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, 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; 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 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 ; And his gafh'd Stabs look'd like a breach in Nature, 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? Where our Fate, hid within an augre-hole, May rush, and feize us? Let's away, our tears 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, 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 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,, Old M. 'Tis unnatural, Even like the Deed that's done. On Tuesday laft, 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. Turn'd wild in nature, broke their ftalls, flung out, 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, Roffe. 'Gainft nature still; Thriftlefs ambition! that wilt ravin up Thine own life's means Then 'tis moft like, 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. T HOU haft it now; King, Cawdor, Glamis, all 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 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 Your good advice (which ftill hath been both grave Twixt |