Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with Drum and Colours, 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.

Then he is dead?

Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause
of sorrow

Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end.

Rosse. Ay, on the front.

Had he his hurts before?

Why then, God's soldier be he! Had I as many sons as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death: And so his knell is knoll'd.


He's worth more sorrow,

And that I'll spend for him.

He's worth no more;
They say, he parted well, and paid his score:
So, God be with him!-Here comes newer comfort.

Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH'S Head on a Pole.

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!


King of Scotland, hail! [Flourish. Mal. We shall not spend a large expence of time, Before we reckon with your several loves, And make us even with you. My thanes and kins


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 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
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. Exeunt.

5thy kingdom's pearl,] Thy kingdom's pearl means thy kingdom's wealth, or rather ornament.

This play is deservedly celebrated for the propriety of its fictions, and solemnity, grandeur, and variety of its action; but it has no nice discriminations of character; the events are too great to admit the influence of particular dispositions, and the course of the action necessarily determines the conduct of the agents.

The danger of ambition is well described; and I know not whether it may not be said, in defence of some parts which now seem improbable, that, in Shakspeare's time, it was necessary to warn credulity against vain and illusive predictions.

The passions are directed to their true end. Lady Macbeth is merely detested; and though the courage of Macbeth preserves some esteem, yet every reader rejoices at his fall. JOHNSON.

THE following Songs are found in Sir William D'Avenant's alteration of this play, printed in 1674. The first and second of them were, I believe, written by him, being introduced at the end of the second Act, in a scene of which he undoubtedly was the author. Of the other song, which is sung in the third Act, the first words (Come away) are in the original copy of Macbeth, and the whole is found at length in Middleton's play, entitled The Witch, which has been lately printed from a manuscript in the collection of Major Pearson. Whether this song was written by Shakspeare, and omitted, like many others, in the printed copy, cannot now be ascertained. MALONE.


1 Witch. Speak, sister, speak; is the deed done?
2 Witch. Long ago, long ago:
Above twelve glasses since have run.

3 Witch. Ill deeds are seldom slow;
Nor single following crimes on former wait:
The worst of creatures fastest propagate.
Many more murders must this one ensue,
As if in death were propagation too.

2 Witch. He will

2 Witch. Agreed.

3 Witch. Agreed.


1 Witch. He shall

3 Witch. He must spill much more blood; And become worse, to make his title good. 1 Witch. Now let's dance.

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4 Witch. Agreed.

Chor. We should rejoice when good kings bleed. When cattle die, about we go;

What then, when monarchs perish, should we do?


Let's have a dance upon the heath;
We gain more life by Duncan's death.
Sometimes like brinded cats we shew,
Having no musick but our mew:

Sometimes we dance in some old mill,
Upon the hopper, stones, and wheel,
To some old saw, or bardish rhyme,
Where still the mill-clack does keep time.
Sometimes about an hollow tree,
Around, around, around dance we:
Thither the chirping cricket comes,
And beetle, singing drowsy hums:
Sometimes we dance o'er fens and furze,
To howls of wolves, and barks of curs:
And when with none of those we meet,
We dance to the echoes of our feet.
At the night-raven's dismal voice,
Whilst others tremble, we rejoice;
And nimbly, nimbly dance we still,
To the echoes from an hollow hill.




A kiss, a coll, a sip of blood;
And why thou stay'st so long, I muse,
Since the air's so sweet and good.

[Within.] Hecate, Hecate, Hecate! O come away!
Hec. Hark, I am call'd, my little spirit, see,
Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.

[Within.] Come away, Hecate, Hecate! O come away!
Hec. I come, I come, with all the speed I may,
With all the speed I may.
Where's Stadling?

2. Here. [within.]
Hec. Where's Puckle?
3. Here; [within.]

And Hopper too, and Helway too.

We want but you, we want but you:
Come away, make up the count.

Hec. I will but 'noint, and then I mount:
I will but 'noint, &c.

[Within.] Here comes down one to fetch his dues, [A Machine with Malkin in it descends.

Hec. O, art thou come? What news? [Within.] All goes fair for our delight: Either come, or else refuse.


Hec. Now I'm furnish'd for the flight;

[Hecate places herself in the Machine.

Now I go, and now I fly,
Malkin, my sweet spirit, and I.
O, what a dainty pleasure's this,
To sail i'the air,

While the moon shines fair;

To sing, to toy, to dance, and kiss!
Over woods, high rocks, and mountains;
Over hills, and misty fountains;
Over steeples, towers, and turrets,
We fly by night 'mongst troops of spirits.
No ring of bells to our ears sounds,
No howls of wolves, nor yelps of hounds;
No, not the noise of water's breach,
Nor cannons' throat our height can reach.

[Hecate ascends.

1 Witch. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again. 2 Witch. But whilst she moves through the foggy air, Let's to the cave, and our dire charms prepare.


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