ACT 1
Scene 5
...a peerless kinsman.
Enter Macbeth’s Wife, alone, with a letter.
reading the letter
They met me in the
day of success, and I have learned by the perfect’st
report they have more in them than mortal knowledge.
When I burned in desire to question them further, they
made themselves air, into which they vanished.
Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it came missives
from the King, who all-hailed me “Thane of Cawdor,”
by which title, before, these Weïrd Sisters saluted me
and referred me to the coming on of time with “Hail,
king that shalt be.” This have I thought good to deliver
thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou
might’st not lose the dues of rejoicing by being ignorant
of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy
heart, and farewell.
Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be
What thou art promised. Yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full o’ th’ milk of human kindness
To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great,
Art not without ambition, but without
The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly,
That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false
And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou ’dst have, great Glamis,
That which cries “Thus thou must do,” if thou have it,
And that which rather thou dost fear to do,
Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither,
That I may pour my spirits in thine ear
And chastise with the valor of my tongue
All that impedes thee from the golden round,
Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem
To have thee crowned withal.
Enter Messenger.
What is your tidings?
...comes here tonight.
Thou ’rt mad to say it.
Is not thy master with him, who, were ’t so,
Would have informed for preparation?
...up his message.
Give him tending.
He brings great news. The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood.
Stop up th’ access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
Th’ effect and it. Come to my woman’s breasts
And take my milk for gall, you murd’ring ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature’s mischief. Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark
To cry “Hold, hold!”
Enter Macbeth.
Great Glamis, worthy Cawdor,
Greater than both by the all-hail hereafter!
Thy letters have transported me beyond
This ignorant present, and I feel now
The future in the instant.
...comes here tonight.
And when goes hence?
...as he purposes.
O, never
Shall sun that morrow see!
Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue. Look like th’ innocent flower,
But be the serpent under ’t. He that’s coming
Must be provided for; and you shall put
This night’s great business into my dispatch,
Which shall to all our nights and days to come
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
...will speak further.
Only look up clear.
To alter favor ever is to fear.
Leave all the rest to me.
They exit.
Scene 6
...air is delicate.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
...for your trouble.
All our service,
In every point twice done and then done double,
Were poor and single business to contend
Against those honors deep and broad wherewith
Your Majesty loads our house. For those of old,
And the late dignities heaped up to them,
We rest your hermits.
...your guest tonight.
Your servants ever
Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in compt
To make their audit at your Highness’ pleasure,
Still to return your own.
...me your hand.
Taking her hand.
...your leave, hostess.
They exit.
Scene 7
...on th’ other—
Enter Lady Macbeth.
...now, what news?
He has almost supped. Why have you left the chamber?
...asked for me?
Know you not he has?
...aside so soon.
Was the hope drunk
Wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since?
And wakes it now, to look so green and pale
At what it did so freely? From this time
Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard
To be the same in thine own act and valor
As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that
Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life
And live a coward in thine own esteem,
Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,”
Like the poor cat i’ th’ adage?
...more is none.
What beast was ’t, then,
That made you break this enterprise to me?
When you durst do it, then you were a man;
And to be more than what you were, you would
Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place
Did then adhere, and yet you would make both.
They have made themselves, and that their fitness now
Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know
How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me.
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums
And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you
Have done to this.
...we should fail—
We fail?
But screw your courage to the sticking place
And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep
(Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journey
Soundly invite him), his two chamberlains
Will I with wine and wassail so convince
That memory, the warder of the brain,
Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
A limbeck only. When in swinish sleep
Their drenchèd natures lies as in a death,
What cannot you and I perform upon
Th’ unguarded Duncan? What not put upon
His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt
Of our great quell?
...have done ’t?
Who dares receive it other,
As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar
Upon his death?
...doth know.
They exit.
ACT 2
Scene 2
...or to hell.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold.
What hath quenched them hath given me fire. Hark!—Peace.
It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman,
Which gives the stern’st good-night. He is about it.
The doors are open, and the surfeited grooms
Do mock their charge with snores. I have drugged their possets,
That death and nature do contend about them
Whether they live or die.
...there? what, ho!
Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,
And ’tis not done. Th’ attempt and not the deed
Confounds us. Hark!—I laid their daggers ready;
He could not miss ’em. Had he not resembled
My father as he slept, I had done ’t.
Enter Macbeth with bloody daggers.
My husband?
...hear a noise?
I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.
Did not you speak?
... When?
Now.
...As I descended?
Ay.
...th’ second chamber?
Donalbain.
...a sorry sight.
A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
...Again to sleep.
There are two lodged together.
...“God bless us.”
Consider it not so deeply.
...in my throat.
These deeds must not be thought
After these ways; so, it will make us mad.
...in life’s feast.
What do you mean?
...sleep no more.”
Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,
You do unbend your noble strength to think
So brainsickly of things. Go get some water
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.—
Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
They must lie there. Go, carry them and smear
The sleepy grooms with blood.
...I dare not.
Infirm of purpose!
Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead
Are but as pictures. ’Tis the eye of childhood
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
I’ll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
For it must seem their guilt.
She exits with the daggers. Knock within.
...green one red.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
My hands are of your color, but I shame
To wear a heart so white.
Knock.
I hear a knocking
At the south entry. Retire we to our chamber.
A little water clears us of this deed.
How easy is it, then! Your constancy
Hath left you unattended.
Knock.
Hark, more knocking.
Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us
And show us to be watchers. Be not lost
So poorly in your thoughts.
...thou couldst.
They exit.
Scene 3
...bell. Bell rings.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
What’s the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak!
...royal master’s murdered.
Woe, alas!
What, in our house?
...’s love known?
Help me hence, ho!
...to the lady.
Lady Macbeth is assisted to leave.
ACT 3
Scene 1
...hush, no more.
Sennet sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth, Lennox, Ross, Lords, and Attendants.
...our chief guest.
If he had been forgotten,
It had been as a gap in our great feast
And all-thing unbecoming.
...be with you.
Lords and all but Macbeth and a Servant exit.
Scene 2
...it out tonight.
Enter Macbeth’s Lady and a Servant.
Is Banquo gone from court?
...returns again tonight.
Say to the King I would attend his leisure
For a few words.
...Madam, I will.
Naught’s had, all’s spent,
Where our desire is got without content.
’Tis safer to be that which we destroy
Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
Enter Macbeth.
How now, my lord, why do you keep alone,
Of sorriest fancies your companions making,
Using those thoughts which should indeed have died
With them they think on? Things without all remedy
Should be without regard. What’s done is done.
...touch him further.
Come on, gentle my lord,
Sleek o’er your rugged looks. Be bright and jovial
Among your guests tonight.
...what they are.
You must leave this.
...his Fleance lives.
But in them nature’s copy’s not eterne.
...of dreadful note.
What’s to be done?
...go with me.
They exit.
Scene 4
...much is done.
Banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Ross, Lennox, Lords, and Attendants.
...the hearty welcome.
They sit.
...require her welcome.
Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends,
For my heart speaks they are welcome.
...hear ourselves again.
My royal lord,
You do not give the cheer. The feast is sold
That is not often vouched, while ’tis a-making,
’Tis given with welcome. To feed were best at home;
From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony;
Meeting were bare without it.
...is not well.
Sit, worthy friends. My lord is often thus
And hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep seat.
The fit is momentary; upon a thought
He will again be well. If much you note him
You shall offend him and extend his passion.
Feed and regard him not.Drawing Macbeth aside.
Are you a man?
...appall the devil.
O, proper stuff!
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,
Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all’s done,
You look but on a stool.
...maws of kites.
What, quite unmanned in folly?
...I saw him.
Fie, for shame!
...a murder is.
My worthy lord,
Your noble friends do lack you.
...and the pledge.
They raise their drinking cups.
...dost glare with.
Think of this, good peers,
But as a thing of custom. ’Tis no other;
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.
...you sit still.
You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting
With most admired disorder.
...my lord?
I pray you, speak not. He grows worse and worse.
Question enrages him. At once, good night.
Stand not upon the order of your going,
But go at once.
...Attend his Majesty.
A kind good night to all.
...is the night?
Almost at odds with morning, which is which.
...our great bidding?
Did you send to him, sir?
...may be scanned.
You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
...young in deed.
They exit.
ACT 5
Scene 1
...confirm my speech.
Enter Lady Macbeth with a taper.
...of an hour.
Yet here’s a spot.
...the more strongly.
Out, damned spot, out, I say! One. Two.
Why then, ’tis time to do ’t. Hell is murky. Fie, my
lord, fie, a soldier and afeard? What need we fear
who knows it, when none can call our power to
account? Yet who would have thought the old man
to have had so much blood in him?
...you mark that?
The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is
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.
...she has known.
Here’s the smell of the blood still. All
the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little
hand. O, O, O!
...in their beds.
Wash your hands. Put on your nightgown.
Look not so pale. I tell you yet again, Banquo’s
buried; he cannot come out on ’s grave.
... Even so?
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.
Lady Macbeth exits.