she now-What, will these hands ne'er be clean?No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.

Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you sl:ould not.

Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known.

Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh!

Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.

Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body.

Doct. Well, well, well,

Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir.

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which bave walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds.

Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night-gown; look not so pale:-I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on 's grave.

Doct. Even so?

Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's done cannot be undone; To bed, to bed, to bed. [Exit LADY MACBETH. Doct. Will she go now to bed? Gent. Directly.

Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. More needs she the divine than the physician. God, God, forgive us all! Look after her; Remove from her the means of all annoyance, And still keep eyes upon her :-So, good night: My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight: I think, but dare not speak.

Gent.

Good night, good doctor.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Country near Dunsinane. Enter, with drum and colours, MENTETH, CATHNESS, ANGUS, LENOx, and Soldiers.

Ment. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff. Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes Would, to the bleeding and the grim alarm, Excite the mortified man.b

What does the tyrant?

Cuth. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies: Some say he 's mad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule.

Ang. Now does he feel His secret murthers sticking on his hands; Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love: now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe Upon a dwarfish thief.

a Mated-amated-dismayed.

Mortified man-We think, with Warburton, that the poet here means a hermit or religious ascetic,-one indifferent to the concerns of the world, but who would be excited to fight by such " causes of revenge as Macduff comes with.

"

SCENE III-Dunsinane. A Room in the Cast'.

Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants. Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all; Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,

I cannot taint with fear. What 's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus :
"Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman
Shall e'er have power upon thee." Then fly, false
thanes,

And mingle with the English epicures:
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear.
Enter a Servant.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon;
Where gott'st thou that goose look?
Serv. There is ten thousand-

Macb.

Serv.

Geese, villain?

Soldiers, sir.

Macb. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face!
Serv. The English force, so please you.
Macb. Take thy face hence.-Seyton!-I am sick
at heart,

When I behold-Seyton, I say!-This push
Will cheer me ever, or dis-seat me now.
I have liv'd long enough: my way of lifeb
Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Seyton!-

Enter SEYTON.

Sey. What's your gracious pleasure? Macb. What news more! Sey. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported. Macb. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be back u. Give me my armour.

Sey.

"T is not needed yet.

Macb. I'll put it on.

Send out more horses, skire the country round;
Hang those that talk of fear.-Give me mine armour :-
How does your patient, doctor?

Doct.

Not so sick, my lord,

As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, That keep her from her rest.

Macb. Throw physic to the dogs, I 'll none of it.-
Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff:—
Seyton, send out.-Doctor, the thanes fly from me :-
Come, sir, despatch :-If thou couldst, doctor, cast
The water of my land, find her disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
I would applaud thee to the very echo,

That should applaud again.-Pull 't off, I say.-
What rhubarb, senna," or what purgative drug,

Would scour these English hence?-Hearest thou of them?

Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Makes us hear something.

Macb.

Bring it after me.

SCENE V.-Dunsinane. Within the Castle.

The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir
As life were in 't: I have supp'd full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.-Wherefore was that cry?
Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.

Macb. She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.-
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.-

Macb.

Liar, and slave!

[Striking him.
Mess. Let me endure your wrath if 't be not so;
Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.
Macb.

If thou speak'st false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,

I care not if thou dost for me as much.

I pull in resolution; and begin

To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,

That lies like truth: "Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane;"-and now a wood
Comes toward Dunsinane.-Arm, arm, and out!-
If this which he avouches does appear,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here
I'gin to be a-weary of the sun,

And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.-
Ring the alarum-bell:-Blow wind! come wrack!
At least we 'll die with harness on our back. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.-The same. A Plain before the Castle.
Enter, with drums and colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD,
MACDUFF, &c., and their Army, with boughs.

Mal. Now, near enough; your leavy screens throw down,

And show like those you are:-You, worthy uncle,
Shall, with my cousin, your right noble son,

and Soldiers.

Macb. Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still, "They come :" Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie, Till famine, and the ague, eat them up: Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home. What is that noise? [A cry within, of women. Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Mach. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: Senna.-We are not sure about this word. The original rends cyme.

More and less-Shakspere uses these words, as Chaucer ad Spenser use them, for greater and less.

Shall take upon us what else remains to do,
According to our order.

Siw.
Fare you well.-
Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
Let us be beaten if we cannot fight.

a Dusty.-Douce has the following valuable illustration of the passage: "Perhaps no quotation can be better calculated to show the propriety of this epithet than the following graud lines in The Vision of Pierce Plowman,' a work which Snakspeare might have seen :

'Death came drivynge after, and all to dust pashed
Kynges and kaysers, knightes and popes.""

b Monck Mason gives an illustration from Fletcher, which explains the use of pull in :

"All my spirits

As if they had heard my passing beil go for me, Pull in their powers, and give me up to destiny."

Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,

Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. [Exeunt. Alarums continued. SCENE VII.-The same. Another part of the

Plain.

Enter MACBETH.

Macb. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,
But, bear-like, I must fight the course.-What's he
That was not born of woman? Such a one
Am I to fear, or none.

Enter Young SIWARD.
Yo. Siw. What is thy name?
Macb.

Thou 'It be afraid to hear it. Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter

name

Than any is in hell.

Macb.

My name's Macbeth.

For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd,
That palter with us in a double sense;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope.-I 'll not fight with theɛ.
Macd. Then yield thee, coward,

I will not yield,

And live to be the show and gaze o' the time.
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole; and underwrit,
"Here may you see the tyrant."
Macb.
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born,
Yet I will try the last: Before my body
I throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macduff;
And damn'd be him that first cries" Hold, enough."
[Exeunt, fighting

Macd. That way the noise is :-Tyrant, show thy face:
If thou be 'st slain, and with no stroke of mine,
My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
I cannot strike at wretched kernes, whose arms
Are hir'd to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth,
Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge,

I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not.

MALCOLM, Old SIWARD, ROSSE, LENOX, ANGUS, CATHNESS, MENTETH, and Soldiers.

Mal. I would the friends we miss were safe arriv'd Siw. Some must go off; and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

Mal. Macduff is missing, and your noble son. Rosse. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt: He only liv'd but till he was a man;

The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd,
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died.

Rosse: Ay, on the front.

Siw.

render'd:

Mal.

He's worth more sorrow,

And that I'll spend for him.

Siro.

He's worth no more;
They say, he parted well, and paid his score:
And 80, God be with him!-Here comes newer comfort.
Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head.
Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art: Behold, where
stands

The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
That speak my salutation in their minds;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine,-
Hail, king of Scotland!

All.
Hail, king of Scotland! [Flourish.
Mal. We shall not spend a large expense of time,
Before we reckon with your several loves,

And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,-
As calling home our exil'd friends abroad
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
Producing forth the cruel ministers

Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen,
Who, as 't is thought, by self and violent bands
Took off her life;-this, and what needful else
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
We will perform in measure, time, and place:
So thanks to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.
[Flourish Freun