Dramatis Personae
DUNCAN king of Scotland.
MALCOLM, DONALBAIN } his sons.
MACBETH, BANQUO } generals of the king’s army.
MACDUFF, LENNOX, ROSS, MENTEITH, ANGUS, CAITHNESS } noblemen of Scotland.
FLEANCE son to Banquo.
SIWARD Earl of Northumberland, general of the English forces.
YOUNG SIWARD his son.
SEYTON an officer attending on Macbeth.
Boy, son to Macduff.
An English Doctor.
A Scotch Doctor.
A Soldier.
A Porter.
An Old Man
LADY MACBETH
LADY MACDUFF
Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth.
HECATE
Three Witches.
Apparitions.
Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, Attendants, and Messengers.
Scene: Scotland: England.
Act 1
Scene 1
A desert place.
Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches
First Witch When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
Second Witch When the hurlyburly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.
Third Witch That will be ere the set of sun.
First Witch Where the place?
Second Witch Upon the heath.
Third Witch There to meet with Macbeth.
First Witch I come, Graymalkin!
Second Witch Paddock calls.
Third Witch Anon.
ALL Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
Hover through the fog and filthy air.
Exeunt
Scene 2
A camp near Forres.
Alarum within. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant
DUNCAN What bloody man is that? He can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
The newest state.
MALCOLM 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.
Sergeant Doubtful it stood;
As two spent swimmers, that do cling together
And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald–
Worthy to be a rebel, for to that
The multiplying villanies of nature
Do swarm upon him–from the western isles
Of kerns 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 smoked with bloody execution,
Like valour’s minion carved out his passage
Till he faced the slave;
Which 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.
DUNCAN O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!
Sergeant As whence the sun ‘gins his reflection
Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break,
So from that spring whence comfort seem’d to come
Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark:
No sooner justice had with valour arm’d
Compell’d these skipping kerns to trust their heels,
But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage,
With furbish’d arms and new supplies of men
Began a fresh assault.
DUNCAN Dismay’d not this
Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?
Sergeant Yes;
As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.
If I say sooth, I must report they were
As cannons overcharged with double cracks, so they
Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe:
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
Or memorise another Golgotha,
I cannot tell.
But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.
DUNCAN So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;
They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons.
Exit Sergeant, attended
Who comes here?
Enter ROSS
MALCOLM The worthy thane of Ross.
LENNOX What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look
That seems to speak things strange.
ROSS God save the king!
DUNCAN Whence camest thou, worthy thane?
ROSS From Fife, great king;
Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky
And fan our people cold. Norway himself,
With terrible numbers,
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;
Till that Bellona’s bridegroom, lapp’d in proof,
Confronted him with self-comparisons,
Point against point rebellious, arm ‘gainst arm.
Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,
The victory fell on us.
DUNCAN Great happiness!
ROSS That now
Sweno, the Norways’ king, craves composition:
Nor would we deign him burial of his men
Till he disbursed at Saint Colme’s inch
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.
DUNCAN No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death,
And with his former title greet Macbeth.
ROSS I’ll see it done.
DUNCAN What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.
Exeunt
Scene 3
A heath near Forres.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches
First Witch Where hast thou been, sister?
Second Witch Killing swine.
Third Witch Sister, where thou?
First Witch A sailor’s wife had chestnuts in her lap,
And munch’d, and munch’d, and munch’d:–
‘Give me,’ quoth I:
‘Aroint thee, witch!’ the rump-fed ronyon cries.
Her husband’s to Aleppo gone, master o’ the Tiger:
But in a sieve I’ll thither sail,
And, like a rat without a tail,
I’ll do, I’ll do, and I’ll do.
Second Witch I’ll give thee a wind.
First Witch Thou’rt kind.
Third Witch And I another.
First Witch I myself have all the other,
And the very ports they blow,
All the quarters that they know
I’ the shipman’s card.
I will drain him dry as hay:
Sleep shall neither night nor day
Hang upon his pent-house lid;
He shall live a man forbid:
Weary se’nnights nine times nine
Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
Look what I have.
Second Witch Show me, show me.
First Witch Here I have a pilot’s thumb,
Wreck’d as homeward he did come.
Drum within
Third Witch A drum, a drum!
Macbeth doth come.
ALL The weird sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land,
Thus do go about, about:
Thrice to thine and thrice to mine
And thrice again, to make up nine.
Peace! the charm’s wound up.
Enter MACBETH and BANQUO
MACBETH So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
BANQUO How far is’t call’d to Forres? What are these
So wither’d and so wild in their attire,
That look not like the inhabitants o’ the earth,
And yet are on’t? Live you? or are you aught
That man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her chappy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.
MACBETH Speak, if you can: what are you?
First Witch All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
Second Witch All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!
Third Witch All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter!
BANQUO Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair? I’ the name of truth,
Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace and great prediction
Of noble having and of royal hope,
That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not.
If you can look into the seeds of time,
And say which grain will grow and which will not,
Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
Your favours nor your hate.
First Witch Hail!
Second Witch Hail!
Third Witch Hail!
First Witch Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
Second Witch Not so happy, yet much happier.
Third Witch Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:
So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
First Witch Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
MACBETH Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
By Sinel’s death I know I am thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
A prosperous gentleman; and to be king
Stands not within the prospect of belief,
No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this strange intelligence? or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.
Witches vanish
BANQUO The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
And these are of them. Whither are they vanish’d?
MACBETH Into the air; and what seem’d corporal melted
As breath into the wind. Would they had stay’d!
BANQUO Were such things here as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten on the insane root
That takes the reason prisoner?
MACBETH Your children shall be kings.
BANQUO You shall be king.
MACBETH And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?
BANQUO To the selfsame tune and words. Who’s here?
Enter ROSS and ANGUS
ROSS The king hath happily received, Macbeth,
The news of thy success; and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels’ fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend
Which should be thine or his: silenced with that,
In viewing o’er the rest o’ the selfsame day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as hail
Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom’s great defence,
And pour’d them down before him.
ANGUS We are sent
To give thee from our royal master thanks;
Only to herald thee into his sight,