Enter a Servant.

Serv. O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself!

My master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor, Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire;

And ever as it blazed, they threw on him

Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair:
My master preaches patience to him, while
His man with scissars nicks him like a fool:
And, sure, unless you send some present help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer.

Adr. Peace, fool, thy master and his man are here ;

And that is false, thou dost report to us.

Serv. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true; I have not breath'd almost, since I did see it. He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you, To scorch your face, and to disfigure you :

[Cry within. Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress; fly, be gone. Duke. Come, stand by me, fear nothing: Guard with halberds.

Adr. Ah me, it is my husband! Witness you That he is borne about invisible: Even now we hous'd him in the abbey here; And now he's there, past thought of human reason.

Enter Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus. Ant. E. Justice, most gracious duke, oh, grant me justice!

Even for the service that long since I did thee,
When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took
Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood
That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.
Ege. Unless the fear of death doth make me
dote,

I see my son Antipholus, and Dromio.

Ant. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there,

She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife;
That hath abused and dishonour'd me,
Even in the strength and height of injury!
Beyond imagination is the wrong,

That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.
Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.
Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the

doors upon me,

While she with harlots feasted in my house.

Duke. A grievous fault: Say, woman, didst thou so?

Adr. No, my good lord; myself, he, and my sister,

To-day did dine together: So befal my soul,
As this is false, he burdens me withal!

Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night,
But she tells to your highness simple truth!
Ang. O perjur'd woman! they are both forsworn.
In this the madman justly chargeth them.

Ant. E. My liege, I am advised what I say;
Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine,
Nor heady-rash, provok'd with raging ire,
Albeit, my wrongs might make one wiser mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner :
That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witness it, for he was with me then ;
Who parted with me to go fetch a chain,
Promising to bring it to the Porcupine,
Where Balthazar and I did dine together.
Our dinner done, and he not coming thither,
I went to seek him: In the street I met him;
And in his company, that gentleman.
There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down,
That I this day of him receiv'd the chain,
Which, God he knows, I saw not for the which,
He did arrest me with an officer.

I did obey; and sent my peasant home
For certain ducats: He with none return'd.

Then fairly I bespoke the officer,

To go in person with me to my house.

By the way we met

My wife, her sister, and a rabble more
Of vile confederates; along with them
They brought one Pinch; a hungry lean-faced
villain,

A mere anatomy, a mountebank,

A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller;
A needy, hollow-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch
A living dead man: this pernicious slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer:
And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me,
Cries out, I was possess'd: then altogether
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence;
And in a dark and dankish vault at home
There left me and my man, both bound together;
Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
I gain'd my freedom, and immediately
Ran hither to your grace; whom I beseech
To give me ample satisfaction

For these deep shames, and great indignities.
Ang. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with
him;
That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out.

Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or no? Ang. He had, my lord: and when he ran in here,

These people saw the chain about his neck.

Mer. Besides, I will be sworn, these ears of mine Heard you confess, you had the chain of him, After you first forswore it on the mart, And, thereupon I drew my sword on you; And then you fled into this abbey here, From whence, I think, you are come by miracle. Ant. E. I never came within these abbey walls, Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me; I never saw the chain, so help me heaven! And this is false, you burden me withal.

Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this! I think, you all have drank of Circe's cup. If here you hous'd him, here he would have been : If he were mad, he would not plead so coldlyYou say, he dined at home; the goldsmith here Denies that saying:-Sirrah, what say you?

Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her there, at the

I think, you are all mated, or stark mad.

[Exit an Attendant. Ege. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a word,

Haply, I see a friend will save my life,
And pay the sum that may deliver me.

Duke. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt. Ege. Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholus ? And is not that your bondman Dromio?

Dro. E. Within this hour, I was his bondman, sir,

But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords:
Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound.
Ege. I am sure, you both of you remember me.
Dro. E. Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you;
For lately we were bound, as you are now.
You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir?
Ege. Why look you strange on me? you know
me well.

Ant. E. I never saw you in my life, till now.
Ege. Oh grief hath chang'd me, since you saw

me last;

Siward, Earl of Northumberland, general of the

English forces.

A Porter.

Lady Macbeth.

Lady Macduff.

A Scotch Doctor.

An old Man.

Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth.
Hecate, and three Witches.

Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, Attendants, and Messengers.

ACT I.

ning.

All. Paddock calls :-Anon.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair :
Hover through the fog and filthy air.

[Witches vanish. SCENE II.-A Camp near Fores. Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Soldier. Dun. What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state.

Mal.

This is the sergeant, Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought 'Gainst my captivity :-Hail, brave friend! Say to the king the knowledge of the broil, As thou didst leave it.

Sol.
Doubtfully it stood;
As two spent swimmers, that do cling together,
And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald
(Worthy to be a rebel; or, to that,
The multiplying villainies of nature

Do swarm upon him,) from the western isles
Of Kernes and Gallowglasses is supplied;
And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,
Show'd like a rebel's whore: But all's too weak:
For brave Macbeth, (well he deserves that name,)
Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,
Which smok'd with bloody execution,
Like valour's minion,

Carv'd out his passage, till he fac'd the slave;
And ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,
And fix'd his head upon our battlements.

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

Began a fresh assault.

Dun.

Dismay'd not this Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo ? Sold.

Yes;

As sparrows, eagles; or the hare, the lion.
If I say sooth, I must report they were
As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks;
So they

Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe:

Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, Or memorize another Golgotha,

Rosse. That now Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition: Nor would we deign him burial of his men, Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes' inch, Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive

Our bosom interest :-Go, pronounce his death,
And with his former title greet Macbeth.
Rosse. I'll see it done.

Dun. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath

SCENE IV.-Fores. A Room in the Palace. Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, and Attendants.

Dun. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet return'd?

Mal. My liege, They are not yet come back. But I have spoke With one that saw him die: who did report, That very frankly he confess'd his treasons; Implor'd your highness' pardon; and set forth A deep repentance: nothing in his life Became him, like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless trifle.

Dun.

There's no art,
To find the mind's construction in the face:
He was a gentleman on whom I built
An absolute trust.-O worthiest cousin!

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.
The sin of my ingratitude even now
Was heavy on me: Thou art so far before,
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
To overtake thee. 'Would thou hadst less deserv'd;
That the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
More is thy due than more than all can pay.
Macb. The service and the loyalty I owe,
In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
Is to receive our duties: and our duties

Are to your throne and state, children, and ser

vants;

Which do but what they should, by doing every thing

Safe toward your love and honour.

Dun.

Welcome hither:

[Aside.

For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires!
Let not light see my black and deep desires:
The eye wink at the hand! yet let that be,
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. [Exit.
Dun. True, worthy Banquo; he is full so va-
liant ;

And in his commendations I am fed ;
It is a banquet to me. Let us after him,
Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:
It is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. Exeunt.
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 mightest not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ig norant of what greatness 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 na-

ture;

It is too full o' the milk of human kindness,
To catch the nearest way: Thou would'st be great;
Art not without ambition; but without

The illness should attend it. What thou would'st highly,

That would'st thou holily; would'st not play false, And yet would'st wrongly win: thou'd'st 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.—What is your
tidings?