Len. May it please your highness sit? [The Ghost of BANQUO rises, and sits in MACBETH'S place. Macb. Here had we now our country's honour roof'd, Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present; Rosse. His absence, sir, Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your highness To grace us with your royal company? Macb. The table's full. Len. Macb. Where? Len. Here's a place reserv'd, sir. Here, my lord. What is't that moves your highness? Macb. Which of you have done this? Lords. What, my good lord! Macb. Thou can'st not say, I did it: never shake Thy gory locks at me. Rosse. Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not well. Lady M. Sit, worthy friends :-my lord is often thus, And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat; The fit is momentary; upon a thought* He will again be well: If much you note him, Lady M. O proper stuff: This the very painting of your fear: This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said, Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws ‡, and starts, (Impostors to true fear) would well become A woman's story, at a winter's fire, Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces? When all's done, You look but on a stool. *As quick as thought. + Sudden gusts. + Prolong his suffering. Macb. Pr'ythee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you? Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.- Lady M. [Ghost disappears. What! quite unmann'd in folly? Macb. If I stand here, I saw him. Fie, for shame! Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal; [time, Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd Lady M. My worthy lord, Your noble friends do lack you. I do forget: Do not muse* at me, my most worthy friends; I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, love and health to all; Then I'll sit down: -Give me some wine, fill full: I drink to the general joy of the whole table, [Ghost rises. And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss; Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst, And all to all†. Lords. Our duties, and the pledge. Macb. Avaunt! and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with! Lady M. Think of this, good peers, * Wonder. ti. e. All good wishes to all, But as a thing of custom; 'tis no other; Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, Lady M. You have displac'd the mirth, broke the Macb. Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe ‡, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine are blanch'd with fear. Rosse. What sights, my lord? Lady M. I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse; Question enrages him: at once, good night: Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once. Len. Attend his majesty! Lady M. Good night, and better health A kind good night to all! [Exeunt Lords and Attendants. Macb. It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood: Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak; Augurs, and understood relations, have [forth By magot-pies §, and choughs, and rooks, brought The secret'st man of blood. * Forbid. + Pass over. + Possess. § Magpies. I CONJURE you, by that which you profess, Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure MALCOLM'S CHARACTER OF HIMSELF. Mal. But I have none: The king-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, I have no relish of them: but abound * Frothy. + Tumble. + Laid flat by the wind or rain. § Seeds which have begun to sprout. In the division of each several crime, Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. Macd. O Scotland! Scotland! Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak: I am as I have spoken. Macd. Fit to govern! No, not to live.-O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant, bloody-scepter'd, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again? By his own interdiction stands accurs'd, And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal father Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! Have banish'd me from Scotland.-O, my breast, Mal. Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts No less in truth, than life: my first false speaking |