earth which were :
For all that ever was by Natures skill
Devizd to worke delight was gatherd there;
And there by her were poured forth at fill,
As if, this to adorne, she all the rest did pill.

It was an hill plaste in an open plaine,
That round about was borderd with a wood
Of matchlesse hight, that seemd th' earth to disdaine;
In which all trees of honour stately stood,
And did all winter as in sommer bud,
Spredding pavilions for the birds to bowre,
Which in their lower braunches sung aloud;
And in their tops the soring hauke did towre,
Sitting like king of fowles in maiesty and powre:

And at the foote thereof a gentle flud
His silver waves did softly tumble downe,
Unmard with ragged mosse or filthy mud;
Ne mote wylde beastes, ne mote the ruder clowne,
Thereto approch; ne filth mote therein drowne:
But nymphes and faeries by the bancks did sit
In the woods shade which did the waters crowne,
Keeping all noysome things away from it,
And to the water's fall tuning their accents fit.

And on the top thereof a spacious plaine
Did spred itselfe, to serve to all delight,

Either to daunce, when they to daunce would faine,
Or else to course-about their bases light;
Ne ought there wanted, which for pleasure might
Desired be, or thence to banish bale:
So pleasauntly the hill with equall hight
Did seem to overlook the lowly vale;
Therefore it righly cleeped was Mount Acidale.

MACBETH.

SPENSER.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Macb. Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch

thee:

I have thee not; and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind; a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.

Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still;
And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood,
was not so before. There's no such thing:

It is the bloody business, which informs

Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er one half the world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtained sleeper; now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings; and withered murder,
Alarumed by his sentinel, the wolf,

Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my where-about,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. While I threat, he lives,
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.

A bell rings.

I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan! for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell!

SCENE II.

Enter LADY MACBETH.

Lady. That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold;

What hath quenched them, hath given me fire. Hark!
Peace!

It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman,
Which gives the sternest good-night. He is about it:
The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms

Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugged
their possets,

That death and nature do contend about them,
Whether they live, or die.

Macb. [Within.] Who's there? what, oh!
Lady. Alack! I am afraid they have awaked,
And 'tis not done: the attempt, and not the deed,
Confounds us: Hark! I laid their daggers ready,

He could not miss them.

Had he not resembled

My father, as he slept, I had done't. My husband ?

Enter MACBETH.

Macb. I have done the deed:—didst thou not hear a noise?

Lady. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry : Did not you speak? Macb. When? Lady. Now.

Macb. As I descended ?

Lady. Ay.

Macb. Hark! who lies i' the second chamber?
Lady. Donalbain.

Macb. This is a sorry sight. [Looking on his hands.
Lady. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried, Murder!

That they did wake each other; I stood and heard

them :

But they did say their prayers, and addressed them
Again to sleep.

Lady. There are two lodged together.

Macb. One cried, God bless us! and, Amen! the other;

As they had seen me, with these hangman's hands,
Listening their fear. I could not say, Amen,
When they did say, God bless us.

Lady. Consider it not so deeply.

Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen? I had most need of blessing, and Amen Stuck in my throat.

Lady. These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more !

Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep;
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast;"-

Lady. What do you mean ?

Macb. Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" to all the house:

"Glamis hath murdered sleep; and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!" Lady. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,

You do unbend your noble strength, to think
So brain-sickly of such things:-Go, get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.
Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
They must lie there: Go, carry them; and smear
The sleepy grooms with blood.

Macb. I'll go no more:

I am afraid to think what I have done;

Look on't again I dare not.

Lady. Infirm of purpose!

Give me the daggers: The sleeping, and the dead,
Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
For it must seem their guilt.

[Exit. Knocking within.

Macb. Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine

eyes!

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood

Clean froza my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green-one red.

« 이전계속 »