Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Macbeth (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Anthony Dawson
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-528-5

    Copyright Anthony Dawson. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Anthony Dawson
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Macbeth (Folio 1, 1623)

    138The Tragedie of Macbeth.

    See, and then speake your selues: awake, awake,
    Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox.
    Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason,
    830Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolme awake,
    Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit,
    And looke on Death it selfe: vp, vp, and see
    The great Doomes Image: Malcolme, Banquo,
    As from your Graues rise vp, and walke like Sprights,
    835To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell.
    Bell rings. Enter Lady.
    Lady. What's the Businesse?
    That such a hideous Trumpet calls to parley
    The sleepers of the House? speake, speake.
    840Macd. O gentle Lady,
    'Tis not for you to heare what I can speake:
    The repetition in a Womans eare,
    Would murther as it fell.
    Enter Banquo.
    845O Banquo, Banquo, Our Royall Master's murther'd.
    Lady. Woe, alas:
    What, in our House?
    Ban. Too cruell, any where.
    Deare Duff, I prythee contradict thy selfe,
    850And say, it is not so.

    Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Rosse.

    Macb. Had I but dy'd an houre before this chance,
    I had liu'd a blessed time: for from this instant,
    There's nothing serious in Mortalitie:
    855All is but Toyes: Renowne and Grace is dead,
    The Wine of Life is drawne, and the meere Lees
    Is left this Vault, to brag of.

    Enter Malcolme and Donalbaine.

    Donal. What is amisse?
    860Macb. You are, and doe not know't:
    The Spring, the Head, the Fountaine of your Blood
    Is stopt, the very Source of it is stopt.
    Macd. Your Royall Father's murther'd.
    Mal. Oh, by whom?
    865Lenox. Those of his Chamber, as it seem'd, had don't:
    Their Hands and Faces were all badg'd with blood,
    So were their Daggers, which vnwip'd, we found
    Vpon their Pillowes: they star'd, and were distracted,
    No mans Life was to be trusted with them.
    870Macb. O, yet I doe repent me of my furie,
    That I did kill them.
    Macd. Wherefore did you so?
    Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temp'rate, & furious,
    Loyall, and Neutrall, in a moment? No man:
    875Th'expedition of my violent Loue
    Out-run the pawser, Reason. Here lay Duncan,
    His Siluer skinne, lac'd with his Golden Blood,
    And his gash'd Stabs, look'd like a Breach in Nature,
    For Ruines wastfull entrance: there the Murtherers,
    880Steep'd in the Colours of their Trade; their Daggers
    Vnmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refraine,
    That had a heart to loue; and in that heart,
    Courage, to make's loue knowne?
    Lady. Helpe me hence, hoa.
    885Macd. Looke to the Lady.
    Mal. Why doe we hold our tongues,
    That most may clayme this argument for ours?
    Donal. What should be spoken here,

    Where our Fate hid in an augure hole,
    890May rush, and seize vs? Let's away,
    Our Teares are not yet brew'd.
    Mal. Nor our strong Sorrow
    Vpon the foot of Motion.
    Banq. Looke to the Lady:
    895And when we haue our naked Frailties hid,
    That suffer in exposure; let vs meet,
    And question this most bloody piece of worke,
    To know it further. Feares and scruples shake vs:
    In the great Hand of God I stand, and thence,
    900Against the vndivulg'd pretence, I fight
    Of Treasonous Mallice.
    Macd. And so doe I.
    All. So all.
    Macb. Let's briefely put on manly readinesse,
    905And meet i'th'Hall together.
    All. Well contented. Exeunt.
    Malc. What will you doe?
    Let's not consort with them:
    To shew an vnfelt Sorrow, is an Office
    910Which the false man do's easie.
    Ile to England.
    Don. To Ireland, I:
    Our seperated fortune shall keepe vs both the safer:
    Where we are, there's Daggers in mens Smiles;
    915The neere in blood, the neerer bloody.
    Malc. This murtherous Shaft that's shot,
    Hath not yet lighted: and our safest way,
    Is to auoid the ayme. Therefore to Horse,
    And let vs not be daintie of leaue-taking,
    920But shift away: there's warrant in that Theft,
    Which steales it selfe, when there's no mercie left.

    Scena Quarta.

    Enter Rosse, with an Old man.

    925Old man. Threescore and ten I can remember well,
    Within the Volume of which Time, I haue seene
    Houres dreadfull, and things strange: but this sore Night
    Hath trifled former knowings.
    Rosse. Ha, good Father,
    930Thou seest the Heauens, as troubled with mans Act,
    Threatens his bloody Stage: byth'Clock 'tis Day,
    And yet darke Night strangles the trauailing Lampe:
    Is't Nights predominance, or the Dayes shame,
    That Darknesse does the face of Earth intombe,
    935When liuing Light should kisse it?
    Old man. 'Tis vnnaturall,
    Euen like the deed that's done: On Tuesday last,
    A Faulcon towring in her pride of place,
    Was by a Mowsing Owle hawkt at, and kill'd.
    940Rosse. And Duncans Horses,
    (A thing most strange, and certaine)
    Beauteous, and swift, the Minions of their Race,
    Turn'd wilde in nature, broke their stalls, flong out,
    Contending 'gainst Obedience, as they would
    945Make Warre with Mankinde.
    Old man. 'Tis said, they eate each other.
    Rosse. They did so: