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Enter Banquo.

Our royal master's murther'd.

Lady. Woe, alas!

What, in our houfe?

Ban. Too cruel, any where.

Macduff, I pr'ythee, contradict thy felf,
And fay, it is not fo.

Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Roffe.

Macb. Had I but dy'd an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a bleffed time: for, from this inftant, There's nothing serious in mortality;

All is but toys; Renown, and Grace, is dead;
The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
Is left this vault to brag of.

Enter Malcolm, and Donalbain.

Don. What is amifs ?

Mach. You are, and do not know't :

The fpring, the head, the fountain of your blood
Is ftopt; the very fource of it is stopt.

Macd. Your royal father's murther'd.

Mal. Oh, by whom?

Len. Thofe of his chamber, as it feem'd, had done't;; Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood, So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found Upon their pillows; they ftar'd and were distracted;

No man's life was to be trufted with them.

Mucb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury,

That I did kill them.

Macd. Wherefore did you fo?

Mach. Who can be wife, amaz'd, temp'rate and furious,

Loyal and neutral in a moment? no man.

ing Macduff's fpeech, and That beginning Lady Macbeth's, make up a compleat Verfe. Now if Ring the Bell had been a part of the Text, can we imagine the Poet would have begun the Lady's fpeech with a broken Line?

N. 4.

The

The expedition of my violent love

Out-run the paufer, Reafon. Here, lay Duncan ;
His filver skin laced with his golden blood,

And his gafh'd Stabs look'd like a breach in Nature,
For Ruin's wasteful entrance; there, the murtherers;
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage, to make's love known?

Lady. Help me hence, ho!

Macd. Look to the lady.

Mat. Why do we hold our tongues,

[Seeming to faint.

That most may claim this argument for ours?
Don. What should be fpoken here,

Where our Fate, hid within an augre-hole,

May rush, and feize us? Let's away, our tears
Are not yet brew'd.

Mal. Nor our ftrong forrow on

The foot of motion.

Ban. Look to the lady;

[Lady Macbeth is carried out.

And when we have our naked frailties hid,

That fuffer in expofure, let us meet,

And question this moft bloody piece of work,
To know it further. Fears and fcruples shake us..
In the great hand of God I stand, and thence,
Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight

Of treas'nous malice.

Mach. So do I.

All. So, all.

Mab. Let's briefly put on manly readiness,

And meet i' th' hall together.

All. Well contented.

[Exeunt

Mal. What will you do? let's not confort with them:

To fhew an unfelt forrow, is an office

Which the falfe man does eafie. I'll to England.

Don. To Ireland, I; our feparated fortune
Shall keep us both the fafer; where we are,
There's daggers in men's fmiles; the near in blood,
The nearer bloody.

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Mal. This murtherous fhaft, that's fhot, Hath not yet lighted; and our fafeft way Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse;, And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, But fhift away; there's warrant in that theft, Which steals it felf when there's no mercy left. [Exeunt.

SCENE, the Outfide of Macbeth's Castle.

Old Man

Enter Roffe, with an old Man.

T

Hreefcore and ten I can remember well, Within the volume of which time, I've feen

Hours dreadful, and things ftrange; but this fore night: Hath trifled former knowings.

Roffe. Ah, good father,

Thou feeft, the heav'ns, as troubled with man's act,,
Threaten this bloody ftage: by th' clock, 'tis day;›
And yet dark night ftrangles the travelling lamp:.
Is't night's predominance, or the day's fhame,
That darkness does the face of earth intomb,
When living light should kiss it?

Old M. 'Tis unnatural,

Even like the Deed that's done. On Tuesday laft,
A faulcon, towring in her pride of place,
Was by a moufing owl hawkt at, and kill'd.

Roffe.. And Duncan's horses, (a thing most strange and certain!) (12)

Beauteous and swift, the minions of the Race,

(12) And Duncan's Horses, (a Thing most strange and certain!)` Beauteous and fwift, the Minions of their Race.]

I am pretty certain, all the Copies have err'd, one after another, in this Reading: and that I have reftor'd the true One. The Poet does not mean, that they were the best of their Breed; but that they were excellent Racers: in which Senfe he very poetically calls them, the Minions of the Race. This is a Mode of Expreffion, which he seems very fond of.

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Turn'd wild in nature, broke their ftalls, flung out,
Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would

Make war with man.

Old M. 'Tis faid, they eat each other.

Roffe. They did fo; to the amazement of mine eyes, That look'd upon't.

Enter Macduff.

Here comes the good Macduff.

How goes the world, Sir, now?

Macd. Why, fee you not?

Roffe. Is't known, who did this more than bloody Deed?

Macd. Thofe, that Macbeth hath flain.

Roffe. Alas, the day!

What good could they pretend ?

Macd. They were fuborn'd;

Malcolm, and Donalbain, the King's two Sons,
Are ftol'n away and fled; which puts upon them..
Sufpicion of the Deed.

Roffe. 'Gainft nature still;

Thriftlefs ambition! that wilt ravin up

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Thine own life's means Then 'tis moft like,
The Sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth?
Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone
To be invested.

Roffe. Where is Duncan's body?

Macd. Carried to Colmes-hill,

The facred ftorehoufe of his Predeceffors,

And guardian of their bones.

Roffe. Will you to Scone?

Macd. No, Coufin, I'll to Fife.

Roffe. Well, I will thither.

Macd. Well, may you fee things well done there,

(adieu ;)

Left our old robes fit easier than our new!

Roffe. Farewel, Father.

Old M. God's benifon go with you, and with thofe

That would make good of bad, and friends of foes.

[Exeunt.

ACT

A C T III.

SCENE, an Apartment in the Palace.
Enter BANQUO.

T

HOU haft it now; King, Cawdor, Glamis, all
The weird women promis'd; and, I fear,

Thou plaid'ft moft foully for't: yet it was said, It should not ftand in thy Pofterity;

But that myself should be the root, and father
Of many Kings. If there come truth from them,
(As upon thee, Macbeth, their fpeeches shine)
Why, by the verities on thee made good,
May they not be my Oracles as well,

And fet me up in hope? but, hush, no more.

Trumpets found. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth, Lenox, Roffe, Lords and Attendants.

Macb. Here's our chief gueft.

Lady. If he had been forgotten,

It had been as a gap in our great Feast,

And all things unbecoming.

Macb. To night we hold a folemn fupper, Sir,

And I'll request your prefence.

Ban. Lay your Highness'

Command upon me; to the which, my Duties.

Are with a most indissoluble tye

For ever knit.

Mach. Ride you this afternoon?

Ban. Ay, my good lord.

Macb. We fhould have elfe defir'd

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Your good advice (which ftill hath been both grave
And profperous) in this day's Council; but
We'll take to morrow. Is it far you ride?
Ban. As far, my lord, as will fill up the time

Twixt

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