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Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:
SCENE V.-INVERNESS. A Room in MACBETH's Castle.
Enter Lady MACBETH, reading a letter. Lady M. They met me in the day of success; and I have learned by the perfectest 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 weird 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 mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what great. ness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell. Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promis'd: yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the 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 valour of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal.
Enter an Attendant.
Atten. The king comes here to-night.
Thou’rt mad to say it:
Atten. So please you, it is true:-our thane is coming: One of my fellows had the speed of him; Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Than would make up his message.
Give him tending, He brings great news.
[Exit Attendant. 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 the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering 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!
Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor!
My dearest love,
And when goes hence?
Macb. We will speak further.
Only look up clear;
SCENE VI.—The same. Before the Castle.
Hautboys. Servants of MACBETH attending.
MACDUFF, Ross, Angus, and Attendants.
This guest of summer,
Enter Lady MACBETH.
See, see, our honour'd hostess !
All our service
Where's the Thane of Cawdor?
Your servants ever
Give me your hand;
SCENE VII.—The same. A Lobby in the Castle. Hautboys and torches. Enter, and pass over, a Sewer,
and divers Servants with dishes and service. Then enter MACBETH.
Macb. If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly. If the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, With his surcease, success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,We'd jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which being taught, return To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips. He's here in double trust: First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed: then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off: And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. - I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself, And falls on the other.
Enter Lady MACBETH,
How now! what news? Lady M. He has almost supp'd: why have you left the
Know you not he has?
Was the hope drunk
What beast was 't, then,
If we should fail ?
We fail !
Bring forth men-children only;