Imatges de pÓgina
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RE-EMINENT, even among the tragic creations of
Shakspere, stands the magnificent " MACBETH;"-

its foundations deep in the darkest recesses of the human heart-its every buttress and pinnacle, "jutty, frieze, and coigne of vantage," radiant with the golden light that streams in prodigal abund

ance from the most poetic of imaginations.

All the constituents of a perfect tragedy are here combined, with a degree of success never probably before attained, and certainly not since. In this great drama, we find incident ever changing, congruous, progressive, and interesting; character richly diversified and exquisitely portrayed; dialogue teeming with every species of excellence; and, to crown all, moral teaching of the highest and purest tendency-not obviously obtruded, like the doctor's drench, but rapturously inhaled without an effort of the will, as the infant derives sustenance from the maternal bosom, unknowing of the great results to which its instincts are subservient. Philosophy delights to dwell on the profound thought, the practical wisdom, evolved from the speakers by the various exigences to which the progress of the plot in turn exposes them; Poetry revels in contemplation of the priceless jewels here collected

to enrich her treasury; while Religion, pointing to the guilt-struck murderer, "listening the fear" of the sleeping grooms (conscious the while that he himself has slept his last), proclaims the poet her beloved ally; and reading her sternest lessons by the hallowed taper of fiction, needs no stronger evidence to warn the waverer from the lures of unholy and inordinate desire.

The "great argument" of "MACBETH" is derived from Holinshed's "HISTORY OF SCOTLAND." The story in itself is highly interesting, and has been expressly pointed out by Buchanan, as forming an eligible subject for the drama. The principal incidents on which the play is founded are briefly stated by the commentators, to this effect:-Malcolm II., King of Scotland, had two daughters, the eldest married to Crinan, father of Duncan (thane of the Isles and western parts of Scotland); and on the death of Malcolm without male issue, Duncan succeeded him. The second daughter of Malcolm married Sinel (thane of Glamis), the father of Macbeth. Duncan married either the daughter or sister of Siward, Earl of Northumberland, and was murdered by his cousin-german Macbeth, in the Castle of Inverness. According to Boethius, this event took place in 1045, in the seventh year of Duncan's reign. Macbeth then usurped the crown, and was himself slain by Macduff, in conformity with the play, in 1061; having thus reigned during the long period of sixteen years. Dramatic justice, however, required that punishment should overtake his crime with swifter wing. In the chronicle, also, Shakspere found hints for the terrific character of Lady Macbeth, who is represented as strongly instigating her husband to the destruction of his sovereign, and as a woman very ambitious, burning in unquenchable desire to bear the name of a Queen." With what surpassing power this rough material has been wrought upon, all can feel, but who can hope adequately to describe?


"MACBETH" was first printed in the original folio (1623). It is generally supposed to have been written in or about 1606. Three years previously, James I. ascended the English throne; and this circumstance possibly turned the poet's attention to Scottish history.

J. O.

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As two spent swimmers, that do cling together,
And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald
(Worthy to be a rebel; for to that
The multiplying villanies of nature

Do swarm upon him) from the western isles
Of kernes and gallowglasses is supplied;
And Fortune, on his damnéd quarrel smiling,
Shewed like a rebel's whore. But all 's too weak;
For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name),
Disdaining fortune, with his brandished steel,
Which smoked with bloody execution,
Like valour's minion, carved out his passage,
Till he faced the slave;

And ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
Till he unseamed him from the nave to the chaps,
And fixed his head upon our battlements.

Dun. O, valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! Sold. As whence the sun 'gins his reflection Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break; So from that spring, whence comfort seemed to

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And mounched, and mounched, and mounched:"Give me," quoth I:

"Aroint thee, witch!" the rump-fed ronyon cries. Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o'the


But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
And, like a rat without a tail,

I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.

2nd Witch. I'll give thee a wind.

1st Witch. Thou art kind.

3rd Witch. And I another.

1st Witch. I myself have all the other;
And the very ports they blow,
All the quarters that they know
I' the shipman's card.

I will drain him dry as hay:
Sleep shall, neither night nor day,
Hang upon his penthouse lid;
He shall live a man forbid:
Weary seven nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine:
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-tossed.
Look what I have.

2nd Witch. Shew me, shew me.

1st Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wrecked as homeward he did come.

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So withered, and so wild in their attire;

That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are on 't?-Live you? or are you aught
That man may question? You seem to understand

By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips. You should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.

Macb. Speak if you can: What are you? 1st Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis !

2nd Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!

3rd Witch. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.

Ban. Good sir, why do you start, and seem to fear

Things that do sound so fair?—I' the name of truth,

Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
Which outwardly ye shew? My noble partner
Ye greet with present grace, and great prediction
Of noble having and of royal hope,

That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not:
If you can look into the seeds of time,
And say which grain will grow and which will not,

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The news of thy success: and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine or his: silenced with that,
In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as hail,
Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
And poured them down before him.

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