The Tragedy of Macbeth · William Shakespeare
Chapter 1
Executive Director's Notes: In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they are presented herein: Barnardo. Who's there? Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold your selfe Bar. Long liue the King * * * * * As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u, above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . . The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day, as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available . . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes, that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous for signing his name with several different spellings. So, please take this into account when reading the comments below made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors that are "not" errors. . . . So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors, here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's play. Michael S. Hart Project Gutenberg Executive Director * * * * * Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't. This was taken from a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can come in ASCII to the printed text.
King. Welcome hither: I haue begun to plant thee, and will labour To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, That hast no lesse deseru'd, nor must be knowne No lesse to haue done so: Let me enfold thee, And hold thee to my Heart Banq. There if I grow, The Haruest is your owne King. My plenteous Ioyes, Wanton in fulnesse, seeke to hide themselues In drops of sorrow. Sonnes, Kinsmen, Thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know, We will establish our Estate vpon Our eldest, Malcolme, whom we name hereafter, The Prince of Cumberland: which Honor must Not vnaccompanied, inuest him onely, But signes of Noblenesse, like Starres, shall shine On all deseruers. From hence to Envernes, And binde vs further to you Macb. The Rest is Labor, which is not vs'd for you: Ile be my selfe the Herbenger, and make ioyfull The hearing of my Wife, with your approach: So humbly take my leaue King. My worthy Cawdor Macb. The Prince of Cumberland: that is a step, On which I must fall downe, or else o're-leape, For in my way it lyes. Starres hide your fires, Let not Light see my black and deepe desires: The Eye winke at the Hand: yet let that bee, Which the Eye feares, when it is done to see. Enter.
King. True worthy Banquo: he is full so valiant, And in his commendations, I am fed: It is a Banquet to me. Let's after him, Whose care is gone before, to bid vs welcome: It is a peerelesse Kinsman. Flourish. Exeunt. Scena Quinta. Enter Macbeths Wife alone with a Letter. Lady. They met me in the day of successe: and I haue learn'd by the perfect'st report, they haue more in them, then mortall knowledge. When I burnt in desire to question them further, they made themselues Ayre, into which they vanish'd. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came Missiues from the King, who all-hail'd me Thane of Cawdor, by which Title before, these weyward Sisters saluted me, and referr'd me to the comming on of time, with haile King that shalt be. This haue I thought good to deliuer thee (my dearest Partner of Greatnesse) that thou might'st not loose the dues of reioycing by being ignorant of what Greatnesse is promis'd thee. Lay it to thy heart and farewell. Glamys thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promis'd: yet doe I feare thy Nature, It is too full o'th' Milke of humane kindnesse, To catch the neerest way. Thou would'st be great, Art not without Ambition, but without The illnesse should attend it. What thou would'st highly, That would'st thou holily: would'st not play false, And yet would'st wrongly winne. Thould'st haue, great Glamys, that which cryes, Thus thou must doe, if thou haue it; And that which rather thou do'st feare to doe, Then wishest should be vndone. High thee hither, That I may powre my Spirits in thine Eare, And chastise with the valour of my Tongue All that impeides thee from the Golden Round, Which Fate and Metaphysicall ayde doth seeme To haue thee crown'd withall. Enter Messenger.
Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twer well, It were done quickly: If th' Assassination Could trammell vp the Consequence, and catch With his surcease, Successe: that but this blow Might be the be all, and the end all. Heere, But heere, vpon this Banke and Schoole of time, Wee'ld iumpe the life to come. But in these Cases, We still haue iudgement heere, that we but teach Bloody Instructions, which being taught, returne To plague th' Inuenter, this euen-handed Iustice Commends th' Ingredience of our poyson'd Challice To our owne lips. Hee's heere in double trust; First, as I am his Kinsman, and his Subiect, Strong both against the Deed: Then, as his Host, Who should against his Murtherer shut the doore, Not beare the knife my selfe. Besides, this Duncane Hath borne his Faculties so meeke; hath bin So cleere in his great Office, that his Vertues Will pleade like Angels, Trumpet-tongu'd against The deepe damnation of his taking off: And Pitty, like a naked New-borne-Babe, Striding the blast, or Heauens Cherubin, hors'd Vpon the sightlesse Curriors of the Ayre, Shall blow the horrid deed in euery eye, That teares shall drowne the winde. I haue no Spurre To pricke the sides of my intent, but onely Vaulting Ambition, which ore-leapes it selfe, And falles on th' other. Enter Lady.
Macb. Good repose the while Banq. Thankes Sir: the like to you. Exit Banquo. Macb. Goe bid thy Mistresse, when my drinke is ready, She strike vpon the Bell. Get thee to bed. Enter. Is this a Dagger, which I see before me, The Handle toward my Hand? Come, let me clutch thee: I haue thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not fatall Vision, sensible To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but A Dagger of the Minde, a false Creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed Braine? I see thee yet, in forme as palpable, As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going, And such an Instrument I was to vse. Mine Eyes are made the fooles o'th' other Sences, Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still; And on thy Blade, and Dudgeon, Gouts of Blood, Which was not so before. There's no such thing: It is the bloody Businesse, which informes Thus to mine Eyes. Now o're the one halfe World Nature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuse The Curtain'd sleepe: Witchcraft celebrates Pale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd Murther, Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe, Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquins rauishing sides, towards his designe Moues like a Ghost. Thou sowre and firme-set Earth Heare not my steps, which they may walke, for feare Thy very stones prate of my where-about, And take the present horror from the time, Which now sutes with it. Whiles I threat, he liues: Words to the heat of deedes too cold breath giues.
Macb. Ile goe no more: I am afraid, to thinke what I haue done: Looke on't againe, I dare not Lady. Infirme of purpose: Giue me the Daggers: the sleeping, and the dead, Are but as Pictures: 'tis the Eye of Childhood, That feares a painted Deuill. If he doe bleed, Ile guild the Faces of the Groomes withall, For it must seeme their Guilt. Enter. Knocke within. Macb. Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when euery noyse appalls me? What Hands are here? hah: they pluck out mine Eyes. Will all great Neptunes Ocean wash this blood Cleane from my Hand? no: this my Hand will rather The multitudinous Seas incarnardine, Making the Greene one, Red. Enter Lady. Lady. My Hands are of your colour: but I shame To weare a Heart so white. Knocke. I heare a knocking at the South entry: Retyre we to our Chamber: A little Water cleares vs of this deed. How easie is it then? your Constancie Hath left you vnattended. Knocke. Hearke, more knocking. Get on your Night-Gowne, least occasion call vs, And shew vs to be Watchers: be not lost So poorely in your thoughts Macb. To know my deed, Knocke. 'Twere best not know my selfe. Wake Duncan with thy knocking: I would thou could'st. Exeunt. Scena Tertia.
Macd. What three things does Drinke especially prouoke? Port. Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleepe, and Vrine. Lecherie, Sir, it prouokes, and vnprouokes: it prouokes the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore much Drinke may be said to be an Equiuocator with Lecherie: it makes him, and it marres him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it perswades him, and dis-heartens him; makes him stand too, and not stand too: in conclusion, equiuocates him in a sleepe, and giuing him the Lye, leaues him Macd. I beleeue, Drinke gaue thee the Lye last Night Port. That it did, Sir, i'the very Throat on me: but I requited him for his Lye, and (I thinke) being too strong for him, though he tooke vp my Legges sometime, yet I made a Shift to cast him. Enter Macbeth. Macd. Is thy Master stirring? Our knocking ha's awak'd him: here he comes Lenox. Good morrow, Noble Sir Macb. Good morrow both Macd. Is the King stirring, worthy Thane? Macb. Not yet Macd. He did command me to call timely on him, I haue almost slipt the houre Macb. Ile bring you to him Macd. I know this is a ioyfull trouble to you: But yet 'tis one Macb. The labour we delight in, Physicks paine: This is the Doore Macd. Ile make so bold to call, for 'tis my limitted seruice.
Exit Macduffe. Lenox. Goes the King hence to day? Macb. He does: he did appoint so Lenox. The Night ha's been vnruly: Where we lay, our Chimneys were blowne downe, And (as they say) lamentings heard i'th' Ayre; Strange Schreemes of Death, And Prophecying, with Accents terrible, Of dyre Combustion, and confus'd Euents, New hatch'd toth' wofull time. The obscure Bird clamor'd the liue-long Night. Some say, the Earth was Feuorous, And did shake Macb. 'Twas a rough Night Lenox. My young remembrance cannot paralell A fellow to it. Enter Macduff. Macd. O horror, horror, horror, Tongue nor Heart cannot conceiue, nor name thee Macb. and Lenox. What's the matter? Macd. Confusion now hath made his Master-peece: Most sacrilegious Murther hath broke ope The Lords anoynted Temple, and stole thence The Life o'th' Building Macb. What is't you say, the Life? Lenox. Meane you his Maiestie? Macd. Approch the Chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon. Doe not bid me speake: See, and then speake your selues: awake, awake, Exeunt. Macbeth and Lenox. Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason, Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolme awake, Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit, And looke on Death it selfe: vp, vp, and see The great Doomes Image: Malcolme, Banquo, As from your Graues rise vp, and walke like Sprights, To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell.
Rosse. And Duncans Horses, (A thing most strange, and certaine) Beauteous, and swift, the Minions of their Race, Turn'd wilde in nature, broke their stalls, flong out, Contending 'gainst Obedience, as they would Make Warre with Mankinde Old man. 'Tis said, they eate each other Rosse. They did so: To th' amazement of mine eyes that look'd vpon't. Enter Macduffe. Heere comes the good Macduffe. How goes the world Sir, now? Macd. Why see you not? Ross. Is't known who did this more then bloody deed? Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slaine Ross. Alas the day, What good could they pretend? Macd. They were subborned, Malcolme, and Donalbaine the Kings two Sonnes Are stolne away and fled, which puts vpon them Suspition of the deed Rosse. 'Gainst Nature still, Thriftlesse Ambition, that will rauen vp Thine owne liues meanes: Then 'tis most like, The Soueraignty will fall vpon Macbeth Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone To be inuested Rosse. Where is Duncans body? Macd. Carried to Colmekill, The Sacred Store-house of his Predecessors, And Guardian of their Bones Rosse. Will you to Scone? Macd. No Cosin, Ile to Fife Rosse. Well, I will thither Macd. Well may you see things wel done there: Adieu Least our old Robes sit easier then our new Rosse. Farewell, Father Old M. Gods benyson go with you, and with those That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes.
Macb. Faile not our Feast Ban. My Lord, I will not Macb. We heare our bloody Cozens are bestow'd In England, and in Ireland, not confessing Their cruell Parricide, filling their hearers With strange inuention. But of that to morrow, When therewithall, we shall haue cause of State, Crauing vs ioyntly. Hye you to Horse: Adieu, till you returne at Night. Goes Fleance with you? Ban. I, my good Lord: our time does call vpon's Macb. I wish your Horses swift, and sure of foot: And so I doe commend you to their backs. Farwell. Exit Banquo. Let euery man be master of his time, Till seuen at Night, to make societie The sweeter welcome: We will keepe our selfe till Supper time alone: While then, God be with you. Exeunt. Lords. Sirrha, a word with you: Attend those men Our pleasure? Seruant. They are, my Lord, without the Pallace Gate Macb. Bring them before vs. Exit Seruant.
To be thus, is nothing, but to be safely thus Our feares in Banquo sticke deepe, And in his Royaltie of Nature reignes that Which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares, And to that dauntlesse temper of his Minde, He hath a Wisdome, that doth guide his Valour, To act in safetie. There is none but he, Whose being I doe feare: and vnder him, My Genius is rebuk'd, as it is said Mark Anthonies was by Caesar. He chid the Sisters, When first they put the Name of King vpon me, And bad them speake to him. Then Prophet-like, They hayl'd him Father to a Line of Kings. Vpon my Head they plac'd a fruitlesse Crowne, And put a barren Scepter in my Gripe, Thence to be wrencht with an vnlineall Hand, No Sonne of mine succeeding: if't be so, For Banquo's Issue haue I fil'd my Minde, For them, the gracious Duncan haue I murther'd, Put Rancours in the Vessell of my Peace Onely for them, and mine eternall Iewell Giuen to the common Enemie of Man, To make them Kings, the Seedes of Banquo Kings. Rather then so, come Fate into the Lyst, And champion me to th' vtterance. Who's there? Enter Seruant, and two Murtherers. Now goe to the Doore, and stay there till we call.
Lady. Come on: Gentle my Lord, sleeke o're your rugged Lookes, Be bright and Iouiall among your Guests to Night Macb. So shall I Loue, and so I pray be you: Let your remembrance apply to Banquo, Present him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue: Vnsafe the while, that wee must laue Our Honors in these flattering streames, And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts, Disguising what they are Lady. You must leaue this Macb. O, full of Scorpions is my Minde, deare Wife: Thou know'st, that Banquo and his Fleans liues Lady. But in them, Natures Coppie's not eterne Macb. There's comfort yet, they are assaileable, Then be thou iocund: ere the Bat hath flowne His Cloyster'd flight, ere to black Heccats summons The shard-borne Beetle, with his drowsie hums, Hath rung Nights yawning Peale, There shall be done a deed of dreadfull note Lady. What's to be done? Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck, Till thou applaud the deed: Come, seeling Night, Skarfe vp the tender Eye of pittifull Day, And with thy bloodie and inuisible Hand Cancell and teare to pieces that great Bond, Which keepes me pale. Light thickens, And the Crow makes Wing toth' Rookie Wood: Good things of Day begin to droope, and drowse, Whiles Nights black Agents to their Prey's doe rowse. Thou maruell'st at my words: but hold thee still, Things bad begun, make strong themselues by ill: So prythee goe with me.
Exeunt. Scena Tertia. Enter three Murtherers. 1. But who did bid thee ioyne with vs? 3. Macbeth 2. He needes not our mistrust, since he deliuers Our Offices, and what we haue to doe, To the direction iust 1. Then stand with vs: The West yet glimmers with some streakes of Day. Now spurres the lated Traueller apace, To gayne the timely Inne, and neere approches The subiect of our Watch 3. Hearke, I heare Horses Banquo within. Giue vs a Light there, hoa 2. Then 'tis hee: The rest, that are within the note of expectation, Alreadie are i'th' Court 1. His Horses goe about 3. Almost a mile: but he does vsually, So all men doe, from hence toth' Pallace Gate Make it their Walke. Enter Banquo and Fleans, with a Torch. 2. A Light, a Light 3. 'Tis hee 1. Stand too't Ban. It will be Rayne to Night 1. Let it come downe Ban. O, Trecherie! Flye good Fleans, flye, flye, flye, Thou may'st reuenge. O Slaue! 3. Who did strike out the Light? 1. Was't not the way? 3. There's but one downe: the Sonne is fled 2. We haue lost Best halfe of our Affaire 1. Well, let's away, and say how much is done. Exeunt. Scaena Quarta. Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.
La. O proper stuffe: This is the very painting of your feare: This is the Ayre-drawne-Dagger which you said Led you to Duncan. O, these flawes and starts (Impostors to true feare) would well become A womans story, at a Winters fire Authoriz'd by her Grandam: shame it selfe, Why do you make such faces? When all's done You looke but on a stoole Macb. Prythee see there: Behold, looke, loe, how say you: Why what care I, if thou canst nod, speake too. If Charnell houses, and our Graues must send Those that we bury, backe; our Monuments Shall be the Mawes of Kytes La. What? quite vnmann'd in folly Macb. If I stand heere, I saw him La. Fie for shame Macb. Blood hath bene shed ere now, i'th' olden time Ere humane Statute purg'd the gentle Weale: I, and since too, Murthers haue bene perform'd Too terrible for the eare. The times has bene, That when the Braines were out, the man would dye, And there an end: But now they rise againe With twenty mortall murthers on their crownes, And push vs from our stooles. This is more strange Then such a murther is La. My worthy Lord Your Noble Friends do lacke you Macb. I do forget: Do not muse at me my most worthy Friends, I haue a strange infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, loue and health to all, Then Ile sit downe: Giue me some Wine, fill full: Enter Ghost.
La. You lacke the season of all Natures, sleepe Macb. Come, wee'l to sleepe: My strange & self-abuse Is the initiate feare, that wants hard vse: We are yet but yong indeed. Exeunt. Scena Quinta. Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecat. 1. Why how now Hecat, you looke angerly? Hec. Haue I not reason (Beldams) as you are? Sawcy, and ouer-bold, how did you dare To Trade, and Trafficke with Macbeth, In Riddles, and Affaires of death; And I the Mistris of your Charmes, The close contriuer of all harmes, Was neuer call'd to beare my part, Or shew the glory of our Art? And which is worse, all you haue done Hath bene but for a wayward Sonne, Spightfull, and wrathfull, who (as others do) Loues for his owne ends, not for you. But make amends now: Get you gon, And at the pit of Acheron Meete me i'th' Morning: thither he Will come, to know his Destinie. Your Vessels, and your Spels prouide, Your Charmes, and euery thing beside; I am for th' Ayre: This night Ile spend Vnto a dismall, and a Fatall end. Great businesse must be wrought ere Noone. Vpon the Corner of the Moone There hangs a vap'rous drop, profound, Ile catch it ere it come to ground; And that distill'd by Magicke slights, Shall raise such Artificiall Sprights, As by the strength of their illusion, Shall draw him on to his Confusion. He shall spurne Fate, scorne Death, and beare His hopes 'boue Wisedome, Grace, and Feare: And you all know, Security Is Mortals cheefest Enemie.
1 Speake 2 Demand 3 Wee'l answer 1 Say, if th'hadst rather heare it from our mouthes, Or from our Masters Macb. Call 'em: let me see 'em 1 Powre in Sowes blood, that hath eaten Her nine Farrow: Greaze that's sweaten From the Murderers Gibbet, throw Into the Flame All. Come high or low: Thy Selfe and Office deaftly show. Thunder. 1. Apparation, an Armed Head. Macb. Tell me, thou vnknowne power 1 He knowes thy thought: Heare his speech, but say thou nought 1 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth: Beware Macduffe, Beware the Thane of Fife: dismisse me. Enough. He Descends. Macb. What ere thou art, for thy good caution, thanks Thou hast harp'd my feare aright. But one word more 1 He will not be commanded: heere's another More potent then the first. Thunder. 2 Apparition, a Bloody Childe. 2 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth Macb. Had I three eares, Il'd heare thee Appar. Be bloody, bold, & resolute: Laugh to scorne The powre of man: For none of woman borne Shall harme Macbeth. Descends. Mac. Then liue Macduffe: what need I feare of thee? But yet Ile make assurance: double sure, And take a Bond of Fate: thou shalt not liue, That I may tell pale-hearted Feare, it lies; And sleepe in spight of Thunder. Thunder 3 Apparation, a Childe Crowned, with a Tree in his hand.
What is this, that rises like the issue of a King, And weares vpon his Baby-brow, the round And top of Soueraignty? All. Listen, but speake not too't 3 Appar. Be Lyon metled, proud, and take no care: Who chafes, who frets, or where Conspirers are: Macbeth shall neuer vanquish'd be, vntill Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunsmane Hill Shall come against him. Descend. Macb. That will neuer bee: Who can impresse the Forrest, bid the Tree Vnfixe his earth-bound Root? Sweet boadments, good: Rebellious dead, rise neuer till the Wood Of Byrnan rise, and our high plac'd Macbeth Shall liue the Lease of Nature, pay his breath To time, and mortall Custome. Yet my Hart Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, if your Art Can tell so much: Shall Banquo's issue euer Reigne in this Kingdome? All. Seeke to know no more Macb. I will be satisfied. Deny me this, And an eternall Curse fall on you: Let me know. Why sinkes that Caldron? & what noise is this? Hoboyes 1 Shew 2 Shew 3 Shew All. Shew his Eyes, and greeue his Hart, Come like shadowes, so depart. A shew of eight Kings, and Banquo last, with a glasse in his hand.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.