Shakespeare's First Folio · William Shakespeare
FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF MACBETH.
Guild. Nay, good my Lord, this courtesie is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholsome answer, I will doe your Mothers command'ment: if not, your pardon, and my returne shall bee the end of my Businesse Ham. Sir, I cannot Guild. What, my Lord? Ham. Make you a wholsome answere: my wits diseas'd. But sir, such answers as I can make, you shal command: or rather you say, my Mother: therfore no more but to the matter. My Mother you say Rosin. Then thus she sayes: your behauior hath stroke her into amazement, and admiration Ham. Oh wonderfull Sonne, that can so astonish a Mother. But is there no sequell at the heeles of this Mothers admiration? Rosin. She desires to speake with you in her Closset, ere you go to bed Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our Mother. Haue you any further Trade with vs? Rosin. My Lord, you once did loue me Ham. So I do still, by these pickers and stealers Rosin. Good my Lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do freely barre the doore of your owne Libertie, if you deny your greefes to your Friend Ham. Sir I lacke Aduancement Rosin. How can that be, when you haue the voyce of the King himselfe, for your Succession in Denmarke? Ham. I, but while the grasse growes, the Prouerbe is something musty. Enter one with a Recorder.
O the Recorder. Let me see, to withdraw with you, why do you go about to recouer the winde of mee, as if you would driue me into a toyle? Guild. O my Lord, if my Dutie be too bold, my loue is too vnmannerly Ham. I do not well vnderstand that. Will you play vpon this Pipe? Guild. My Lord, I cannot Ham. I pray you Guild. Beleeue me, I cannot Ham. I do beseech you Guild. I know no touch of it, my Lord Ham. 'Tis as easie as lying: gouerne these Ventiges with your finger and thumbe, giue it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most excellent Musicke. Looke you, these are the stoppes Guild. But these cannot I command to any vtterance of hermony, I haue not the skill Ham. Why looke you now, how vnworthy a thing you make of me: you would play vpon mee; you would seeme to know my stops: you would pluck out the heart of my Mysterie; you would sound mee from my lowest Note, to the top of my Compasse: and there is much Musicke, excellent Voice, in this little Organe, yet cannot you make it. Why do you thinke, that I am easier to bee plaid on, then a Pipe? Call me what Instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play vpon me. God blesse you Sir. Enter Polonius.
King. Thankes deere my Lord. Oh my offence is ranke, it smels to heauen, It hath the primall eldest curse vpon't, A Brothers murther. Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharpe as will: My stronger guilt, defeats my strong intent, And like a man to double businesse bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect; what if this cursed hand Were thicker then it selfe with Brothers blood, Is there not Raine enough in the sweet Heauens To wash it white as Snow? Whereto serues mercy, But to confront the visage of Offence? And what's in Prayer, but this two-fold force, To be fore-stalled ere we come to fall, Or pardon'd being downe? Then Ile looke vp, My fault is past. But oh, what forme of Prayer Can serue my turne? Forgiue me my foule Murther: That cannot be, since I am still possest Of those effects for which I did the Murther. My Crowne, mine owne Ambition, and my Queene: May one be pardon'd, and retaine th' offence? In the corrupted currants of this world, Offences gilded hand may shoue by Iustice, And oft 'tis seene, the wicked prize it selfe Buyes out the Law; but 'tis not so aboue, There is no shuffling, there the Action lyes In his true Nature, and we our selues compell'd Euen to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To giue in euidence. What then? What rests? Try what Repentance can. What can it not? Yet what can it, when one cannot repent? Oh wretched state! Oh bosome, blacke as death! Oh limed soule, that strugling to be free, Art more ingag'd: Helpe Angels, make assay: Bow stubborne knees, and heart with strings of Steele, Be soft as sinewes of the new-borne Babe, All may be well. Enter Hamlet.
Cap. I will doo't, my Lord For. Go safely on. Enter. Enter Queene and Horatio. Qu. I will not speake with her Hor. She is importunate, indeed distract, her moode will needs be pittied Qu. What would she haue? Hor. She speakes much of her Father; saies she heares There's trickes i'th' world, and hems, and beats her heart, Spurnes enuiously at Strawes, speakes things in doubt, That carry but halfe sense: Her speech is nothing, Yet the vnshaped vse of it doth moue The hearers to Collection; they ayme at it, And botch the words vp fit to their owne thoughts, Which as her winkes, and nods, and gestures yeeld them, Indeed would make one thinke there would be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much vnhappily Qu. 'Twere good she were spoken with, For she may strew dangerous coniectures In ill breeding minds. Let her come in. To my sicke soule (as sinnes true Nature is) Each toy seemes Prologue, to some great amisse, So full of Artlesse iealousie is guilt, It spill's it selfe, in fearing to be spilt. Enter Ophelia distracted. Ophe. Where is the beauteous Maiesty of Denmark Qu. How now Ophelia? Ophe. How should I your true loue know from another one? By his Cockle hat and staffe, and his Sandal shoone Qu. Alas sweet Lady: what imports this Song? Ophe. Say you? Nay pray you marke. He is dead and gone Lady, he is dead and gone, At his head a grasse-greene Turfe, at his heeles a stone. Enter King.
Qu. Nay but Ophelia Ophe. Pray you marke. White his Shrow'd as the Mountaine Snow Qu. Alas, looke heere my Lord Ophe. Larded with sweet Flowers: Which bewept to the graue did not go, With true-loue showres King. How do ye, pretty Lady? Ophe. Well, God dil'd you. They say the Owle was a Bakers daughter. Lord, wee know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your Table King. Conceit vpon her Father Ophe. Pray you let's haue no words of this: but when they aske you what it meanes, say you this: To morrow is S[aint]. Valentines day, all in the morning betime, And I a Maid at your Window, to be your Valentine. Then vp he rose, & don'd his clothes, & dupt the chamber dore, Let in the Maid, that out a Maid, neuer departed more King. Pretty Ophelia Ophe. Indeed la? without an oath Ile make an end ont. By gis, and by S[aint]. Charity, Alacke, and fie for shame: Yong men wil doo't, if they come too't, By Cocke they are too blame. Quoth she before you tumbled me, You promis'd me to Wed: So would I ha done by yonder Sunne, And thou hadst not come to my bed King. How long hath she bin thus? Ophe. I hope all will be well. We must bee patient, but I cannot choose but weepe, to thinke they should lay him i'th' cold ground: My brother shall knowe of it, and so I thanke you for your good counsell. Come, my Coach: Goodnight Ladies: Goodnight sweet Ladies: Goodnight, goodnight. Enter.
Ophe. They bore him bare fac'd on the Beer, Hey non nony, nony, hey nony: And on his graue raines many a teare, Fare you well my Doue Laer. Had'st thou thy wits, and did'st perswade Reuenge, it could not moue thus Ophe. You must sing downe a-downe, and you call him a-downe-a. Oh, how the wheele becomes it? It is the false Steward that stole his masters daughter Laer. This nothings more then matter Ophe. There's Rosemary, that's for Remembraunce. Pray loue remember: and there is Paconcies, that's for Thoughts Laer. A document in madnesse, thoughts & remembrance fitted Ophe. There's Fennell for you, and Columbines: ther's Rew for you, and heere's some for me. Wee may call it Herbe-Grace a Sundaies: Oh you must weare your Rew with a difference. There's a Daysie, I would giue you some Violets, but they wither'd all when my Father dyed: They say, he made a good end; For bonny sweet Robin is all my ioy Laer. Thought, and Affliction, Passion, Hell it selfe: She turnes to Fauour, and to prettinesse Ophe. And will he not come againe, And will he not come againe: No, no, he is dead, go to thy Death-bed, He neuer wil come againe. His Beard as white as Snow, All Flaxen was his Pole: He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away mone, Gramercy on his Soule. And of all Christian Soules, I pray God. God buy ye.
Say. Hee shall Sir, and't please him. There's a Letter for you Sir: It comes from th' Ambassadours that was bound for England, if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is. Reads the Letter. Horatio, When thou shalt haue ouerlook'd this, giue these Fellowes some meanes to the King: They haue Letters for him. Ere we were two dayes old at Sea, a Pyrate of very Warlicke appointment gaue vs Chace. Finding our selues too slow of Saile, we put on a compelled Valour. In the Grapple, I boorded them: On the instant they got cleare of our Shippe, so I alone became their Prisoner. They haue dealt with mee, like Theeues of Mercy, but they knew what they did. I am to doe a good turne for them. Let the King haue the Letters I haue sent, and repaire thou to me with as much hast as thou wouldest flye death. I haue words to speake in your eare, will make thee dumbe, yet are they much too light for the bore of the Matter. These good Fellowes will bring thee where I am. Rosincrance and Guildensterne, hold their course for England. Of them I haue much to tell thee, Farewell. He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet. Come, I will giue you way for these your Letters, And do't the speedier, that you may direct me To him from whom you brought them. Enter.
King. Pluck them asunder Qu. Hamlet, Hamlet Gen. Good my Lord be quiet Ham. Why I will fight with him vppon this Theme. Vntill my eielids will no longer wag Qu. Oh my Sonne, what Theame? Ham. I lou'd Ophelia; fortie thousand Brothers Could not (with all there quantitie of Loue) Make vp my summe. What wilt thou do for her? King. Oh he is mad Laertes, Qu. For loue of God forbeare him Ham. Come show me what thou'lt doe. Woo't weepe? Woo't fight? Woo't teare thy selfe? Woo't drinke vp Esile, eate a Crocodile? Ile doo't. Dost thou come heere to whine; To outface me with leaping in her Graue? Be buried quicke with her, and so will I. And if thou prate of Mountaines; let them throw Millions of Akers on vs; till our ground Sindging his pate against the burning Zone, Make Ossa like a wart. Nay, and thou'lt mouth, Ile rant as well as thou Kin. This is meere Madnesse: And thus awhile the fit will worke on him: Anon as patient as the female Doue, When that her Golden Cuplet are disclos'd; His silence will sit drooping Ham. Heare you Sir: What is the reason that you vse me thus? I lou'd you euer; but it is no matter: Let Hercules himselfe doe what he may, The Cat will Mew, and Dogge will haue his day. Enter.
Osr. Shall I redeliuer you ee'n so? Ham. To this effect Sir, after what flourish your nature will Osr. I commend my duty to your Lordship Ham. Yours, yours; hee does well to commend it himselfe, there are no tongues else for's tongue Hor. This Lapwing runs away with the shell on his head Ham. He did Complie with his Dugge before hee suck't it: thus had he and mine more of the same Beauty that I know the drossie age dotes on; only got the tune of the time, and outward habite of encounter, a kinde of yesty collection, which carries them through & through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and doe but blow them to their tryalls: the Bubbles are out Hor. You will lose this wager, my Lord Ham. I doe not thinke so, since he went into France, I haue beene in continuall practice; I shall winne at the oddes: but thou wouldest not thinke how all heere about my heart: but it is no matter Hor. Nay, good my Lord Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kinde of gain-giuing as would perhaps trouble a woman Hor. If your minde dislike any thing, obey. I will forestall their repaire hither, and say you are not fit Ham. Not a whit, we defie Augury; there's a speciall Prouidence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come: if it bee not to come, it will bee now: if it be not now; yet it will come; the readinesse is all, since no man ha's ought of what he leaues. What is't to leaue betimes? Enter King, Queene, Laertes and Lords, with other Attendants with Foyles, and Gauntlets, a Table and Flagons of Wine on it.
Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is't my Lord? Osr. How is't Laertes? Laer. Why as a Woodcocke To mine Sprindge, Osricke, I am iustly kill'd with mine owne Treacherie Ham. How does the Queene? King. She sounds to see them bleede Qu. No, no, the drinke, the drinke. Oh my deere Hamlet, the drinke, the drinke, I am poyson'd Ham. Oh Villany! How? Let the doore be lock'd. Treacherie, seeke it out Laer. It is heere Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slaine, No Medicine in the world can do thee good. In thee, there is not halfe an houre of life; The Treacherous Instrument is in thy hand, Vnbated and envenom'd: the foule practise Hath turn'd it selfe on me. Loe, heere I lye, Neuer to rise againe: Thy Mothers poyson'd: I can no more, the King, the King's too blame Ham. The point envenom'd too, Then venome to thy worke. Hurts the King. All. Treason, Treason King. O yet defend me Friends, I am but hurt Ham. Heere thou incestuous, murdrous, Damned Dane, Drinke off this Potion: Is thy Vnion heere? Follow my Mother. King Dyes. Laer. He is iustly seru'd. It is a poyson temp'red by himselfe: Exchange forgiuenesse with me, Noble Hamlet; Mine and my Fathers death come not vpon thee, Nor thine on me. Dyes.
Ham. Heauen make thee free of it, I follow thee. I am dead Horatio, wretched Queene adiew, You that looke pale, and tremble at this chance, That are but Mutes or audience to this acte: Had I but time (as this fell Sergeant death Is strick'd in his Arrest) oh I could tell you. But let it be: Horatio, I am dead, Thou liu'st, report me and my causes right To the vnsatisfied Hor. Neuer beleeue it. I am more an Antike Roman then a Dane: Heere's yet some Liquor left Ham. As th'art a man, giue me the Cup. Let go, by Heauen Ile haue't. Oh good Horatio, what a wounded name, (Things standing thus vnknowne) shall liue behind me. If thou did'st euer hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicitie awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in paine, To tell my Storie. March afarre off, and shout within. What warlike noyse is this? Enter Osricke. Osr. Yong Fortinbras, with conquest come fro[m] Poland To th' Ambassadors of England giues this warlike volly Ham. O I dye Horatio: The potent poyson quite ore-crowes my spirit, I cannot liue to heare the Newes from England, But I do prophesie th' election lights On Fortinbras, he ha's my dying voyce, So tell him with the occurrents more and lesse, Which haue solicited. The rest is silence. O, o, o, o.
Lear. Kent, on thy life no more Kent. My life I neuer held but as pawne To wage against thine enemies, nere feare to loose it, Thy safety being motiue Lear. Out of my sight Kent. See better Lear, and let me still remaine The true blanke of thine eie Lear. Now by Apollo, Kent. Now by Apollo, King Thou swear'st thy Gods in vaine Lear. O Vassall! Miscreant Alb. Cor. Deare Sir forbeare Kent. Kill thy Physition, and thy fee bestow Vpon the foule disease, reuoke thy guift, Or whil'st I can vent clamour from my throate, Ile tell thee thou dost euill Lea. Heare me recreant, on thine allegeance heare me; That thou hast sought to make vs breake our vowes, Which we durst neuer yet; and with strain'd pride, To come betwixt our sentences, and our power, Which, nor our nature, nor our place can beare; Our potencie made good, take thy reward. Fiue dayes we do allot thee for prouision, To shield thee from disasters of the world, And on the sixt to turne thy hated backe Vpon our kingdome: if on the tenth day following, Thy banisht trunke be found in our Dominions, The moment is thy death, away. By Iupiter, This shall not be reuok'd, Kent. Fare thee well King, sith thus thou wilt appeare, Freedome liues hence, and banishment is here; The Gods to their deere shelter take thee Maid, That iustly think'st, and hast most rightly said: And your large speeches, may your deeds approue, That good effects may spring from words of loue: Thus Kent, O Princes, bids you all adew, Hee'l shape his old course, in a Country new. Enter.
Glou. Thinke you so? Bast. If your Honor iudge it meete, I will place you where you shall heare vs conferre of this, and by an Auricular assurance haue your satisfaction, and that without any further delay, then this very Euening Glou. He cannot bee such a Monster. Edmond seeke him out: winde me into him, I pray you: frame the Businesse after your owne wisedome. I would vnstate my selfe, to be in a due resolution Bast. I will seeke him Sir, presently: conuey the businesse as I shall find meanes, and acquaint you withall Glou. These late Eclipses in the Sun and Moone portend no good to vs: though the wisedome of Nature can reason it thus, and thus, yet Nature finds it selfe scourg'd by the sequent effects. Loue cooles, friendship falls off, Brothers diuide. In Cities, mutinies; in Countries, discord; in Pallaces, Treason; and the Bond crack'd, 'twixt Sonne and Father. This villaine of mine comes vnder the prediction; there's Son against Father, the King fals from byas of Nature, there's Father against Childe. We haue seene the best of our time. Machinations, hollownesse, treacherie, and all ruinous disorders follow vs disquietly to our Graues. Find out this Villain, Edmond, it shall lose thee nothing, do it carefully: and the Noble & true-harted Kent banish'd; his offence, honesty. 'Tis strange.
Bast. Spake you with him? Edg. I, two houres together Bast. Parted you in good termes? Found you no displeasure in him, by word, nor countenance? Edg. None at all, Bast. Bethink your selfe wherein you may haue offended him: and at my entreaty forbeare his presence, vntill some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure, which at this instant so rageth in him, that with the mischiefe of your person, it would scarsely alay Edg. Some Villaine hath done me wrong Edm. That's my feare, I pray you haue a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower: and as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to heare my Lord speake: pray ye goe, there's my key: if you do stirre abroad, goe arm'd Edg. Arm'd, Brother? Edm. Brother, I aduise you to the best, I am no honest man, if ther be any good meaning toward you: I haue told you what I haue seene, and heard: But faintly. Nothing like the image, and horror of it, pray you away Edg. Shall I heare from you anon? Enter. Edm. I do serue you in this businesse: A Credulous Father, and a Brother Noble, Whose nature is so farre from doing harmes, That he suspects none: on whose foolish honestie My practises ride easie: I see the businesse. Let me, if not by birth, haue lands by wit, All with me's meete, that I can fashion fit. Enter.
Scena Tertia. Enter Gonerill, and Steward. Gon. Did my Father strike my Gentleman for chiding of his Foole? Ste. I Madam Gon. By day and night, he wrongs me, euery howre He flashes into one grosse crime, or other, That sets vs all at ods: Ile not endure it; His Knights grow riotous, and himselfe vpbraides vs On euery trifle. When he returnes from hunting, I will not speake with him, say I am sicke, If you come slacke of former seruices, You shall do well, the fault of it Ile answer Ste. He's comming Madam, I heare him Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please, You and your Fellowes: I'de haue it come to question; If he distaste it, let him to my Sister, Whose mind and mine I know in that are one, Remember what I haue said Ste. Well Madam Gon. And let his Knights haue colder lookes among you: what growes of it no matter, aduise your fellowes so, Ile write straight to my Sister to hold my course; prepare for dinner. Exeunt. Scena Quarta. Enter Kent. Kent. If but as will I other accents borrow, That can my speech defuse, my good intent May carry through it selfe to that full issue For which I raiz'd my likenesse. Now banisht Kent, If thou canst serue where thou dost stand condemn'd, So may it come, thy Master whom thou lou'st, Shall find thee full of labours.
Lear. What two Crownes shall they be? Foole. Why after I haue cut the egge i'th' middle and eate vp the meate, the two Crownes of the egge: when thou clouest thy Crownes i'th' middle, and gau'st away both parts, thou boar'st thine Asse on thy backe o're the durt, thou hadst little wit in thy bald crowne, when thou gau'st thy golden one away; if I speake like my selfe in this, let him be whipt that first findes it so. Fooles had nere lesse grace in a yeere, For wisemen are growne foppish, And know not how their wits to weare, Their manners are so apish Le. When were you wont to be so full of Songs sirrah? Foole. I haue vsed it Nunckle, ere since thou mad'st thy Daughters thy Mothers, for when thou gau'st them the rod, and put'st downe thine owne breeches, then they For sodaine ioy did weepe, And I for sorrow sung, That such a King should play bo-peepe, And goe the Foole among. Pry'thy Nunckle keepe a Schoolemaster that can teach thy Foole to lie, I would faine learne to lie Lear. And you lie sirrah, wee'l haue you whipt Foole. I maruell what kin thou and thy daughters are, they'l haue me whipt for speaking true: thou'lt haue me whipt for lying, and sometimes I am whipt for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind o' thing then a foole, and yet I would not be thee Nunckle, thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides, and left nothing i'th' middle; heere comes one o'the parings. Enter Gonerill.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.