1606 The Tragedy Of Macbeth
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Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 Next page LADY MACBETH. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. MACBETH. Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse Is the initiate fear that wants hard use. We are yet but young in deed. Exeunt. SCENE V. A heath. Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecate. FIRST WITCH. Why, how now, Hecate? You look angerly. HECATE. Have I not reason, beldams as you are, Saucy and overbold? How did you dare To trade and traffic with Macbeth In riddles and affairs of death, And I, the mistress of your charms, The close contriver of all harms, Was never call'd to bear my part, Or show the glory of our art? And, which is worse, all you have done Hath been but for a wayward son, Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you. But make amends now. Get you gone, And at the pit of Acheron Meet me i' the morning. Thither he Will come to know his destiny. Your vessels and your spells provide, Your charms and everything beside. I am for the air; this night I'll spend Unto a dismal and a fatal end. Great business must be wrought ere noon: Upon the corner of the moon There hangs a vaporous drop profound; I'll catch it ere it come to ground. And that distill'd by magic sleights Shall raise such artificial sprites As by the strength of their illusion Shall draw him on to his confusion. He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear. And you all know security Is mortals' chiefest enemy. Music and a song within, "Come away, come away." Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me. Exit. FIRST WITCH. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again. Exeunt. SCENE VI. Forres. The palace. Enter Lennox and another Lord. LENNOX. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret farther; only I say Thing's have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth; marry, he was dead. And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too late, Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd, For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father? Damned fact! How it did grieve Macbeth! Did he not straight, In pious rage, the two delinquents tear That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too, For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive To hear the men deny't. So that, I say, He has borne all things well; and I do think That, had he Duncan's sons under his key- As, an't please heaven, he shall not -they should find What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. But, peace! For from broad words, and 'cause he fail'd His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear, Macduff lives in disgrace. Sir, can you tell Where he bestows himself? LORD. The son of Duncan, From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth, Lives in the English court and is received Of the most pious Edward with such grace That the malevolence of fortune nothing Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduff Is gone to pray the holy King, upon his aid To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward; That by the help of these, with Him above To ratify the work, we may again Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights, Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives, Do faithful homage, and receive free honors- All which we pine for now. And this report Hath so exasperate the King that he Prepares for some attempt of war. LENNOX. Sent he to Macduff? LORD. He did, and with an absolute "Sir, not I," The cloudy messenger turns me his back, And hums, as who should say, "You'll rue the time That clogs me with this answer." LENNOX. And that well might Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel Fly to the court of England and unfold His message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soon return to this our suffering country Under a hand accursed! LORD. I'll send my prayers with him. Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron. Thunder. Enter the three Witches. FIRST WITCH. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. SECOND WITCH. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. THIRD WITCH. Harpier cries, "'Tis time, 'tis time." FIRST WITCH. Round about the cauldron go; In the poison'd entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Swelter'd venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i' the charmed pot. ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. SECOND WITCH. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg and howlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. THIRD WITCH. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witch's mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat and slips of yew Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse, Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab. Add thereto a tiger's chawdron, For the ingredients of our cawdron. ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. SECOND WITCH. Cool it with a baboon's blood, Then the charm is firm and good. Enter Hecate to the other three Witches. HECATE. O, well done! I commend your pains, And everyone shall share i' the gains. And now about the cauldron sing, Like elves and fairies in a ring, Enchanting all that you put in. Music and a song, "Black spirits." Hecate retires. SECOND WITCH. By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks! Enter Macbeth. MACBETH. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? What is't you do? ALL. A deed without a name. MACBETH. I conjure you, by that which you profess (Howeer you come to know it) answer me: Though you untie the winds and let them fight Against the churches, though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up, Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down, Though castles topple on their warders' heads, Though palaces and pyramids do slope Their heads to their foundations, though the treasure Of nature's germaines tumble all together Even till destruction sicken, answer me To what I ask you. FIRST WITCH. Speak. SECOND WITCH. Demand. THIRD WITCH. We'll answer. FIRST WITCH. Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths, Or from our masters'? MACBETH. Call 'em, let me see 'em. FIRST WITCH. Pour in sow's blood that hath eaten Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten From the murtherer's gibbet throw |
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