Lays blame upon his promife. Pleas't your Highness To grace us with your royal company? Mach. The table's full. Len. Here's a place reserv'd, Sir. Macb. Where? Len. Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your Highness? Macb. Which of you have done this? [Starting. Macb. Thou can'ft not say, I did it: never shake Thy goary locks at me. Roffe. Gentlemen, rise; his Highness is not well. Lady. Sit worthy friends, my lord is often thus, And hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep feat. The Fit is momentary, on a thought He will again be well. If much you note him, [To Macbeth afide. Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on That, Which might appal the Devil. Lady. O proper ftuff! This is the very painting of your fear; This is the air-drawn-dagger, which, you faid, [Afide. Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself! Macb. Pr'ythee, fee there! Behold! look! lo! how fay you? Pointing to the Ghoft. Why, what care I? if thou can'ft nod, speak too.— Thofe, that we bury, back; our Monuments [The Ghoftvanishes Lady. What? quite unmann'd in folly? Macb. Macb. If I ftand here, I saw him. Lady. Fie, for fhame! [time, Mach. Blood hath been shed ere now, i'th' olden *Ere human Statute purg'd the gen'ral weal; Ay, and fince too, Murders have been perform'd Too terrible for th' ear: the times have been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end: but now they rife again With twenty mortal Murders on their, crowns, And push us from our ftools; this is more ftrange Than fuch a murder is. fall! Do not muse at me, my moft worthy friends, Lords. Our Duties, and the Pledge, [The Ghoft rifes again. Macb. Avaunt, and quit my fight! Let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; Lady. Think of this, good Peers, But as a thing of cuftom; 'tis no other; Approach thou like the rugged Ruffian bear, Ere human Statute purg'd the gentle weal :] Thus all the Editions I have reform'd the Text, gen'ral Weal: And it is a very fine Periphrafis to fignify, erè civil Societies were inftituted. P 2 Warb: Take Take any fhape but That, and my firm nerves The baby of a girl. Hence, terrible shadow! With most admir'd diforder. Can't fuch things be And overcome us like a Summer's cloud, Without our fpecial wonder? Macb. You make me ftrange Ev'n to the difpofition that I owe, When now I think, you can behold fuch fights; Roffe. What fights, my lord? [worfe; Lady. I pray you, fpeak not; he grows worfe and Question enrages him: at once good night. Stand not upon the Order of your Going. But go at once. Len. Good night, and better health Attend his Majefty! Lady. Good night, to all. [Exeunt Lords. Macb. It will have blood, they fay; blood will have blood; Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak; Augurs, that understood relations, have By magpies, and by choughs, and rooks brought forth The fecret'ft man of blood.What is the night? Lady. Almoft at odds with morning, which is which. Macb. How fay'ft thou, that Macduff denies his perAt our great bidding? Lady. Did you fend to him, Sir? Macb. I hear it by the way; but I will send: There's not a Thane of them, but in his houfe [fon, I I keep a fervant fee'd. I will to-morrow (Betimes I will) unto the weyward fifters : More fhall they fpeak; for now I'm bent to know, Stept in fo far, that, should I wade no more, Strange things I have in head, that will to hand; abufe Is the initiate fear; that wants hards use: We're yet but young in Deed. [Exeunt. Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecate. Witch. WHY, how now, Hecat, you look an gerly. Hec. Have I not reafon, Beldams, as you are? In riddles; and affairs of death? And I, the miftrefs of your Charms, And, which is worfe, all you have done Spightful and wrathful, who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you. But make amends now; get you gone, And at the pit of Acheron Meet me i' th' morning: thither he P 3 Your Your Charms and every thing befide. I am for th' Air: this night I'll spend Great business must be wrought ere noon : There hangs a vap'rous drop, profound; Is mortal's chiefeft enemy. [Mufic and a Song. Hark, I am call'd; my little fpirit, fee, [Sing within. Come away, come away &c, I Witch. Come, let's make hafte, fhe'll foon be back again. SCENE VII. Changes to a Chamber. Enter Lenox, and another Lord. Len. MY [Exeunt. Y former fpeeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret farther: only, I fay, [can Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Dun Was pitied of Macbeth marry, he was dead : And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too late. Whom, you may say, if't please, Fleance kill'd, To kill their gracious father? damned fact ! That |