I will advise you where to plant yourselves;
Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time,
The moment on 't; for 't must be done to-night,
And something from the palace; always thought,
That I require a clearness: and with him
(To leave no rubs nor botches in the work),
Fleance his son, that keeps him company,
Whose absence is no less material to me

Than is his father's, must embrace the fate
Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart;
I'll come to you anon.

2nd Mur.
We are resolved, my lord.
Macb. I'll call upon you straight; abide
within.

It is concluded:-Banquo, thy soul's flight,
If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.

it:
She'll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice
Remains in danger of her former tooth.
But let the frame of things disjoint,
Both the worlds suffer,

Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep
In the affliction of these terrible dreams
That shake us nightly: better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie
In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well;

Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
Can touch him further.

This is the very painting of your fear:
This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts
(Impostors to true fear) would well become
A woman's story, at a winter's fire,
Authorised by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all 's done,
You look but on a stool.

Macb. Pr'y thee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you?

Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.—
If charnel-houses and our graves must send
Those that we bury back, our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites. [Ghost disappears.
Lady M.
What! quite unmanned in folly?
Macb. If I stand here, I saw him.
Fy, for shame!

Lady M.

Macb. Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee!

Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with!
Lady M.
But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.

Think of this, good peers,

Macb. What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The armed rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger;
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble: or, be alive again,
And dare me to the desert with thy sword;
If trembling I inhibit, then protest me
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!
[Ghost disappears.

Unreal mockery, hence!-Why, so: being gone,
I am a man again.-Pray you, sit still.
Lady M. You have displaced the mirth, broke
the good meeting,

With most admired disorder.

Macb. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person,

At our great bidding?
Lady M.
Did you send to him, sir?
Macb. I hear it by the way; but I will send:
There's not a one of them, but in his house
I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow

SCENE V.-The Heath. Thunder.

Enter HECATE, meeting the three Witches.

1st Witch. Why, how now, Hecate? you angerly.

look

Hec. 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 called to bear my part,
Or shew 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 ere it come to ground:
And that, distilled by magic sleights,
Shall raise such artificial sprights,
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.

SONG [within].

Come away, come away, &c.

Hark, I am called; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Exit. 1st Witch. Come, let's make haste; she 'll soon be back again. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-Fores. A Room in the Palace.

Enter LENOX and another Lord. Len. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,

Which can interpret further: only, I say, Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan

Was pitied of Macbeth :-marry, he was dead:
And the right-valiant Banquo walked too late;
Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleance
killed,

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? damnéd 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 't would have angered any heart alive, To hear the men deny it. 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 't were to kill a father: so should Fleance. But peace!-for from broad words, and 'cause he failed

His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear
Macduff lives in disgrace: sir, can you tell
Where he bestows himself?

The son of Duncan,

Lord.
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 honours;
All which we pine for now: and this report
Hath so exasperate the King, that he
Prepares for some attempt of war.
Sent he to Macduff?

Len.

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."

And that well might

Len. 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!