That were most precious to me.-Did heaven look-Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afear'd? What eyes, And braggart with my tongue!-But, gentle heaven, Mal. The night is long, that never finds the day. ACT V. [Exe. 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 have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds. I Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale:-I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave. Doct. Even so? the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. again return to bed; yet all this while in a most More needs she the divine, than the physician.fast sleep. God, God, forgive us all! Look after her; Remove from her the means of all annoyance, And still keep eyes upon her :-So, good night: My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight: think, but dare not speak. Good night, good doctor. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The country near Dunsinane. Enter, with drum and colours, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers. Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, what, at I any time, have you heard her say? Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her. 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. 3 Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by Ang. 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 !2 (1) All pause. (2) Dark. (3) Confounded. Near Birnam wood Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his brother? Len. For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file Ment. Now does he feel (4) A religious; an ascetic. (5) Unbearded. Well, march we on, To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd: [Exeunt, marching. SCENE III.-Dunsinane. A room in the castle. Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and attendants. Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all; Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, And mingle with the English epicures: As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, Macb. Doct. Therein the patient Macb. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.- of them? Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Bring it after me.——— The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon; diers, marching. Geese, villain? When I behold-Seyton, I say!-This push Enter Seyton. Mal. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand It shall be done. Sold. Mal. "Tis his main hope: The time approaches, [Exeunt, marching. SCENE V.-Dunsinane. Within the castle. 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 Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night, Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie, Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight. Till famine, and the ague, eat them up: Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, all breath, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. And beat them backward home. What is that noise? [Exeunt. Alarums continued. [A cry within, of women. SCENE VII.-The same. Another part of the plain. Enter Macbeth. Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Macb. She should have died hereafter; Enter a Messenger. Macb. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, Enter Young Siward. Yo. Siw. What is thy name? a title Macb. I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. [They fight, and Young Siward is slain. Thou wast born of woman. Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly. But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Mess. Gracious my lord, I shall report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do it. Macb. Well, say, sir. Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, If thou speak'st false, Macb. Macd. That way the noise is:-Tyrant, show If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine, I sheath again undeeded. There thou should'st be; render'd: The tyrant's people on both sides do fight; I pull in resolution; and begin And wish the estate o'the world were now undone.- [Exeunt. Macb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die SCENE VI.-The same. A plain before the cas-On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes tle. Enter, with drums and colours, Malcolm. Do better upon them. Old Siward, Macduff, &c. and their army, with boughs. Mal. Now near enough; your leavy screens throw And show like those you are:-You, worthy uncle, Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff, and we, (1) Skin. Fare you well.— (2) Shrivel. Macd. Re-enter Macduff. Turn, hell-hound, turn. Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee: But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd With blood of thine already. Macd. I have no words, My voice is in my sword; thou bloodier villain [They fight. Thou loosest labour: (5) Reported with clamour. As easy may'st thou the entrenchant air1 I bear a charmed life, which must not yield Macd. Despair thy charm; Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, And live to be the show and gaze o'the time. Macb. To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, Retreat. Flourish. Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these, I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought. Mal. Macduff is missing, and your noble son. Rosse. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt: He only liv'd but till he was a man ; The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd Siw. Then he is dead? Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then It hath no end. Siw. Had he his hurts before? Rosse. Aye, on the front. Act V. He's worth more sorrow, Mal. Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art: Behold, King of Scotland, hail! men, In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do, Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone. This play is deservedly celebrated for the propriety of its fiction, and solemnity, grandeur, and variety of its action; but it has no nice discriminations of character; the events are too great to admit the influence of particular dispositions, and the course of the action necessarily determines the conduct of the agents. The danger of ambition is well described; and I know not whether it may not be said, in defence of some parts which now seem improbable, that in Shakspeare's time it was necessary to warn credulity against vain and illusive predictions. The passions are directed to their true end. Lady Why then, God's soldier be he! Macbeth is merely detested; and though the cou rage of Macbeth preserves some esteem, yet every reader rejoices at his fall. Had I as many sons as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death: (1) The air, which cannot be cut. (2) Shuffle. JOHNSON, (3) The kingdom's wealth or ornament. |