lechery; it makes him, and it mars him; it fets him on, and it takes him off; it perfuades him, and difheartens him; makes him ftand to, and not ftand to; in conclufion, equivocates him into a fleep, and giving him the lie, leaves him.. Macd. I believe, drink gave thee the lie last night. Port. That it did, Sir, i' th' very throat on me; but I requited him for his lie; and, I think, being too ftrong. for him, though he took up my legs fometime, yet I made a fhift to caft him. Macd. Is thy mafter flirring? Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes. Enter Macbeth. Mach. Good-morrow, both. Macd. Is the King ftirring, worthy Thane? Mach. Not yet. Macd. He did command me to call timely on him; I've almost flipt the hour. Mach. I'll bring you to him. Macd. I know, this is a joyful trouble to you: But yet 'tis one. Macb. The labour, we delight in, phyficks pain; This is the door. Macd. I'll make fo bold to call, for 'tis mylimited fervice. Len. Goes the King hence to-day? Macb. He did appoint fo. [Exit Macduff. Len. The night has been unruly; where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down: And, as they fay, Lamentings heard i' th' air, ftrange fcreams of death, And prophefying with accents terrible Of dire combuftion, and confus'd events, New hatch'd to th' woeful time: The obfcure bird clamour'd the live-long night. Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel Enter Enter Macduff. Macd. O horror! horror! horror! Nor tongue, nor heart, cannot conceive, nor name thee-Macb. and Len. What's the matter? Macd. Confufion now hath made his master-piece; Moft facrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence The life o' th' building. Mach. What is't you fay? the life? Len. Mean you his Majefty?. Macd. Approach the chamber, and deftroy your fight With a new Gorgon.-Do not bid me fpeak; See, and then speak yourselves: awake! awake! [Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox. Ring the alarum-bell-murder! and treafon! Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! Shake off this downy fleep, death's counterfeit, And look on death itself-up, up, and fee The great doom's image-Malcolm! Banquo! As from your graves rife up, and walk like fprights, (18) To countenance this horror. Bell rings. Enter Lady Macbeth. Lady. What's the business, That fuch an hideous trumpet calls to parley Macd. Gentle Lady, 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak. The repetition in a woman's ear (18) To countenance this horror. Ring the bell.] I have ventur'd to throw out thefe laft words, as no part of the text. Mards ff had faid at the beginning of his fpeech, Ring out th' alarumbell; but if the bell had rung out immediately, not a word of what be fays could have been diftinguifh'd. Ring the bell, I fay, was a marginal direction in the Prompter's book for him to order the bell to be rung, the minute that Macduff ceafes fpeaking. In proof of this, we may obferve, that the hemiftich ending 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 speech with a broken line? Would Would murder as it fell.-O Banquo, Banquo! Ban. Too cruel, any where. Macduff, I pr'ythee, contradict thy felf, And say, it is not so. Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Roffe. Mach. Had I but dy'd an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a bleffed time: for, from this inftant, There's nothing ferious 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 murder'd. Mal. Oh, by whom? Len. Thofe of his chamber, as it feem'd, had don'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 diftracted; No man's life was to be trufted with them. Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them. Macd. Wherefore did you fo? Macb. Who can be wife, amaz'd, temp'rate and furious, Loyal and neutral in a moment? no man. The expedition of my violent love Out-run the paufer, reafon. Here, lay Duncan; And his gafh'd ftabs look'd like a breach in nature, 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 1 Courage, to make's love known? Lady. Help me hence, ho! Macd. Look to the Lady. Mal. 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, 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 fhake us: Of treas'nous malice. Mach. So do I, All. So, all. Macb. 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 eafy. I'll to England. Don. To Ireland, I; our feparated fortune Shall keep us both the fafer; where we are, Mal. This murderous fhaft, that's shot, Which fteals itself when there's no mercy left. [Exeunt. 3 SCENE, SCENE, the Outfide of Macbeth's Caftle. Old M. T Enter Roffe, with an Old Man. 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, A faulcon, tow'ring in her pride of place, Was by a moufing owl hawkt at, and kill'd. Roffe. And Duncan's horfes, (a thing moft ftrange and certain!) (19) Beauteous and swift, the minions of the race, Turn'd wild in nature, broke their falls, flung out, Contending 'gainft obedience, as they would Make war with man. Old M. 'Tis faid, they eat each other. (19) And Duncan's borfes, (a thing mifi frange 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 restor'd the true one. The poet does not mean, that they were the beft of their breed; but that they were excellent racers: in which fenfe he very poetically calls them, the minions of the race. This is a mode of expreflion, which he seems very fond of. So, before, in this play, Like valour's minion, carved out his paffage, King John. Fortune fhall cull forth Out of one fide ber happy minion. 1. Henry. IV. Who is fweet fortune's minion, and her pride. -Gentlemen of the fhade, minions of the moon. |