Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans: may I govern
To heal Rome's harm, and drive away her woe!
But, gentle people, give me aim a while,
For nature puts me to a heavy task.

Stand all aloof; but, uncle, draw you near,
To fhed obfequious tears upon this trunk.
Oh, take this warm kifs on thy pale cold lips,
Thefe forrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face;
The laft true duties of thy noble fon.

Mar. Ay, tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss,
Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips.
O were the fum of these that I should pay
Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them!

Luc. Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us
To melt in showers; thy grandfire lov'd thee well:
Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee ;
Sung thee afleep, his loving breaft thy pillow.
Many a matter hath he told to thee,

Meet and agreeing with thy infancy;
In that refpect then, like a loving child
Shed yet fome fmall drops from thy tender fpring,
Because kind nature doth require it fo.

Friends fhould affociate friends, in grief and woe.
Bid him farewel, commit him to the grave;
Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.
Boy. O grandfire, grandfire! even with all my heart,
'Would I were dead, fo you did live again-
O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping—
My tears will choke me if I ope my mouth.

SCENE VII Enter Romans with Aaron.

Rom. You fad Andronici, have done with woes. Give fentence on this execrable wretch,

That hath been breeder of these dire events.

Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him. There let him ftand, and rave and cry for food.

If any one relieves or pities him,

For the offence he dies. This is our doom.
Some ftay to fee him faften'd in the earth.

Aar. O, why fhould wrath be mute and fury dumb!I am no baby, I, that with base prayers

I fhould repent the evil I have done.

Ten

Ten thousand worfe, than ever yet I did,
Would I perform, if I might have my will.
If one good deed in all my life I did,

I do repent it from my very foul.

Luc. Some loving friends convey the Emp'ror hence,
And give him burial in his father's grav..
My father and Lavinia fhall forthwith
Be closed in our houfhold's monument.
As for that heinous tygrefs Tamora,

No funeral rites, nor man in mournful weeds,
No mournful bell shall ring her burial;
But throw her forth to beafts and birds of prey.
Her life was beaft-like, and devoid of pity;
And being fo, fhall have like want of pity.
See justice done on Aaron that damn'd Moor,
From whom our heavy haps had their beginning;
Then, afterwards, we'll order well the ftate;
That like events may ne'er it ruinate.

[Exeunt omnes.

VOL. VI.

U.

THE

THE

TRAGEDY OF MACBETH †.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

DUNCAN, King of Scotland.

Young Siward, his fon.

Malcolm, Jons to the King. Seyton, an officer attending on

Donald Bane,

Macbeth.
Son to Macduff.

Doctor.

Lady Macbeth.

Lady Macduff.

Gentlervomen attending on Lady
Macbeth.

Hecate, and three other Witches.
Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Sol-

diers, and Attendants.

The Ghoft of Banquo, and several other Apparitions.

SCENE, in the end of the fourth a&, lies in England; through the reft of the play, in Scotland, and chiefly at Macbeth's cafile.

ACT I. SCENE I.

An open place.

Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches.

x Witch. W HEN fhall we three meet again?

In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

2 Witch. When the hurly-burly's done, When the battle's loft and won.

3 Witch. That will be ere fet of fun.
1 Witch. Where the place?

2 Witch. Upon the heath.

3 Witch. There I go to meet Macbeth.

1 Wch. I come, I come, Grimalkin.

2 Witch,

This is fuppofed to be a true hiftory; taken from Hector

Boetius, and other Scottish chroniclers.

All. Fair is foul, and foul is fair;

Hover through the fog and filthy air.

[They rife from the stage, and fly away.`

SCENE II. Changes to the palace at Forres.

Enter King, Malcolm, Donald Bane, Lenox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain.

King. What bloody man is that? he can report,
As feemeth by his plight, of the revolt
The neweft ftate.

Mal. This is the Serjeant,

Who, like a good and hardy foldier, fought
'Gainft my captivity. Hail, hail, brave friend
Say to the King the knowledge of the broil
As thou didst leave it.

Capt. Doubtful long it ftood;

As two spent fwimmers that do cling together,
And choke their art: the mercilefs Macdonel
(Worthy to be a rebel; for to that
The multiplying villanies of nature

Do fwarm upon him) from the western isles
Of kernes and gallow-glaffes was fupply'd;
And Fortune on his damned quarrel fmiling,
Shew'd like a rebel's whore. But all too weak:
For brave Macbeth, (well he deserves that name),
Difdaining Fortune, with his brandish'd fteel,
Which fmok'd with bloody execution,

Like Valour's minion carved out his paffage,
Till he had fac'd the flave;

Who ne'er fhook hands, nor bid farewel to him,
Till he unfeam'd him from the nape to th' chops,
And fix'd his head upon our battlements.

King. Oh, valiant coufin! worthy Gentleman!
Capt. As whence the fun 'gins his reflection,
Shipwrecking ftorms and direful thunders break;
So from that fpring whence comfort feem'd to come,
Discomfit well'd. Mark, King of Scotland, mark;
No fooger juftice had with valour arm'd,

Compell'd these skipping kernes to trust their heels;
But the Norweyan Lord, furveying 'vantage,

U 2

With

With furbish'd arms, and new fupplies of men,

Began a fresh affault.

King. Difmay'd not this

Our Captains, Macbeth and Banquo ?
Capt. Yes,

As fparrows, eagles; or the hare, the lion.
If I fay footh, I muft report, they were
As cannons overcharg'd with double * cracks,
So they redoubled ftrokes upon the foe:
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
Or memorize + another Golgotha,

I cannot tell

But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.—

King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds: They fmack of honour both. Go, get him furgeons. Enter Roffe and Angus.

But who comes here?

Mal. The worthy Thane of Roffe.

Len. What hafte looks through his eyes?

So fhould he look that feems to speak things ftrange. Roffe. God fave the King!

King. Whence cam'ft thou, worthy Thane?

Roffe. From Fife, great King,

Where the Norweyan banners flout the fky,

And fan our people cold.

Norway, himself with numbers terrible,
Affifted by that most disloyal traitor

The Thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict;
'Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapt in proof,
Confronted him with felf-comparisons,
Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit. To conclude,

The victory fell on us.

King. Great happiness !

Roffe. Now Sweno, Norway's King, craves compofi

Nor would we deign him burial of his men,

double is here used for great, and not for two.

+ memorize, for make.

i. e. that feems as if he would speak.

[tion:

Till

. . gave him as good as he brought, fhew'd he was his equal,