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He brings great news. The raven himself is hoarse,
[Exit Attendant.
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, 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 murd'ring ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances

You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall3 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!

Enter MACBEeth.

Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!
Thy letters have transported me beyond

1 "That tend on mortal thoughts." Mortal and deadly were synonymous.

2 Lady Macbeth's purpose was to be effected by action. "To keep peace between the effect and purpose," means "to delay the execution of her purpose, to prevent its proceeding to effect." Sir Wm. Davenant's strange alteration of this play sometimes affords a reasonably good commentary upon it. Thus in the present instance:

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My blood, stop all passage to remorse;

That no relapses into mercy may

Shake my design, nor make it fall before
'Tis ripened to effect."

3 To pall, from the Latin pallio, to wrap, to invest, to cover or hide as with a mantle or cloak.

4 Drayton, in his Mortimeriados, 1596, has an expression resembling this:

"The sullen night in mistie RUGGE is wrapped."

And in his Polyolbion, which was not published till 1612, we again find it:

"Thick vapors that like ruggs still hang the troubled air.”

On this passage there is a long criticism in the Rambler, No. 168; to which Johnson, in his notes, refers the reader.

This ignorant present, and I feel now

The future in the instant.

Macb.

Duncan comes here to-night.

Lady M.

My dearest love,

And when goes hence?

O, never

Macb. To-morrow,—as he purposes.

Lady M.

Shall sun that morrow see!

Your face, my thanc, is as a book, where men
May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under it. He that's coming
Must be provided for; and you shall put

This night's great business into my despatch;
Which shall to all our nights and days to come,
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
Macb. We will speak further.
Lady M.

To alter favor1 ever is to fear.

Only look up clear;

Leave all the rest to me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. The same. Before the Castle. Hautboys. Servants of Macbeth attending.

Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, BANQUO, LENox, MACDUFF, ROSSE, ANGUS, and Attendants.

Dun. This castle hath a pleasant seat: the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself

Unto our gentle senses.

Ban.
This guest of summer,
The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,
By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath
Smells wooingly here. No jutty, frieze,
Buttress, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird
Hath made his pendent bed, and procreant cradle :

1 Favor is countenance.

2 i. e. convenient corner.

Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, The air is delicate.1

Dun.

Enter LADY МАСВЕТН.

See, see! our honored hostess!

The love that follows us, sometime is our trouble,

Which still we thank as love.
How you shall bid God yield
And thank us for your trouble.
Lady M.

Herein I teach you us for your pains,

All our service,
In every point twice done, and then done double,
Were poor and single business, to contend
Against those honors, deep and broad, wherewith
Your majesty loads our house. For those of old,
And the late dignities heaped up to them,
We rest your hermits.3

Dun.

Where's the thane of Cawdor? We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose To be his purveyor: but he rides well:

And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, We are your guest to-night.

1 "This short dialogue," says sir Joshua Reynolds, "has always ap peared to me a striking instance of what in painting is termed repose. The conversation very naturally turns upon the beauty of the castle's situation, and the pleasantness of the air; and Banquo, observing the martlets' nests in every recess of the cornice, remarks, that where those birds most breed and haunt, the air is delicate. The subject of this quiet and easy conversation gives that repose so necessary to the mind after the tumultuous bustle of the preceding scenes, and perfectly contrasts the scene of horror that immediately succeeds."

2 The explanation by Steevens of this obscure passage seems the best which has been offered:-" Marks of respect importunately shown are sometimes troublesome, though we are still bound to be grateful for them as indications of sincere attachment. If you pray for us on account of the trouble we create in your house, and thank us for the molestations we bring with us, it must be on such a principle. Herein I teach you, that the inconvenience you suffer is the result of our affection; and that you are therefore to pray for us, or thank us only as far as prayers and thanks can be deserved for kindnesses that fatigue, and honors that oppress. You are, in short, to make your acknowledgments for intended respect and love, however irksome our present mode of expressing them may have proved."To bid is here used in the Saxon sense of to pray. God yield us, is God

eward us.

3 i. e. we, as hermits, or beadsmen, shall ever pray for you.

Lady M.

Your servants ever

Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt,' To make their audit at your highness' pleasure,

Still to return your own.

Give me your hand:

Dun.
Conduct me to mine host; we love him highly,
And shall continue our graces towards him.

By your leave, hostess.

[Exeunt

SCENE VII. The same. A Room in the Castle. Hautboys and torches.

Enter, and pass over the stage, a Sewer, and divers Servants with dishes and service.

MACBETH.

Then enter

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.3-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 poisoned chalice

1 In compt, subject to accompt.

2 A sewer, an officer so called from his placing the dishes on the table. Asseour (French), from asseoir, to place.

3 This passage has been variously explained. The following is probably its meaning: Twere well it were done quickly, if, when 'tis done, it were done (or at an end); and that no sinister consequences would ensue. If the assassination, at the same time that it puts an end to Duncan's life, could make success certain, and that I might enjoy the crown unmolested, we'd jump the life to come, i. e. hazard or run the risk of what may happen in a future state. To trammel up was to confine or tie up. Surcease is cessation. "To surcease or to cease from doing something; supersedeo (Lat.); cesser (Fr.)”—Baret.

4 To commend, was anciently used in the sense of the Latin commendo, to commit, to address, to direct, to recommend.

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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 cherubim, horsed
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'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other-How now, what news?

Enter LADY MACBETH.

Lady M. He has almost supped. Why have you left the chamber?

Macb. Hath he asked for me?

Lady M.

Know you not, he has? Macb. We will proceed no further in this business. He hath honored me of late; and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people,

Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
Not cast aside so soon.

Lady M.

Was the hope drunk,

Wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since!
And wakes it now to look so green and pale
At what it did so freely? From this time,
Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard

To be the same in thine own act and valor,

As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that

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1 "The sightless couriers of the air," are what the Poet elsewhere calls the viewless winds.

2 Which o'erleaps itself. It has been proposed to read, "which o'erleaps its selle," i. e. saddle (Fr.).

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