That fuch an hideous trumpet calls to parley
The fleepers of the houfe? speak.

Macd. Gentle lady,

'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak. The repetition in a woman's ear

Would murther as it fell.-O Banquo, Banquo!

Enter Banquo.

Our royal master's murther'd.

Lady. Woe, alas !

What, in our house?

Ban. Too cruel, any where.

Macduff, I pr'ythee, contradict thy self,

And fay, it is not fo.

Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Roffe.

Macb. 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;
The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
Is left this vault to brag of.

Enter Malcolme, and Donalbaine.

Don. What is amifs ?

Mach. You are, and do not know't:

The fpring, the head, the fountain of your blood
Is ftopt; the very fource of it is stopt.
Mach. 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 distracted; 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?

3

Mach.

Mach. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temp'rate and furious,

Loyal and neutral in a moment? no man.

The expedition of my violent love

Out-run the paufer, Reason. Here, lay Duncan ;
His filver fkin laced with his golden blood,

And his gah'd Stabs look'd like a breach in Nature,
For Ruin's wafteful entrance; there, the murtherers;
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

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?
Don. What should be spoken here,

Where our Fate, hid within an augre-hole,

May rush, and fieze us? Let's away, our tears
Are not yet brew'd.

Mal. Nor our strong 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 suffer in expofure; let us meet,

And question this moft bloody piece of work,

To know it further. Fears and fcruples fhake us :
In the great hand of God I stand, and thence,
Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight

Of treas'nous malice.

Mach. So do I.

All. So, all.

Mach. 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 falle man does eafie. I'll to England.

Don. To Ireland, I; our feparated fortune

Shall keep us both the fafer; where we are,
D d

VOL. V.

There's

There's daggers in mens files; the near in blood,
The nearer bloody.

Mal. This murderous fhaft, that's shot,
Hath not yet lighted; and our fafest way
Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse;
And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,
But fhift away; there's warrant in that theft,
Which steals it felf when there's no mercy left. [Exeunt.

SCENE, the Outfide of Macbeth's Castle.

T

Enter Roffe, with an old Man.

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,
Threaten this bloody ftage: by th' clock, 'tis day;
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
Is't night's predominance, or the day's fhame,
That darkness does the face of earth intomb,
When living light fhould kiss it?

Old M. 'Tis unnatural,

Even like the Deed that's done. On Tuesday laft,

A faulcon, towring in her pride of place,

Was by a mousing owl hawkt at, and kill'd.

Roffe. And Duncan's horfes, (a thing most strange and certain !)

Beauteous and fwift, the minions of the Race,

(19) And Duncan's Horfes, (a Thing moft frange and certain!) Beauteous and fwift, the Minions of their Race,]

(19)

Turn'd

I am pretty certain, all the Copies have err'd, one after Another, in this Reading and that I have reftor'd the true One. The Poet does not mean, that they were the best of their Breed; but that they were excellent Racers in which Senfe he very poetically calls them, the Minions of the Race. This is a Mode of Expreffion, which he seems very fond of. So, before, in this Play.

Like Valour's Minion, carved out his Passage;

Turn'd wild in nature, broke their ftalls, flung out,
Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would

Make war with man.

Old M. 'Tis faid, they eat each other.

Roffe. They did fo; to the amazement of mine eyes, That look'd upon't.

Enter Macduff.

Here comes the good Macduff.

How goes the world, Sir, now?

Macd. Why, fee you not?

Roffe. Is't known, who did this more than bloody Deed? Macd. Thofe, that Macbeth hath flain.

Roffe. Alas, the day!

What good could they pretend?

Macd. They are suborn'd;

Malcolm, and Donalbaine, the King's two Sons,
Are ftol'n away and fled; which puts upon them
Sufpicion of the Deed.

Roffe. 'Gainft nature still

Thriftlefs ambition! that will ravin up

Thine own life's means.-Then 'tis most like,
The Sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth?

Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone,

To be invefted.

Roffe. Where is Duncan's body?

Macd. Carried to Colmes-bill,

The facred ftorehoufe of his Predeceffors,

And guardian of their bones.

Roffe. Will you to Scone?

Macd. No, Cousin, I'll to Fife.

Roffe. Well, I will thither.

Macd. Well, may you fee things well done there, (adieu ;) Left our old robes fit eafier than our new!

ift. Henry. IV.

Who is fweet Fortune's Minion, and her Pride. And again;

-Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moon.

Roffe. Farewel, Father.

Old M. God's benifon go with you, and with those That would make good of bad, and friends of foes.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE, an Apartment in the Palace.
Enter Banquo.

HOU haft it now; King, Cawdor, Gla-
mis, all

The weird women promis'd; and, I fear,
Thou plaid'ft moft foully for't yet it was faid,
It should not ftand in thy Pofterity;

But that my felf fhould be the root, and father
Of many Kings. If there come truth from them,
(As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine)
Why, by the verities on thee made good,
May they not be my Oracles as well,
And fet me up in hope? but, hush, no more.

Trumpets found. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth, Lenox, Roffe, Lords and Attendants.

Mich. Here's our chief gueft.

Lady. If he had been forgotten,

It had been as a gap in our great Feaft,

And all things unbecoming.

Much. To night we hold a folemn fupper, Sir, And I'll request your prefence.

Ban. Lay your Highness'

Command upon me; to the which, my Duties
Are with a most indiffoluble tye

For