1 Me thinkes there is much reason in his sayings

   2 If thou consider rightly of the matter,
Caesar ha's had great wrong

   3 Ha's hee Masters? I feare there will a worse come in his place

   4. Mark'd ye his words? he would not take y Crown,
Therefore 'tis certaine, he was not Ambitious

   1. If it be found so, some will deere abide it

   2. Poore soule, his eyes are red as fire with weeping

   3. There's not a Nobler man in Rome then Antony

   4. Now marke him, he begins againe to speake

   Ant. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might
Haue stood against the World: Now lies he there,
And none so poore to do him reuerence.
O Maisters! If I were dispos'd to stirre
Your hearts and mindes to Mutiny and Rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong:
Who (you all know) are Honourable men.
I will not do them wrong: I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong my selfe and you,
Then I will wrong such Honourable men.
But heere's a Parchment, with the Seale of Caesar,
I found it in his Closset, 'tis his Will:
Let but the Commons heare this Testament:
(Which pardon me) I do not meane to reade,
And they would go and kisse dead Caesars wounds,
And dip their Napkins in his Sacred Blood;
Yea, begge a haire of him for Memory,
And dying, mention it within their Willes,
Bequeathing it as a rich Legacie
Vnto their issue

   4 Wee'l heare the Will, reade it Marke Antony

   All. The Will, the Will; we will heare Caesars Will

   Ant. Haue patience gentle Friends, I must not read it.
It is not meete you know how Caesar lou'd you:
You are not Wood, you are not Stones, but men:
And being men, hearing the Will of Caesar,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad:
'Tis good you know not that you are his Heires,
For if you should, O what would come of it?
  4 Read the Will, wee'l heare it Antony:
You shall reade vs the Will, Caesars Will

   Ant. Will you be Patient? Will you stay a-while?
I haue o're-shot my selfe to tell you of it,
I feare I wrong the Honourable men,
Whose Daggers haue stabb'd Caesar: I do feare it

   4 They were Traitors: Honourable men?
  All. The Will, the Testament

   2 They were Villaines, Murderers: the Will, read the
Will

   Ant. You will compell me then to read the Will:
Then make a Ring about the Corpes of Caesar,
And let me shew you him that made the Will:
Shall I descend? And will you giue me leaue?
  All. Come downe

   2 Descend

   3 You shall haue leaue

   4 A Ring, stand round

   1 Stand from the Hearse, stand from the Body

   2 Roome for Antony, most Noble Antony

   Ant. Nay presse not so vpon me, stand farre off

   All. Stand backe: roome, beare backe

   Ant. If you haue teares, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this Mantle, I remember
The first time euer Caesar put it on,
'Twas on a Summers Euening in his Tent,
That day he ouercame the Neruij.
Looke, in this place ran Cassius Dagger through:
See what a rent the enuious Caska made:
Through this, the wel-beloued Brutus stabb'd,
And as he pluck'd his cursed Steele away:
Marke how the blood of Caesar followed it,
As rushing out of doores, to be resolu'd
If Brutus so vnkindely knock'd, or no:
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesars Angel.
Iudge, O you Gods, how deerely Caesar lou'd him:
This was the most vnkindest cut of all.
For when the Noble Caesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong then Traitors armes,
Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his Mighty heart,
And in his Mantle, muffling vp his face,
Euen at the Base of Pompeyes Statue
(Which all the while ran blood) great Caesar fell.
O what a fall was there, my Countrymen?
Then I, and you, and all of vs fell downe,
Whil'st bloody Treason flourish'd ouer vs.
O now you weepe, and I perceiue you feele
The dint of pitty: These are gracious droppes.
Kinde Soules, what weepe you, when you but behold
Our Caesars Vesture wounded? Looke you heere,
Heere is Himselfe, marr'd as you see with Traitors

   1. O pitteous spectacle!
  2. O Noble Caesar!
  3. O wofull day!
  4. O Traitors, Villaines!
  1. O most bloody sight!
  2. We will be reueng'd: Reuenge
About, seeke, burne, fire, kill, slay,
Let not a Traitor liue

   Ant. Stay Country-men

   1. Peace there, heare the Noble Antony

   2. Wee'l heare him, wee'l follow him, wee'l dy with
him

   Ant. Good Friends, sweet Friends, let me not stirre you vp
To such a sodaine Flood of Mutiny:
They that haue done this Deede, are honourable.
What priuate greefes they haue, alas I know not,
That made them do it: They are Wise, and Honourable,
And will no doubt with Reasons answer you.
I come not (Friends) to steale away your hearts,
I am no Orator, as Brutus is:
But (as you know me all) a plaine blunt man
That loue my Friend, and that they know full well,
That gaue me publike leaue to speake of him:
For I haue neyther writ nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor Vtterance, nor the power of Speech,
To stirre mens Blood. I onely speake right on:
I tell you that, which you your selues do know,
Shew you sweet Caesars wounds, poor poor dum mouths
And bid them speake for me: But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle vp your Spirits, and put a Tongue
In euery Wound of Caesar, that should moue
The stones of Rome, to rise and Mutiny

   All. Wee'l Mutiny

   1 Wee'l burne the house of Brutus

   3 Away then, come, seeke the Conspirators

   Ant. Yet heare me Countrymen, yet heare me speake
  All. Peace hoe, heare Antony, most Noble Antony

   Ant. Why Friends, you go to do you know not what:
Wherein hath Caesar thus deseru'd your loues?
Alas you know not, I must tell you then:
You haue forgot the Will I told you of

   All. Most true, the Will, let's stay and heare the Wil

   Ant. Heere is the Will, and vnder Caesars Seale:
To euery Roman Citizen he giues,
To euery seuerall man, seuenty fiue Drachmaes

   2 Ple. Most Noble Caesar, wee'l reuenge his death

   3 Ple. O Royall Caesar

   Ant. Heare me with patience

   All. Peace hoe
  Ant. Moreouer, he hath left you all his Walkes,
His priuate Arbors, and new-planted Orchards,
On this side Tyber, he hath left them you,
And to your heyres for euer: common pleasures
To walke abroad, and recreate your selues.
Heere was a Caesar: when comes such another?
  1.Ple. Neuer, neuer: come, away, away:
Wee'l burne his body in the holy place,
And with the Brands fire the Traitors houses.
Take vp the body

   2.Ple. Go fetch fire

   3.Ple. Plucke downe Benches

   4.Ple. Plucke downe Formes, Windowes, any thing.

Exit Plebeians.

  Ant. Now let it worke: Mischeefe thou art a-foot,
Take thou what course thou wilt.
How now Fellow?
Enter Seruant.

  Ser. Sir, Octauius is already come to Rome

   Ant. Where is hee?
  Ser. He and Lepidus are at Caesars house

   Ant. And thither will I straight, to visit him:
He comes vpon a wish. Fortune is merry,
And in this mood will giue vs any thing

   Ser. I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius
Are rid like Madmen through the Gates of Rome

   Ant. Belike they had some notice of the people
How I had moued them. Bring me to Octauius.

Exeunt.

Enter Cinna the Poet, and after him the Plebeians.

  Cinna. I dreamt to night, that I did feast with Caesar,
And things vnluckily charge my Fantasie:
I haue no will to wander foorth of doores,
Yet something leads me foorth

   1. What is your name?
  2. Whether are you going?
  3. Where do you dwell?
  4. Are you a married man, or a Batchellor?
  2. Answer euery man directly

   1. I, and breefely

   4. I, and wisely

   3. I, and truly, you were best

   Cin. What is my name? Whether am I going? Where
do I dwell? Am I a married man, or a Batchellour? Then
to answer euery man, directly and breefely, wisely and
truly: wisely I say, I am a Batchellor

   2 That's as much as to say, they are fooles that marrie:
you'l beare me a bang for that I feare: proceede directly

   Cinna. Directly I am going to Caesars Funerall

   1. As a Friend, or an Enemy?
  Cinna. As a friend

   2. That matter is answered directly

   4. For your dwelling: breefely

   Cinna. Breefely, I dwell by the Capitoll

   3. Your name sir, truly

   Cinna. Truly, my name is Cinna

   1. Teare him to peeces, hee's a Conspirator

   Cinna. I am Cinna the Poet, I am Cinna the Poet

   4. Teare him for his bad verses, teare him for his bad
Verses

   Cin. I am not Cinna the Conspirator

   4. It is no matter, his name's Cinna, plucke but his
name out of his heart, and turne him going

   3. Teare him, tear him; Come Brands hoe, Firebrands:
to Brutus, to Cassius, burne all. Some to Decius House,
and some to Caska's; some to Ligarius: Away, go.

Exeunt. all the Plebeians.


Actus Quartus.

Enter Antony, Octauius, and Lepidus.

  Ant. These many then shall die, their names are prickt
  Octa. Your Brother too must dye: consent you Lepidus?
  Lep. I do consent

   Octa. Pricke him downe Antony

   Lep. Vpon condition Publius shall not liue,
Who is your Sisters sonne, Marke Antony

   Ant. He shall not liue; looke, with a spot I dam him.
But Lepidus, go you to Caesars house:
Fetch the Will hither, and we shall determine
How to cut off some charge in Legacies

   Lep. What? shall I finde you heere?
  Octa. Or heere, or at the Capitoll.

Exit Lepidus

  Ant. This is a slight vnmeritable man,
Meet to be sent on Errands: is it fit
The three-fold World diuided, he should stand
One of the three to share it?
  Octa. So you thought him,
And tooke his voyce who should be prickt to dye
In our blacke Sentence and Proscription

   Ant. Octauius, I haue seene more dayes then you,
And though we lay these Honours on this man,
To ease our selues of diuers sland'rous loads,
He shall but beare them, as the Asse beares Gold,
To groane and swet vnder the Businesse,
Either led or driuen, as we point the way:
And hauing brought our Treasure, where we will,
Then take we downe his Load, and turne him off
(Like to the empty Asse) to shake his eares,
And graze in Commons

   Octa. You may do your will:
But hee's a tried, and valiant Souldier

   Ant. So is my Horse Octauius, and for that
I do appoint him store of Prouender.
It is a Creature that I teach to fight,
To winde, to stop, to run directly on:
His corporall Motion, gouern'd by my Spirit,
And in some taste, is Lepidus but so:
He must be taught, and train'd, and bid go forth:
A barren spirited Fellow; one that feeds
On Obiects, Arts, and Imitations.
Which out of vse, and stal'de by other men
Begin his fashion. Do not talke of him,
But as a property: and now Octauius,
Listen great things. Brutus and Cassius
Are leuying Powers; We must straight make head:
Therefore let our Alliance be combin'd,
Our best Friends made, our meanes stretcht,
And let vs presently go sit in Councell,
How couert matters may be best disclos'd,
And open Perils surest answered

   Octa. Let vs do so: for we are at the stake,
And bayed about with many Enemies,
And some that smile haue in their hearts I feare
Millions of Mischeefes.

Exeunt.

Drum. Enter Brutus, Lucillius, and the Army. Titinius and
Pindarus meete
them.

  Bru. Stand ho

   Lucil. Giue the word ho, and Stand

   Bru. What now Lucillius, is Cassius neere?
  Lucil. He is at hand, and Pindarus is come
To do you salutation from his Master

   Bru. He greets me well. Your Master Pindarus
In his owne change, or by ill Officers,
Hath giuen me some worthy cause to wish
Things done, vndone: But if he be at hand
I shall be satisfied

   Pin. I do not doubt
But that my Noble Master will appeare
Such as he is, full of regard, and Honour

   Bru. He is not doubted. A word Lucillius
How he receiu'd you: let me be resolu'd

   Lucil. With courtesie, and with respect enough,
But not with such familiar instances,
Nor with such free and friendly Conference
As he hath vs'd of old

   Bru. Thou hast describ'd
A hot Friend, cooling: Euer note Lucillius,
When Loue begins to sicken and decay
It vseth an enforced Ceremony.
There are no trickes, in plaine and simple Faith:
But hollow men, like Horses hot at hand,
Make gallant shew, and promise of their Mettle:

Low March within.

But when they should endure the bloody Spurre,
They fall their Crests, and like deceitfull Iades
Sinke in the Triall. Comes his Army on?
  Lucil. They meane this night in Sardis to be quarter'd:
The greater part, the Horse in generall
Are come with Cassius.
Enter Cassius and his Powers.

  Bru. Hearke, he is arriu'd:
March gently on to meete him

   Cassi. Stand ho

   Bru. Stand ho, speake the word along.
Stand.
Stand.
Stand

   Cassi. Most Noble Brother, you haue done me wrong

   Bru. Iudge me you Gods; wrong I mine Enemies?
And if not so, how should I wrong a Brother

   Cassi. Brutus, this sober forme of yours, hides wrongs,
And when you do them-
  Brut. Cassius, be content,
Speake your greefes softly, I do know you well.
Before the eyes of both our Armies heere
(Which should perceiue nothing but Loue from vs)
Let vs not wrangle. Bid them moue away:
Then in my Tent Cassius enlarge your Greefes,
And I will giue you Audience

   Cassi. Pindarus,
Bid our Commanders leade their Charges off
A little from this ground

   Bru. Lucillius, do you the like, and let no man
Come to our Tent, till we haue done our Conference.
Let Lucius and Titinius guard our doore.

Exeunt.

Manet Brutus and Cassius.

  Cassi. That you haue wrong'd me, doth appear in this:
You haue condemn'd, and noted Lucius Pella
For taking Bribes heere of the Sardians;
Wherein my Letters, praying on his side,
Because I knew the man was slighted off

   Bru. You wrong'd your selfe to write in such a case

   Cassi. In such a time as this, it is not meet
That euery nice offence should beare his Comment

   Bru. Let me tell you Cassius, you your selfe
Are much condemn'd to haue an itching Palme,
To sell, and Mart your Offices for Gold
To Vndeseruers

   Cassi. I, an itching Palme?
You know that you are Brutus that speakes this,
Or by the Gods, this speech were else your last

   Bru. The name of Cassius Honors this corruption,
And Chasticement doth therefore hide his head

   Cassi. Chasticement?
  Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March reme[m]ber:
Did not great Iulius bleede for Iustice sake?
What Villaine touch'd his body, that did stab,
And not for Iustice? What? Shall one of Vs,
That strucke the Formost man of all this World,
But for supporting Robbers: shall we now,
Contaminate our fingers, with base Bribes?
And sell the mighty space of our large Honors
For so much trash, as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a Dogge, and bay the Moone,
Then such a Roman

   Cassi. Brutus, baite not me,
Ile not indure it: you forget your selfe
To hedge me in. I am a Souldier, I,
Older in practice, Abler then your selfe
To make Conditions

   Bru. Go too: you are not Cassius

   Cassi. I am

   Bru. I say, you are not

   Cassi. Vrge me no more, I shall forget my selfe:
Haue minde vpon your health: Tempt me no farther

   Bru. Away slight man

   Cassi. Is't possible?
  Bru. Heare me, for I will speake.
Must I giue way, and roome to your rash Choller?
Shall I be frighted, when a Madman stares?
  Cassi. O ye Gods, ye Gods, Must I endure all this?
  Bru. All this? I more: Fret till your proud hart break.
Go shew your Slaues how Chollericke you are,
And make your Bondmen tremble. Must I bouge?
Must I obserue you? Must I stand and crouch
Vnder your Testie Humour? By the Gods,
You shall digest the Venom of your Spleene
Though it do Split you. For, from this day forth,
Ile vse you for my Mirth, yea for my Laughter
When you are Waspish

   Cassi. Is it come to this?
  Bru. You say, you are a better Souldier:
Let it appeare so; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well. For mine owne part,
I shall be glad to learne of Noble men

   Cass. You wrong me euery way:
You wrong me Brutus:
I saide, an Elder Souldier, not a Better.
Did I say Better?
  Bru. If you did, I care not

   Cass. When Caesar liu'd, he durst not thus haue mou'd me

   Brut. Peace, peace, you durst not so haue tempted him

   Cassi. I durst not

   Bru. No

   Cassi. What? durst not tempt him?
  Bru. For your life you durst not

   Cassi. Do not presume too much vpon my Loue,
I may do that I shall be sorry for

   Bru. You haue done that you should be sorry for.
There is no terror Cassius in your threats:
For I am Arm'd so strong in Honesty,
That they passe by me, as the idle winde,
Which I respect not. I did send to you
For certaine summes of Gold, which you deny'd me,
For I can raise no money by vile meanes:
By Heauen, I had rather Coine my Heart,
And drop my blood for Drachmaes, then to wring
From the hard hands of Peazants, their vile trash
By any indirection. I did send
To you for Gold to pay my Legions,
Which you deny'd me: was that done like Cassius?
Should I haue answer'd Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus growes so Couetous,
To locke such Rascall Counters from his Friends,
Be ready Gods with all your Thunder-bolts,
Dash him to peeces

   Cassi. I deny'd you not

   Bru. You did

   Cassi. I did not. He was but a Foole
That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riu'd my hart:
A Friend should beare his Friends infirmities;
But Brutus makes mine greater then they are

   Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me

   Cassi. You loue me not

   Bru. I do not like your faults

   Cassi. A friendly eye could neuer see such faults

   Bru. A Flatterers would not, though they do appeare
As huge as high Olympus

   Cassi. Come Antony, and yong Octauius come,
Reuenge your selues alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is a-weary of the World:
Hated by one he loues, brau'd by his Brother,
Check'd like a bondman, all his faults obseru'd,
Set in a Note-booke, learn'd, and con'd by roate
To cast into my Teeth. O I could weepe
My Spirit from mine eyes. There is my Dagger,
And heere my naked Breast: Within, a Heart
Deerer then Pluto's Mine, Richer then Gold:
If that thou bee'st a Roman, take it foorth.
I that deny'd thee Gold, will giue my Heart:
Strike as thou did'st at Caesar: For I know,
When thou did'st hate him worst, y loued'st him better
Then euer thou loued'st Cassius

   Bru. Sheath your Dagger:
Be angry when you will, it shall haue scope:
Do what you will, Dishonor, shall be Humour.
O Cassius, you are yoaked with a Lambe
That carries Anger, as the Flint beares fire,
Who much inforced, shewes a hastie Sparke,
And straite is cold agen

   Cassi. Hath Cassius liu'd
To be but Mirth and Laughter to his Brutus,
When greefe and blood ill temper'd, vexeth him?
  Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill temper'd too

   Cassi. Do you confesse so much? Giue me your hand

   Bru. And my heart too

   Cassi. O Brutus!
  Bru. What's the matter?
  Cassi. Haue not you loue enough to beare with me,
When that rash humour which my Mother gaue me
Makes me forgetfull

   Bru. Yes Cassius, and from henceforth
When you are ouer-earnest with your Brutus,
Hee'l thinke your Mother chides, and leaue you so.
Enter a Poet.

  Poet. Let me go in to see the Generals,
There is some grudge betweene 'em, 'tis not meete
They be alone

   Lucil. You shall not come to them

   Poet. Nothing but death shall stay me

   Cas. How now? What's the matter?
  Poet. For shame you Generals; what do you meane?
Loue, and be Friends, as two such men should bee,
For I haue seene more yeeres I'me sure then yee

   Cas. Ha, ha, how vildely doth this Cynicke rime?
  Bru. Get you hence sirra: Sawcy Fellow, hence

   Cas. Beare with him Brutus, 'tis his fashion

   Brut. Ile know his humor, when he knowes his time:
What should the Warres do with these Iigging Fooles?
Companion, hence

   Cas. Away, away be gone.

Exit Poet

  Bru. Lucillius and Titinius bid the Commanders
Prepare to lodge their Companies to night

   Cas. And come your selues, & bring Messala with you
Immediately to vs

   Bru. Lucius, a bowle of Wine

   Cas. I did not thinke you could haue bin so angry

   Bru. O Cassius, I am sicke of many greefes

   Cas. Of your Philosophy you make no vse,
If you giue place to accidentall euils

   Bru. No man beares sorrow better. Portia is dead

   Cas. Ha? Portia?
  Bru. She is dead

   Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I crost you so?
O insupportable, and touching losse!
Vpon what sicknesse?
  Bru. Impatient of my absence,
And greefe, that yong Octauius with Mark Antony
Haue made themselues so strong: For with her death
That tydings came. With this she fell distract,
And (her Attendants absent) swallow'd fire

   Cas. And dy'd so?
  Bru. Euen so

   Cas. O ye immortall Gods!
Enter Boy with Wine, and Tapers.

  Bru. Speak no more of her: Giue me a bowl of wine,
In this I bury all vnkindnesse Cassius.

Drinkes

  Cas. My heart is thirsty for that Noble pledge.
Fill Lucius, till the Wine ore-swell the Cup:
I cannot drinke too much of Brutus loue.
Enter Titinius and Messala.

  Brutus. Come in Titinius:
Welcome good Messala:
Now sit we close about this Taper heere,
And call in question our necessities

   Cass. Portia, art thou gone?
  Bru. No more I pray you.
Messala, I haue heere receiued Letters,
That yong Octauius, and Marke Antony
Come downe vpon vs with a mighty power,
Bending their Expedition toward Philippi

   Mess. My selfe haue Letters of the selfe-same Tenure

   Bru. With what Addition

   Mess. That by proscription, and billes of Outlarie,
Octauius, Antony, and Lepidus,
Haue put to death, an hundred Senators

   Bru. Therein our Letters do not well agree:
Mine speake of seuenty Senators, that dy'de
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one

   Cassi. Cicero one?
  Messa. Cicero is dead, and by that order of proscription
Had you your Letters from your wife, my Lord?
  Bru. No Messala

   Messa. Nor nothing in your Letters writ of her?
  Bru. Nothing Messala

   Messa. That me thinkes is strange

   Bru. Why aske you?
Heare you ought of her, in yours?
  Messa. No my Lord

   Bru. Now as you are a Roman tell me true

   Messa. Then like a Roman, beare the truth I tell,
For certaine she is dead, and by strange manner

   Bru. Why farewell Portia: We must die Messala:
With meditating that she must dye once,
I haue the patience to endure it now

   Messa. Euen so great men, great losses shold indure

   Cassi. I haue as much of this in Art as you,
But yet my Nature could not beare it so

   Bru. Well, to our worke aliue. What do you thinke
Of marching to Philippi presently

   Cassi. I do not thinke it good

   Bru. Your reason?
  Cassi. This it is:
'Tis better that the Enemie seeke vs,
So shall he waste his meanes, weary his Souldiers,
Doing himselfe offence, whil'st we lying still,
Are full of rest, defence, and nimblenesse

   Bru. Good reasons must of force giue place to better:
The people 'twixt Philippi, and this ground
Do stand but in a forc'd affection:
For they haue grug'd vs Contribution.
The Enemy, marching along by them,
By them shall make a fuller number vp,
Come on refresht, new added, and encourag'd:
From which aduantage shall we cut him off.
If at Philippi we do face him there,
These people at our backe

   Cassi. Heare me good Brother

   Bru. Vnder your pardon. You must note beside,
That we haue tride the vtmost of our Friends:
Our Legions are brim full, our cause is ripe,
The Enemy encreaseth euery day,
We at the height, are readie to decline.
There is a Tide in the affayres of men,
Which taken at the Flood, leades on to Fortune:
Omitted, all the voyage of their life,
Is bound in Shallowes, and in Miseries.
On such a full Sea are we now a-float,
And we must take the current when it serues,
Or loose our Ventures

   Cassi. Then with your will go on: wee'l along
Our selues, and meet them at Philippi

   Bru. The deepe of night is crept vpon our talke,
And Nature must obey Necessitie,
Which we will niggard with a little rest:
There is no more to say

   Cassi. No more, good night,
Early to morrow will we rise, and hence.
Enter Lucius.

  Bru. Lucius my Gowne: farewell good Messala,
Good night Titinius: Noble, Noble Cassius,
Good night, and good repose

   Cassi. O my deere Brother:
This was an ill beginning of the night:
Neuer come such diuision 'tweene our soules:
Let it not Brutus.
Enter Lucius with the Gowne.

  Bru. Euery thing is well

   Cassi. Good night my Lord

   Bru. Good night good Brother

   Tit. Messa. Good night Lord Brutus

   Bru. Farwell euery one.

Exeunt.

Giue me the Gowne. Where is thy Instrument?
  Luc. Heere in the Tent

   Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily?
Poore knaue I blame thee not, thou art ore-watch'd.
Call Claudio, and some other of my men,
Ile haue them sleepe on Cushions in my Tent

   Luc. Varrus, and Claudio.
Enter Varrus and Claudio.

  Var. Cals my Lord?
  Bru. I pray you sirs, lye in my Tent and sleepe,
It may be I shall raise you by and by
On businesse to my Brother Cassius

   Var. So please you, we will stand,
And watch your pleasure

   Bru. I will it not haue it so: Lye downe good sirs,
It may be I shall otherwise bethinke me.
Looke Lucius, heere's the booke I sought for so:
I put it in the pocket of my Gowne

   Luc. I was sure your Lordship did not giue it me

   Bru. Beare with me good Boy, I am much forgetfull.
Canst thou hold vp thy heauie eyes a-while,
And touch thy Instrument a straine or two

   Luc. I my Lord, an't please you

   Bru. It does my Boy:
I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing

   Luc. It is my duty Sir

   Brut. I should not vrge thy duty past thy might,
I know yong bloods looke for a time of rest

   Luc. I haue slept my Lord already

   Bru. It was well done, and thou shalt sleepe againe:
I will not hold thee long. If I do liue,
I will be good to thee.

Musicke, and a Song.

This is a sleepy Tune: O Murd'rous slumber!
Layest thou thy Leaden Mace vpon my Boy,
That playes thee Musicke? Gentle knaue good night:
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee:
If thou do'st nod, thou break'st thy Instrument,
Ile take it from thee, and (good Boy) good night.
Let me see, let me see; is not the Leafe turn'd downe
Where I left reading? Heere it is I thinke.
Enter the Ghost of Caesar.

How ill this Taper burnes. Ha! Who comes heere?
I thinke it is the weakenesse of mine eyes
That shapes this monstrous Apparition.
It comes vpon me: Art thou any thing?
Art thou some God, some Angell, or some Diuell,
That mak'st my blood cold, and my haire to stare?
Speake to me, what thou art

   Ghost. Thy euill Spirit Brutus?
  Bru. Why com'st thou?
  Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi

   Brut. Well: then I shall see thee againe?
  Ghost. I, at Philippi

   Brut. Why I will see thee at Philippi then:
Now I haue taken heart, thou vanishest.
Ill Spirit, I would hold more talke with thee.
Boy, Lucius, Varrus, Claudio, Sirs: Awake:
Claudio

   Luc. The strings my Lord, are false

   Bru. He thinkes he still is at his Instrument.
Lucius, awake

   Luc. My Lord

   Bru. Did'st thou dreame Lucius, that thou so cryedst
out?
  Luc. My Lord, I do not know that I did cry

   Bru. Yes that thou did'st: Did'st thou see any thing?
  Luc. Nothing my Lord

   Bru. Sleepe againe Lucius: Sirra Claudio, Fellow,
Thou: Awake

   Var. My Lord

   Clau. My Lord

   Bru. Why did you so cry out sirs, in your sleepe?
  Both. Did we my Lord?
  Bru. I: saw you any thing?
  Var. No my Lord, I saw nothing

   Clau. Nor I my Lord

   Bru. Go, and commend me to my Brother Cassius:
Bid him set on his Powres betimes before,
And we will follow

   Both. It shall be done my Lord.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Octauius, Antony, and their Army.

  Octa. Now Antony, our hopes are answered,
You said the Enemy would not come downe,
But keepe the Hilles and vpper Regions:
It proues not so: their battailes are at hand,
They meane to warne vs at Philippi heere:
Answering before we do demand of them

   Ant. Tut I am in their bosomes, and I know
Wherefore they do it: They could be content
To visit other places, and come downe
With fearefull brauery: thinking by this face
To fasten in our thoughts that they haue Courage;
But 'tis not so.
Enter a Messenger.

  Mes. Prepare you Generals,
The Enemy comes on in gallant shew:
Their bloody signe of Battell is hung out,
And something to be done immediately

   Ant. Octauius, leade your Battaile softly on
Vpon the left hand of the euen Field

   Octa. Vpon the right hand I, keepe thou the left

   Ant. Why do you crosse me in this exigent

   Octa. I do not crosse you: but I will do so.

March.

Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, & their Army.

  Bru. They stand, and would haue parley

   Cassi. Stand fast Titinius, we must out and talke

   Octa. Mark Antony, shall we giue signe of Battaile?
  Ant. No Caesar, we will answer on their Charge.
Make forth, the Generals would haue some words

   Oct. Stirre not vntill the Signall

   Bru. Words before blowes: is it so Countrymen?
  Octa. Not that we loue words better, as you do

   Bru. Good words are better then bad strokes Octauius

   An. In your bad strokes Brutus, you giue good words
Witnesse the hole you made in Caesars heart,
Crying long liue, Haile Caesar

   Cassi. Antony,
The posture of your blowes are yet vnknowne;
But for your words, they rob the Hibla Bees,
And leaue them Hony-lesse

   Ant. Not stinglesse too

   Bru. O yes, and soundlesse too:
For you haue stolne their buzzing Antony,
And very wisely threat before you sting

   Ant. Villains: you did not so, when your vile daggers
Hackt one another in the sides of Caesar:
You shew'd your teethes like Apes,
And fawn'd like Hounds,
And bow'd like Bondmen, kissing Caesars feete;
Whil'st damned Caska, like a Curre, behinde
Strooke Caesar on the necke. O you Flatterers

   Cassi. Flatterers? Now Brutus thanke your selfe,
This tongue had not offended so to day.
If Cassius might haue rul'd

   Octa. Come, come, the cause. If arguing make vs swet,
The proofe of it will turne to redder drops:
Looke, I draw a Sword against Conspirators,
When thinke you that the Sword goes vp againe?
Neuer till Caesars three and thirtie wounds
Be well aueng'd; or till another Caesar
Haue added slaughter to the Sword of Traitors

   Brut. Caesar, thou canst not dye by Traitors hands.
Vnlesse thou bring'st them with thee

   Octa. So I hope:
I was not borne to dye on Brutus Sword

   Bru. O if thou wer't the Noblest of thy Straine,
Yong-man, thou could'st not dye more honourable

   Cassi. A peeuish School-boy, worthles of such Honor
Ioyn'd with a Masker, and a Reueller

   Ant. Old Cassius still

   Octa. Come Antony: away:
Defiance Traitors, hurle we in your teeth.
If you dare fight to day, come to the Field;
If not, when you haue stomackes.

Exit Octauius, Antony, and Army

  Cassi. Why now blow winde, swell Billow,
And swimme Barke:
The Storme is vp, and all is on the hazard

   Bru. Ho Lucillius, hearke, a word with you.

Lucillius and Messala stand forth.

  Luc. My Lord

   Cassi. Messala

   Messa. What sayes my Generall?
  Cassi. Messala, this is my Birth-day: at this very day
Was Cassius borne. Giue me thy hand Messala:
Be thou my witnesse, that against my will
(As Pompey was) am I compell'd to set
Vpon one Battell all our Liberties.
You know, that I held Epicurus strong,
And his Opinion: Now I change my minde,
And partly credit things that do presage.
Comming from Sardis, on our former Ensigne
Two mighty Eagles fell, and there they pearch'd,
Gorging and feeding from our Soldiers hands,
Who to Philippi heere consorted vs:
This Morning are they fled away, and gone,
And in their steeds, do Rauens, Crowes, and Kites
Fly ore our heads, and downward looke on vs
As we were sickely prey; their shadowes seeme
A Canopy most fatall, vnder which
Our Army lies, ready to giue vp the Ghost

   Messa. Beleeue not so

   Cassi. I but beleeue it partly,
For I am fresh of spirit, and resolu'd
To meete all perils, very constantly

   Bru. Euen so Lucillius

   Cassi. Now most Noble Brutus,
The Gods to day stand friendly, that we may
Louers in peace, leade on our dayes to age.
But since the affayres of men rests still incertaine,
Let's reason with the worst that may befall.
If we do lose this Battaile, then is this
The very last time we shall speake together:
What are you then determined to do?
  Bru. Euen by the rule of that Philosophy,
By which I did blame Cato, for the death
Which he did giue himselfe, I know not how:
But I do finde it Cowardly, and vile,
For feare of what might fall, so to preuent
The time of life, arming my selfe with patience,
To stay the prouidence of some high Powers,
That gouerne vs below

   Cassi. Then, if we loose this Battaile,
You are contented to be led in Triumph
Thorow the streets of Rome

   Bru. No Cassius, no:
Thinke not thou Noble Romane,
That euer Brutus will go bound to Rome,
He beares too great a minde. But this same day
Must end that worke, the Ides of March begun.
And whether we shall meete againe, I know not:
Therefore our euerlasting farewell take:
For euer, and for euer, farewell Cassius,
If we do meete againe, why we shall smile;
If not, why then this parting was well made

   Cassi. For euer, and for euer, farewell Brutus:
If we do meete againe, wee'l smile indeede;
If not, 'tis true, this parting was well made

   Bru. Why then leade on. O that a man might know
The end of this dayes businesse, ere it come:
But it sufficeth, that the day will end,
And then the end is knowne. Come ho, away.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Brutus and Messala.

  Bru. Ride, ride Messala, ride and giue these Billes
Vnto the Legions, on the other side.

Lowd Alarum.

Let them set on at once: for I perceiue
But cold demeanor in Octauio's wing:
And sodaine push giues them the ouerthrow:
Ride, ride Messala, let them all come downe.

Exeunt.

Alarums. Enter Cassius and Titinius.

  Cassi. O looke Titinius, looke, the Villaines flye:
My selfe haue to mine owne turn'd Enemy:
This Ensigne heere of mine was turning backe,
I slew the Coward, and did take it from him

   Titin. O Cassius, Brutus gaue the word too early,
Who hauing some aduantage on Octauius,
Tooke it too eagerly: his Soldiers fell to spoyle,
Whilst we by Antony are all inclos'd.
Enter Pindarus.

  Pind. Fly further off my Lord: flye further off,
Mark Antony is in your Tents my Lord:
Flye therefore Noble Cassius, flye farre off

   Cassi. This Hill is farre enough. Looke, look Titinius
Are those my Tents where I perceiue the fire?
  Tit. They are, my Lord

   Cassi. Titinius, if thou louest me,
Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurres in him,
Till he haue brought thee vp to yonder Troopes
And heere againe, that I may rest assur'd
Whether yond Troopes, are Friend or Enemy

   Tit. I will be heere againe, euen with a thought.
Enter.

  Cassi. Go Pindarus, get higher on that hill,
My sight was euer thicke: regard Titinius,
And tell me what thou not'st about the Field.
This day I breathed first, Time is come round,
And where I did begin, there shall I end,
My life is run his compasse. Sirra, what newes?
  Pind. Aboue. O my Lord

   Cassi. What newes?
  Pind. Titinius is enclosed round about
With Horsemen, that make to him on the Spurre,
Yet he spurres on. Now they are almost on him:
Now Titinius. Now some light: O he lights too.
Hee's tane.

Showt.

And hearke, they shout for ioy

   Cassi. Come downe, behold no more:
O Coward that I am, to liue so long,
To see my best Friend tane before my face
Enter Pindarus.

Come hither sirrah: In Parthia did I take thee Prisoner,
And then I swore thee, sauing of thy life,
That whatsoeuer I did bid thee do,
Thou should'st attempt it. Come now, keepe thine oath,
Now be a Free-man, and with this good Sword
That ran through Caesars bowels, search this bosome.
Stand not to answer: Heere, take thou the Hilts,
And when my face is couer'd, as 'tis now,
Guide thou the Sword- Caesar, thou art reueng'd,
Euen with the Sword that kill'd thee

   Pin. So, I am free,
Yet would not so haue beene
Durst I haue done my will. O Cassius,
Farre from this Country Pindarus shall run,
Where neuer Roman shall take note of him.
Enter Titinius and Messala.

  Messa. It is but change, Titinius: for Octauius
Is ouerthrowne by Noble Brutus power,
As Cassius Legions are by Antony

   Titin. These tydings will well comfort Cassius

   Messa. Where did you leaue him

   Titin. All disconsolate,
With Pindarus his Bondman, on this Hill

   Messa. Is not that he that lyes vpon the ground?
  Titin. He lies not like the Liuing. O my heart!
  Messa. Is not that hee?
  Titin. No, this was he Messala,
But Cassius is no more. O setting Sunne:
As in thy red Rayes thou doest sinke to night;
So in his red blood Cassius day is set.
The Sunne of Rome is set. Our day is gone,
Clowds, Dewes, and Dangers come; our deeds are done:
Mistrust of my successe hath done this deed

   Messa. Mistrust of good successe hath done this deed.
O hatefull Error, Melancholies Childe:
Why do'st thou shew to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not? O Error soone conceyu'd,
Thou neuer com'st vnto a happy byrth,
But kil'st the Mother that engendred thee

   Tit. What Pindarus? Where art thou Pindarus?
  Messa. Seeke him Titinius, whilst I go to meet
The Noble Brutus, thrusting this report
Into his eares; I may say thrusting it:
For piercing Steele, and Darts inuenomed,
Shall be as welcome to the eares of Brutus,
As tydings of this sight

   Tit. Hye you Messala,
And I will seeke for Pindarus the while:
Why did'st thou send me forth braue Cassius?
Did I not meet thy Friends, and did not they
Put on my Browes this wreath of Victorie,
And bid me giue it thee? Did'st thou not heare their showts?
Alas, thou hast misconstrued euery thing.
But hold thee, take this Garland on thy Brow,
Thy Brutus bid me giue it thee, and I
Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace,
And see how I regarded Caius Cassius:
By your leaue Gods: This is a Romans part,
Come Cassius Sword, and finde Titinius hart.

Dies

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, yong Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and
Lucillius.

  Bru. Where, where Messala, doth his body lye?
  Messa. Loe yonder, and Titinius mourning it

   Bru. Titinius face is vpward

   Cato. He is slaine

   Bru. O Iulius Caesar, thou art mighty yet,
Thy Spirit walkes abroad, and turnes our Swords
In our owne proper Entrailes. Low Alarums

   Cato. Braue Titinius,
Looke where he haue not crown'd dead Cassius

   Bru. Are yet two Romans liuing such as these?
The last of all the Romans, far thee well:
It is impossible, that euer Rome
Should breed thy fellow. Friends I owe mo teares
To this dead man, then you shall see me pay.
I shall finde time, Cassius: I shall finde time.
Come therefore, and to Tharsus send his body,
His Funerals shall not be in our Campe,
Least it discomfort vs. Lucillius come,
And come yong Cato, let vs to the Field,
Labio and Flauio set our Battailes on:
'Tis three a clocke, and Romans yet ere night,
We shall try Fortune in a second fight.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, Cato, Lucillius, and Flauius.

  Bru. Yet Country-men: O yet, hold vp your heads

   Cato. What Bastard doth not? Who will go with me?
I will proclaime my name about the Field.
I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe.
A Foe to Tyrants, and my Countries Friend.
I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe.
Enter Souldiers, and fight.

And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I,
Brutus my Countries Friend: Know me for Brutus

   Luc. O yong and Noble Cato, art thou downe?
Why now thou dyest, as brauely as Titinius,
And may'st be honour'd, being Cato's Sonne

   Sold. Yeeld, or thou dyest

   Luc. Onely I yeeld to dye:
There is so much, that thou wilt kill me straight:
Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death

   Sold. We must not: a Noble Prisoner.
Enter Antony.

  2.Sold. Roome hoe: tell Antony, Brutus is tane

   1.Sold. Ile tell thee newes. Heere comes the Generall,
Brutus is tane, Brutus is tane my Lord

   Ant. Where is hee?
  Luc. Safe Antony, Brutus is safe enough:
I dare assure thee, that no Enemy
Shall euer take aliue the Noble Brutus:
The Gods defend him from so great a shame,
When you do finde him, or aliue, or dead,
He will be found like Brutus, like himselfe

   Ant. This is not Brutus friend, but I assure you,
A prize no lesse in worth; keepe this man safe,
Giue him all kindnesse. I had rather haue
Such men my Friends, then Enemies. Go on,
And see where Brutus be aliue or dead,
And bring vs word, vnto Octauius Tent:
How euery thing is chanc'd.

Exeunt.

Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.

  Brut. Come poore remaines of friends, rest on this
Rocke

   Clit. Statillius shew'd the Torch-light, but my Lord
He came not backe: he is or tane, or slaine

   Brut. Sit thee downe, Clitus: slaying is the word,
It is a deed in fashion. Hearke thee, Clitus

   Clit. What I, my Lord? No, not for all the World

   Brut. Peace then, no words

   Clit. Ile rather kill my selfe

   Brut. Hearke thee, Dardanius

   Dard. Shall I doe such a deed?
  Clit. O Dardanius

   Dard. O Clitus

   Clit. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
  Dard. To kill him, Clitus: looke he meditates

   Clit. Now is that Noble Vessell full of griefe,
That it runnes ouer euen at his eyes

   Brut. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word

   Volum. What sayes my Lord?
  Brut. Why this, Volumnius:
The Ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me
Two seuerall times by Night: at Sardis, once;
And this last Night, here in Philippi fields:
I know my houre is come

   Volum. Not so, my Lord

   Brut. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Thou seest the World, Volumnius, how it goes,
Our Enemies haue beat vs to the Pit:

Low Alarums.

It is more worthy, to leape in our selues,
Then tarry till they push vs. Good Volumnius,
Thou know'st, that we two went to Schoole together:
Euen for that our loue of old, I prethee
Hold thou my Sword Hilts, whilest I runne on it

   Vol. That's not an Office for a friend, my Lord.

Alarum still.

  Cly. Fly, flye my Lord, there is no tarrying heere

   Bru. Farewell to you, and you, and Volumnius.
Strato, thou hast bin all this while asleepe:
Farewell to thee, to Strato, Countrymen:
My heart doth ioy, that yet in all my life,
I found no man, but he was true to me.
I shall haue glory by this loosing day
More then Octauius, and Marke Antony,
By this vile Conquest shall attaine vnto.
So fare you well at once, for Brutus tongue
Hath almost ended his liues History:
Night hangs vpon mine eyes, my Bones would rest,
That haue but labour'd, to attaine this houre.

Alarum. Cry within, Flye, flye, flye.

  Cly. Fly my Lord, flye

   Bru. Hence: I will follow:
I prythee Strato, stay thou by thy Lord,
Thou art a Fellow of a good respect:
Thy life hath had some smatch of Honor in it,
Hold then my Sword, and turne away thy face,
While I do run vpon it. Wilt thou Strato?
  Stra. Giue me your hand first. Fare you wel my Lord

   Bru. Farewell good Strato. - Caesar, now be still,
I kill'd not thee with halfe so good a will.
Dyes.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octauius, Messala, Lucillius, and
the
Army.

  Octa. What man is that?
  Messa. My Masters man. Strato, where is thy Master?
  Stra. Free from the Bondage you are in Messala,
The Conquerors can but make a fire of him:
For Brutus onely ouercame himselfe,
And no man else hath Honor by his death

   Lucil. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee Brutus
That thou hast prou'd Lucillius saying true,
  Octa. All that seru'd Brutus, I will entertaine them.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
  Stra. I, if Messala will preferre me to you

   Octa. Do so, good Messala

   Messa. How dyed my Master Strato?
  Stra. I held the Sword, and he did run on it

   Messa. Octauius, then take him to follow thee,
That did the latest seruice to my Master

   Ant. This was the Noblest Roman of them all:
All the Conspirators saue onely hee,
Did that they did, in enuy of great Caesar:
He, onely in a generall honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle, and the Elements
So mixt in him, that Nature might stand vp,
And say to all the world; This was a man

   Octa. According to his Vertue, let vs vse him
Withall Respect, and Rites of Buriall.
Within my Tent his bones to night shall ly,
Most like a Souldier ordered Honourably:
So call the Field to rest, and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.

Exeunt. omnes.


FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF IVLIVS CaeSAR.


The Tragedie of Macbeth

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.

  1. When shall we three meet againe?
In Thunder, Lightning, or in Raine?
  2. When the Hurley-burley's done,
When the Battaile's lost, and wonne

   3. That will be ere the set of Sunne

   1. Where the place?
  2. Vpon the Heath

   3. There to meet with Macbeth

   1. I come, Gray-Malkin

   All. Padock calls anon: faire is foule, and foule is faire,
Houer through the fogge and filthie ayre.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Alarum within. Enter King Malcome, Donalbaine, Lenox, with
attendants,
meeting a bleeding Captaine.

  King. What bloody man is that? he can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the Reuolt
The newest state

   Mal. This is the Serieant,
Who like a good and hardie Souldier fought
'Gainst my Captiuitie: Haile braue friend;
Say to the King, the knowledge of the Broyle,
As thou didst leaue it

   Cap. Doubtfull it stood,
As two spent Swimmers, that doe cling together,
And choake their Art: The mercilesse Macdonwald
(Worthie to be a Rebell, for to that
The multiplying Villanies of Nature
Doe swarme vpon him) from the Westerne Isles
Of Kernes and Gallowgrosses is supply'd,
And Fortune on his damned Quarry smiling,
Shew'd like a Rebells Whore: but all's too weake:
For braue Macbeth (well hee deserues that Name)
Disdayning Fortune, with his brandisht Steele,
Which smoak'd with bloody execution
(Like Valours Minion) caru'd out his passage,
Till hee fac'd the Slaue:
Which neu'r shooke hands, nor bad farwell to him,
Till he vnseam'd him from the Naue toth' Chops,
And fix'd his Head vpon our Battlements

   King. O valiant Cousin, worthy Gentleman

   Cap. As whence the Sunne 'gins his reflection,
Shipwracking Stormes, and direfull Thunders:
So from that Spring, whence comfort seem'd to come,
Discomfort swells: Marke King of Scotland, marke,
No sooner Iustice had, with Valour arm'd,
Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heeles,
But the Norweyan Lord, surueying vantage,
With furbusht Armes, and new supplyes of men,
Began a fresh assault

   King. Dismay'd not this our Captaines, Macbeth and
Banquoh?
  Cap. Yes, as Sparrowes, Eagles;
Or the Hare, the Lyon:
If I say sooth, I must report they were
As Cannons ouer-charg'd with double Cracks,
So they doubly redoubled stroakes vpon the Foe:
Except they meant to bathe in reeking Wounds,
Or memorize another Golgotha,
I cannot tell: but I am faint,
My Gashes cry for helpe

   King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds,
They smack of Honor both: Goe get him Surgeons.
Enter Rosse and Angus.

Who comes here?
  Mal. The worthy Thane of Rosse

   Lenox. What a haste lookes through his eyes?
So should he looke, that seemes to speake things strange

   Rosse. God saue the King

   King. Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane?
  Rosse. From Fiffe, great King,
Where the Norweyan Banners flowt the Skie,
And fanne our people cold.
Norway himselfe, with terrible numbers,
Assisted by that most disloyall Traytor,
The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismall Conflict,
Till that Bellona's Bridegroome, lapt in proofe,
Confronted him with selfe-comparisons,
Point against Point, rebellious Arme 'gainst Arme,
Curbing his lauish spirit: and to conclude,
The Victorie fell on vs

   King. Great happinesse

   Rosse. That now Sweno, the Norwayes King,
Craues composition:
Nor would we deigne him buriall of his men,
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes ynch,
Ten thousand Dollars, to our generall vse

   King. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceiue
Our Bosome interest: Goe pronounce his present death,
And with his former Title greet Macbeth

   Rosse. Ile see it done

   King. What he hath lost, Noble Macbeth hath wonne.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

  1. Where hast thou beene, Sister?
  2. Killing Swine

   3. Sister, where thou?
  1. A Saylors Wife had Chestnuts in her Lappe,
And mouncht, & mouncht, and mouncht:
Giue me, quoth I.
Aroynt thee, Witch, the rumpe-fed Ronyon cryes.
Her Husband's to Aleppo gone, Master o'th' Tiger:
But in a Syue Ile thither sayle,
And like a Rat without a tayle,
Ile doe, Ile doe, and Ile doe

   2. Ile giue thee a Winde

   1. Th'art kinde

   3. And I another

   1. I my selfe haue all the other,
And the very Ports they blow,
All the Quarters that they know,
I'th' Ship-mans Card.
Ile dreyne him drie as Hay:
Sleepe shall neyther Night nor Day
Hang vpon his Pent-house Lid:
He shall liue a man forbid:
Wearie Seu'nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peake, and pine:
Though his Barke cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be Tempest-tost.
Looke what I haue

   2. Shew me, shew me

   1. Here I haue a Pilots Thumbe,
Wrackt, as homeward he did come.

Drum within.

  3. A Drumme, a Drumme:
Macbeth doth come

   All. The weyward Sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the Sea and Land,
Thus doe goe, about, about,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice againe, to make vp nine.
Peace, the Charme's wound vp.
Enter Macbeth and Banquo.

  Macb. So foule and faire a day I haue not seene

   Banquo. How farre is't call'd to Soris? What are these,
So wither'd, and so wilde in their attyre,
That looke not like th' Inhabitants o'th' Earth,
And yet are on't? Liue you, or are you aught
That man may question? you seeme to vnderstand me,
By each at once her choppie finger laying
Vpon her skinnie Lips: you should be Women,
And yet your Beards forbid me to interprete
That you are so

   Mac. Speake if you can: what are you?
  1. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Glamis

   2. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Cawdor

   3. All haile Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter

   Banq. Good Sir, why doe you start, and seeme to feare
Things that doe sound so faire? i'th' name of truth
Are ye fantasticall, or that indeed
Which outwardly ye shew? My Noble Partner
You greet with present Grace, and great prediction
Of Noble hauing, and of Royall hope,
That he seemes wrapt withall: to me you speake not.
If you can looke into the Seedes of Time,
And say, which Graine will grow, and which will not,
Speake then to me, who neyther begge, nor feare
Your fauors, nor your hate

   1. Hayle

   2. Hayle

   3. Hayle

   1. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater

   2. Not so happy, yet much happyer

   3. Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none:
So all haile Macbeth, and Banquo

   1. Banquo, and Macbeth, all haile

   Macb. Stay you imperfect Speakers, tell me more:
By Sinells death, I know I am Thane of Glamis,
But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor liues
A prosperous Gentleman: And to be King,
Stands not within the prospect of beleefe,
No more then to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this strange Intelligence, or why
Vpon this blasted Heath you stop our way
With such Prophetique greeting?
Speake, I charge you.

Witches vanish.

  Banq. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water ha's,
And these are of them: whither are they vanish'd?
  Macb. Into the Ayre: and what seem'd corporall,
Melted, as breath into the Winde.
Would they had stay'd

   Banq. Were such things here, as we doe speake about?
Or haue we eaten on the insane Root,
That takes the Reason Prisoner?
  Macb. Your Children shall be Kings

   Banq. You shall be King

   Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?
  Banq. Toth' selfe-same tune and words: who's here?
Enter Rosse and Angus.

  Rosse. The King hath happily receiu'd, Macbeth,
The newes of thy successe: and when he reades
Thy personall Venture in the Rebels sight,
His Wonders and his Prayses doe contend,
Which should be thine, or his: silenc'd with that,
In viewing o're the rest o'th' selfe-same day,
He findes thee in the stout Norweyan Rankes,
Nothing afeard of what thy selfe didst make
Strange Images of death, as thick as Tale
Can post with post, and euery one did beare
Thy prayses in his Kingdomes great defence,
And powr'd them downe before him

   Ang. Wee are sent,
To giue thee from our Royall Master thanks,
Onely to harrold thee into his sight,
Not pay thee

   Rosse. And for an earnest of a greater Honor,
He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:
In which addition, haile most worthy Thane,
For it is thine

   Banq. What, can the Deuill speake true?
  Macb. The Thane of Cawdor liues:
Why doe you dresse me in borrowed Robes?
  Ang. Who was the Thane, liues yet,
But vnder heauie Iudgement beares that Life,
Which he deserues to loose.
Whether he was combin'd with those of Norway,
Or did lyne the Rebell with hidden helpe,
And vantage; or that with both he labour'd
In his Countreyes wracke, I know not:
But Treasons Capitall, confess'd, and prou'd,
Haue ouerthrowne him

   Macb. Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behinde. Thankes for your paines.
Doe you not hope your Children shall be Kings,
When those that gaue the Thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no lesse to them

   Banq. That trusted home,
Might yet enkindle you vnto the Crowne,
Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
And oftentimes, to winne vs to our harme,
The Instruments of Darknesse tell vs Truths,
Winne vs with honest Trifles, to betray's
In deepest consequence.
Cousins, a word, I pray you

   Macb. Two Truths are told,
As happy Prologues to the swelling Act
Of the Imperiall Theame. I thanke you Gentlemen:
This supernaturall solliciting
Cannot be ill; cannot be good.
If ill? why hath it giuen me earnest of successe,
Commencing in a Truth? I am Thane of Cawdor.
If good? why doe I yeeld to that suggestion,
Whose horrid Image doth vnfixe my Heire,
And make my seated Heart knock at my Ribbes,
Against the vse of Nature? Present Feares
Are lesse then horrible Imaginings:
My Thought, whose Murther yet is but fantasticall,
Shakes so my single state of Man,
That Function is smother'd in surmise,
And nothing is, but what is not

   Banq. Looke how our Partner's rapt

   Macb. If Chance will haue me King,
Why Chance may Crowne me,
Without my stirre

   Banq. New Honors come vpon him
Like our strange Garments, cleaue not to their mould,
But with the aid of vse

   Macb. Come what come may,
Time, and the Houre, runs through the roughest Day

   Banq. Worthy Macbeth, wee stay vpon your leysure

   Macb. Giue me your fauour:
My dull Braine was wrought with things forgotten.
Kinde Gentlemen, your paines are registred,
Where euery day I turne the Leafe,
To reade them.
Let vs toward the King: thinke vpon
What hath chanc'd: and at more time,
The Interim hauing weigh'd it, let vs speake
Our free Hearts each to other

   Banq. Very gladly

   Macb. Till then enough:
Come friends.

Exeunt.


Scena Quarta.

Flourish. Enter King, Lenox, Malcolme, Donalbaine, and
Attendants.

  King. Is execution done on Cawdor?
Or not those in Commission yet return'd?
  Mal. My Liege, they are not yet come back.
But I haue spoke with one that saw him die:
Who did report, that very frankly hee
Confess'd his Treasons, implor'd your Highnesse Pardon,
And set forth a deepe Repentance:
Nothing in his Life became him,
Like the leauing it. Hee dy'de,
As one that had beene studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,
As 'twere a carelesse Trifle

   King. There's no Art,
To finde the Mindes construction in the Face.
He was a Gentleman, on whom I built
An absolute Trust.
Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.

O worthyest Cousin,
The sinne of my Ingratitude euen now
Was heauie on me. Thou art so farre before,
That swiftest Wing of Recompence is slow,
To ouertake thee. Would thou hadst lesse deseru'd,
That the proportion both of thanks, and payment,
Might haue beene mine: onely I haue left to say,
More is thy due, then more then all can pay

   Macb. The seruice, and the loyaltie I owe,
In doing it, payes it selfe.
Your Highnesse part, is to receiue our Duties:
And our Duties are to your Throne, and State,
Children, and Seruants; which doe but what they should,
By doing euery thing safe toward your Loue
And Honor

   King. Welcome hither:
I haue begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
That hast no lesse deseru'd, nor must be knowne
No lesse to haue done so: Let me enfold thee,
And hold thee to my Heart

   Banq. There if I grow,
The Haruest is your owne

   King. My plenteous Ioyes,
Wanton in fulnesse, seeke to hide themselues
In drops of sorrow. Sonnes, Kinsmen, Thanes,
And you whose places are the nearest, know,
We will establish our Estate vpon
Our eldest, Malcolme, whom we name hereafter,
The Prince of Cumberland: which Honor must
Not vnaccompanied, inuest him onely,
But signes of Noblenesse, like Starres, shall shine
On all deseruers. From hence to Envernes,
And binde vs further to you

   Macb. The Rest is Labor, which is not vs'd for you:
Ile be my selfe the Herbenger, and make ioyfull
The hearing of my Wife, with your approach:
So humbly take my leaue

   King. My worthy Cawdor

   Macb. The Prince of Cumberland: that is a step,
On which I must fall downe, or else o're-leape,
For in my way it lyes. Starres hide your fires,
Let not Light see my black and deepe desires:
The Eye winke at the Hand: yet let that bee,
Which the Eye feares, when it is done to see.
Enter.

  King. True worthy Banquo: he is full so valiant,
And in his commendations, I am fed:
It is a Banquet to me. Let's after him,
Whose care is gone before, to bid vs welcome:
It is a peerelesse Kinsman.

Flourish. Exeunt.


Scena Quinta.

Enter Macbeths Wife alone with a Letter.

  Lady. They met me in the day of successe: and I haue
learn'd by the perfect'st report, they haue more in them, then
mortall knowledge. When I burnt in desire to question them
further, they made themselues Ayre, into which they vanish'd.
Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came Missiues from
the King, who all-hail'd me Thane of Cawdor, by which Title
before, these weyward Sisters saluted me, and referr'd me to
the comming on of time, with haile King that shalt be. This
haue I thought good to deliuer thee (my dearest Partner of
Greatnesse) that thou might'st not loose the dues of reioycing
by being ignorant of what Greatnesse is promis'd thee. Lay
it to thy heart and farewell.
Glamys thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be
What thou art promis'd: yet doe I feare thy Nature,
It is too full o'th' Milke of humane kindnesse,
To catch the neerest way. Thou would'st be great,
Art not without Ambition, but without
The illnesse should attend it. What thou would'st highly,
That would'st thou holily: would'st not play false,
And yet would'st wrongly winne.
Thould'st haue, great Glamys, that which cryes,
Thus thou must doe, if thou haue it;
And that which rather thou do'st feare to doe,
Then wishest should be vndone. High thee hither,
That I may powre my Spirits in thine Eare,
And chastise with the valour of my Tongue
All that impeides thee from the Golden Round,
Which Fate and Metaphysicall ayde doth seeme
To haue thee crown'd withall.
Enter Messenger.

What is your tidings?
  Mess. The King comes here to Night

   Lady. Thou'rt mad to say it.
Is not thy Master with him? who, wer't so,
Would haue inform'd for preparation

   Mess. So please you, it is true: our Thane is comming:
One of my fellowes had the speed of him;
Who almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
Then would make vp his Message

   Lady. Giue him tending,
He brings great newes,

Exit Messenger.

The Rauen himselfe is hoarse,
That croakes the fatall entrance of Duncan
Vnder my Battlements. Come you Spirits,
That tend on mortall thoughts, vnsex me here,
And fill me from the Crowne to the Toe, top-full
Of direst Crueltie: make thick my blood,
Stop vp th' accesse, and passage to Remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of Nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keepe peace betweene
Th' effect, and hit. Come to my Womans Brests,
And take my Milke for Gall, you murth'ring Ministers,
Where-euer, in your sightlesse substances,
You wait on Natures Mischiefe. Come thick Night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoake of Hell,
That my keene Knife see not the Wound it makes,
Nor Heauen peepe through the Blanket of the darke,
To cry, hold, hold.
Enter Macbeth.

Great Glamys, worthy Cawdor,
Greater then both, by the all-haile hereafter,
Thy Letters haue transported me beyond
This ignorant present, and I feele now
The future in the instant

   Macb. My dearest Loue,
Duncan comes here to Night

   Lady. And when goes hence?
  Macb. To morrow, as he purposes

   Lady. O neuer,
Shall Sunne that Morrow see.
Your Face, my Thane, is as a Booke, where men
May reade strange matters, to beguile the time.
Looke like the time, beare welcome in your Eye,
Your Hand, your Tongue: looke like th' innocent flower,
But be the Serpent vnder't. He that's comming,
Must be prouided for: and you shall put
This Nights great Businesse into my dispatch,
Which shall to all our Nights, and Dayes to come,
Giue solely soueraigne sway, and Masterdome

   Macb. We will speake further,
  Lady. Onely looke vp cleare:
To alter fauor, euer is to feare:
Leaue all the rest to me.

Exeunt.


Scena Sexta.

Hoboyes, and Torches. Enter King, Malcolme, Donalbaine,
Banquo, Lenox,
Macduff, Rosse, Angus, and Attendants.

  King. This Castle hath a pleasant seat,
The ayre nimbly and sweetly recommends it selfe
Vnto our gentle sences

   Banq. This Guest of Summer,
The Temple-haunting Barlet does approue,
By his loued Mansonry, that the Heauens breath
Smells wooingly here: no Iutty frieze,
Buttrice, nor Coigne of Vantage, but this Bird
Hath made his pendant Bed, and procreant Cradle,
Where they must breed, and haunt: I haue obseru'd
The ayre is delicate.
Enter Lady.

  King. See, see our honor'd Hostesse:
The Loue that followes vs, sometime is our trouble,
Which still we thanke as Loue. Herein I teach you,
How you shall bid God-eyld vs for your paines,
And thanke vs for your trouble

   Lady. All our seruice,
In euery point twice done, and then done double,
Were poore, and single Businesse, to contend
Against those Honors deepe, and broad,
Wherewith your Maiestie loades our House:
For those of old, and the late Dignities,
Heap'd vp to them, we rest your Ermites

   King. Where's the Thane of Cawdor?
We courst him at the heeles, and had a purpose
To be his Purueyor: But he rides well,
And his great Loue (sharpe as his Spurre) hath holp him
To his home before vs: Faire and Noble Hostesse
We are your guest to night

   La. Your Seruants euer,
Haue theirs, themselues, and what is theirs in compt,
To make their Audit at your Highnesse pleasure,
Still to returne your owne

   King. Giue me your hand:
Conduct me to mine Host we loue him highly,
And shall continue, our Graces towards him.
By your leaue Hostesse.

Exeunt.

Scena Septima.

Hoboyes. Torches. Enter a Sewer, and diuers Seruants with Dishes
and
Seruice ouer the Stage. Then enter Macbeth

   Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twer well,
It were done quickly: If th' Assassination
Could trammell vp the Consequence, and catch
With his surcease, Successe: that but this blow
Might be the be all, and the end all. Heere,
But heere, vpon this Banke and Schoole of time,
Wee'ld iumpe the life to come. But in these Cases,
We still haue iudgement heere, that we but teach
Bloody Instructions, which being taught, returne
To plague th' Inuenter, this euen-handed Iustice
Commends th' Ingredience of our poyson'd Challice
To our owne lips. Hee's heere in double trust;
First, as I am his Kinsman, and his Subiect,
Strong both against the Deed: Then, as his Host,
Who should against his Murtherer shut the doore,
Not beare the knife my selfe. Besides, this Duncane
Hath borne his Faculties so meeke; hath bin
So cleere in his great Office, that his Vertues
Will pleade like Angels, Trumpet-tongu'd against
The deepe damnation of his taking off:
And Pitty, like a naked New-borne-Babe,
Striding the blast, or Heauens Cherubin, hors'd
Vpon the sightlesse Curriors of the Ayre,
Shall blow the horrid deed in euery eye,
That teares shall drowne the winde. I haue no Spurre
To pricke the sides of my intent, but onely
Vaulting Ambition, which ore-leapes it selfe,
And falles on th' other.
Enter Lady.

How now? What Newes?
  La. He has almost supt: why haue you left the chamber?
  Mac. Hath he ask'd for me?
  La. Know you not, he ha's?
  Mac. We will proceed no further in this Businesse:
He hath Honour'd me of late, and I haue bought
Golden Opinions from all sorts of people,
Which would be worne now in their newest glosse,
Not cast aside so soone

   La. Was the hope drunke,
Wherein you drest your selfe? Hath it slept since?
And wakes it now to looke so greene, and pale,
At what it did so freely? From this time,
Such I account thy loue. Art thou affear'd
To be the same in thine owne Act, and Valour,
As thou art in desire? Would'st thou haue that
Which thou esteem'st the Ornament of Life,
And liue a Coward in thine owne Esteeme?
Letting I dare not, wait vpon I would,
Like the poore Cat i'th' Addage

   Macb. Prythee peace:
I dare do all that may become a man,
Who dares do more, is none

   La. What Beast was't then
That made you breake this enterprize to me?
When you durst do it, then you were a man:
And to be more then what you were, you would
Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place
Did then adhere, and yet you would make both:
They haue made themselues, and that their fitnesse now
Do's vnmake you. I haue giuen Sucke, and know
How tender 'tis to loue the Babe that milkes me,
I would, while it was smyling in my Face,
Haue pluckt my Nipple from his Bonelesse Gummes,
And dasht the Braines out, had I so sworne
As you haue done to this

   Macb. If we should faile?
  Lady. We faile?
But screw your courage to the sticking place,
And wee'le not fayle: when Duncan is asleepe,
(Whereto the rather shall his dayes hard Iourney
Soundly inuite him) his two Chamberlaines
Will I with Wine, and Wassell, so conuince,
That Memorie, the Warder of the Braine,
Shall be a Fume, and the Receit of Reason
A Lymbeck onely: when in Swinish sleepe,
Their drenched Natures lyes as in a Death,
What cannot you and I performe vpon
Th' vnguarded Duncan? What not put vpon
His spungie Officers? who shall beare the guilt
Of our great quell

   Macb. Bring forth Men-Children onely:
For thy vndaunted Mettle should compose
Nothing but Males. Will it not be receiu'd,
When we haue mark'd with blood those sleepie two
Of his owne Chamber, and vs'd their very Daggers,
That they haue don't?
  Lady. Who dares receiue it other,
As we shall make our Griefes and Clamor rore,
Vpon his Death?
  Macb. I am settled, and bend vp
Each corporall Agent to this terrible Feat.
Away, and mock the time with fairest show,
False Face must hide what the false Heart doth know.

Exeunt.


Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Banquo, and Fleance, with a Torch before him.

  Banq. How goes the Night, Boy?
  Fleance. The Moone is downe: I haue not heard the
Clock

   Banq. And she goes downe at Twelue

   Fleance. I take't, 'tis later, Sir

   Banq. Hold, take my Sword:
There's Husbandry in Heauen,
Their Candles are all out: take thee that too.
A heauie Summons lyes like Lead vpon me,
And yet I would not sleepe:
Mercifull Powers, restraine in me the cursed thoughts
That Nature giues way to in repose.
Enter Macbeth, and a Seruant with a Torch.

Giue me my Sword: who's there?
  Macb. A Friend

   Banq. What Sir, not yet at rest? the King's a bed.
He hath beene in vnusuall Pleasure,
And sent forth great Largesse to your Offices.
This Diamond he greetes your Wife withall,
By the name of most kind Hostesse,
And shut vp in measurelesse content

   Mac. Being vnprepar'd,
Our will became the seruant to defect,
Which else should free haue wrought

   Banq. All's well.
I dreamt last Night of the three weyward Sisters:
To you they haue shew'd some truth

   Macb. I thinke not of them:
Yet when we can entreat an houre to serue,
We would spend it in some words vpon that Businesse,
If you would graunt the time

   Banq. At your kind'st leysure

   Macb. If you shall cleaue to my consent,
When 'tis, it shall make Honor for you

   Banq. So I lose none,
In seeking to augment it, but still keepe
My Bosome franchis'd, and Allegeance cleare,
I shall be counsail'd

   Macb. Good repose the while

   Banq. Thankes Sir: the like to you.

Exit Banquo.

  Macb. Goe bid thy Mistresse, when my drinke is ready,
She strike vpon the Bell. Get thee to bed.
Enter.

Is this a Dagger, which I see before me,
The Handle toward my Hand? Come, let me clutch thee:
I haue thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not fatall Vision, sensible
To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but
A Dagger of the Minde, a false Creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed Braine?
I see thee yet, in forme as palpable,
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going,
And such an Instrument I was to vse.
Mine Eyes are made the fooles o'th' other Sences,
Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still;
And on thy Blade, and Dudgeon, Gouts of Blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
It is the bloody Businesse, which informes
Thus to mine Eyes. Now o're the one halfe World
Nature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuse
The Curtain'd sleepe: Witchcraft celebrates
Pale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd Murther,
Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe,
Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquins rauishing sides, towards his designe
Moues like a Ghost. Thou sowre and firme-set Earth
Heare not my steps, which they may walke, for feare
Thy very stones prate of my where-about,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now sutes with it. Whiles I threat, he liues:
Words to the heat of deedes too cold breath giues.

A Bell rings.

I goe, and it is done: the Bell inuites me.
Heare it not, Duncan, for it is a Knell,
That summons thee to Heauen, or to Hell.
Enter.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Lady.

  La. That which hath made the[m] drunk, hath made me bold:
What hath quench'd them, hath giuen me fire.
Hearke, peace: it was the Owle that shriek'd,
The fatall Bell-man, which giues the stern'st good-night.
He is about it, the Doores are open:
And the surfeted Groomes doe mock their charge
With Snores. I haue drugg'd their Possets,
That Death and Nature doe contend about them,
Whether they liue, or dye.
Enter Macbeth.

  Macb. Who's there? what hoa?
  Lady. Alack, I am afraid they haue awak'd,
And 'tis not done: th' attempt, and not the deed,
Confounds vs: hearke: I lay'd their Daggers ready,
He could not misse 'em. Had he not resembled
My Father as he slept, I had don't.
My Husband?
  Macb. I haue done the deed:
Didst thou not heare a noyse?
  Lady. I heard the Owle schreame, and the Crickets cry.
Did not you speake?
  Macb. When?
  Lady. Now

   Macb. As I descended?
  Lady. I

   Macb. Hearke, who lyes i'th' second Chamber?
  Lady. Donalbaine

   Mac. This is a sorry sight

   Lady. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight

   Macb. There's one did laugh in's sleepe,
And one cry'd Murther, that they did wake each other:
I stood, and heard them: But they did say their Prayers,
And addrest them againe to sleepe

   Lady. There are two lodg'd together

   Macb. One cry'd God blesse vs, and Amen the other,
As they had seene me with these Hangmans hands:
Listning their feare, I could not say Amen,
When they did say God blesse vs

   Lady. Consider it not so deepely

   Mac. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen?
I had most need of Blessing, and Amen stuck in my throat

   Lady. These deeds must not be thought
After these wayes: so, it will make vs mad

   Macb. Me thought I heard a voyce cry, Sleep no more:
Macbeth does murther Sleepe, the innocent Sleepe,
Sleepe that knits vp the rauel'd Sleeue of Care,
The death of each dayes Life, sore Labors Bath,
Balme of hurt Mindes, great Natures second Course,
Chiefe nourisher in Life's Feast

   Lady. What doe you meane?
  Macb. Still it cry'd, Sleepe no more to all the House:
Glamis hath murther'd Sleepe, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleepe no more: Macbeth shall sleepe no more

   Lady. Who was it, that thus cry'd? why worthy Thane,
You doe vnbend your Noble strength, to thinke
So braine-sickly of things: Goe get some Water,
And wash this filthie Witnesse from your Hand.
Why did you bring these Daggers from the place?
They must lye there: goe carry them, and smeare
The sleepie Groomes with blood

   Macb. Ile goe no more:
I am afraid, to thinke what I haue done:
Looke on't againe, I dare not

   Lady. Infirme of purpose:
Giue me the Daggers: the sleeping, and the dead,
Are but as Pictures: 'tis the Eye of Childhood,
That feares a painted Deuill. If he doe bleed,
Ile guild the Faces of the Groomes withall,
For it must seeme their Guilt.
Enter.

Knocke within.

  Macb. Whence is that knocking?
How is't with me, when euery noyse appalls me?
What Hands are here? hah: they pluck out mine Eyes.
Will all great Neptunes Ocean wash this blood
Cleane from my Hand? no: this my Hand will rather
The multitudinous Seas incarnardine,
Making the Greene one, Red.
Enter Lady.

  Lady. My Hands are of your colour: but I shame
To weare a Heart so white.

Knocke.

I heare a knocking at the South entry:
Retyre we to our Chamber:
A little Water cleares vs of this deed.
How easie is it then? your Constancie
Hath left you vnattended.

Knocke.

Hearke, more knocking.
Get on your Night-Gowne, least occasion call vs,
And shew vs to be Watchers: be not lost
So poorely in your thoughts

   Macb. To know my deed,

Knocke.

'Twere best not know my selfe.
Wake Duncan with thy knocking:
I would thou could'st.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter a Porter. Knocking within.

  Porter. Here's a knocking indeede: if a man were
Porter of Hell Gate, hee should haue old turning the
Key.

Knock.

Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there
i'th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd
himselfe on th' expectation of Plentie: Come in time, haue
Napkins enow about you, here you'le sweat for't.

Knock.

Knock, knock. Who's there in th' other Deuils Name?
Faith here's an Equiuocator, that could sweare in both
the Scales against eyther Scale, who committed Treason
enough for Gods sake, yet could not equiuocate to Heauen:
oh come in, Equiuocator.

Knock.

Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there? 'Faith here's an English
Taylor come hither, for stealing out of a French Hose:
Come in Taylor, here you may rost your Goose.
Knock.

Knock, Knock. Neuer at quiet: What are you? but this
place is too cold for Hell. Ile Deuill-Porter it no further:
I had thought to haue let in some of all Professions, that
goe the Primrose way to th' euerlasting Bonfire.

Knock.

Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter.
Enter Macduff, and Lenox.

  Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to Bed,
That you doe lye so late?
  Port. Faith Sir, we were carowsing till the second Cock:
And Drinke, Sir, is a great prouoker of three things

   Macd. What three things does Drinke especially
prouoke?
  Port. Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleepe, and Vrine.
Lecherie, Sir, it prouokes, and vnprouokes: it prouokes
the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore
much Drinke may be said to be an Equiuocator with Lecherie:
it makes him, and it marres him; it sets him on,
and it takes him off; it perswades him, and dis-heartens
him; makes him stand too, and not stand too: in conclusion,
equiuocates him in a sleepe, and giuing him the Lye,
leaues him

   Macd. I beleeue, Drinke gaue thee the Lye last Night

   Port. That it did, Sir, i'the very Throat on me: but I
requited him for his Lye, and (I thinke) being too strong
for him, though he tooke vp my Legges sometime, yet I
made a Shift to cast him.
Enter Macbeth.

  Macd. Is thy Master stirring?
Our knocking ha's awak'd him: here he comes

   Lenox. Good morrow, Noble Sir

   Macb. Good morrow both

   Macd. Is the King stirring, worthy Thane?
  Macb. Not yet

   Macd. He did command me to call timely on him,
I haue almost slipt the houre

   Macb. Ile bring you to him

   Macd. I know this is a ioyfull trouble to you:
But yet 'tis one

   Macb. The labour we delight in, Physicks paine:
This is the Doore

   Macd. Ile make so bold to call, for 'tis my limitted
seruice.

Exit Macduffe.

  Lenox. Goes the King hence to day?
  Macb. He does: he did appoint so

   Lenox. The Night ha's been vnruly:
Where we lay, our Chimneys were blowne downe,
And (as they say) lamentings heard i'th' Ayre;
Strange Schreemes of Death,
And Prophecying, with Accents terrible,
Of dyre Combustion, and confus'd Euents,
New hatch'd toth' wofull time.
The obscure Bird clamor'd the liue-long Night.
Some say, the Earth was Feuorous,
And did shake

   Macb. 'Twas a rough Night

   Lenox. My young remembrance cannot paralell
A fellow to it.
Enter Macduff.

  Macd. O horror, horror, horror,
Tongue nor Heart cannot conceiue, nor name thee

   Macb. and Lenox. What's the matter?
  Macd. Confusion now hath made his Master-peece:
Most sacrilegious Murther hath broke ope
The Lords anoynted Temple, and stole thence
The Life o'th' Building

   Macb. What is't you say, the Life?
  Lenox. Meane you his Maiestie?
  Macd. Approch the Chamber, and destroy your sight
With a new Gorgon. Doe not bid me speake:
See, and then speake your selues: awake, awake,

Exeunt. Macbeth and Lenox.

Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason,
Banquo, 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,
To 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

   Macd. 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.

O 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,
And 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:
All 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?
  Macb. 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?
  Lenox. 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

   Macb. 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:
Th' 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,
Steep'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

   Macd. 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,
May 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:
And 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,
Against 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,
And 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
Which 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;
The 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,
But shift away: there's warrant in that Theft,
Which steales it selfe, when there's no mercie left.

Exeunt.



Scena Quarta.

Enter Rosse, with an Old man.

  Old 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,
Thou 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,
When 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

   Rosse. 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
Make Warre with Mankinde

   Old man. 'Tis said, they eate each other

   Rosse. They did so:
To th' amazement of mine eyes that look'd vpon't.
Enter Macduffe.

Heere comes the good Macduffe.
How goes the world Sir, now?
  Macd. Why see you not?
  Ross. Is't known who did this more then bloody deed?
  Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slaine

   Ross. Alas the day,
What good could they pretend?
  Macd. They were subborned,
Malcolme, and Donalbaine the Kings two Sonnes
Are stolne away and fled, which puts vpon them
Suspition of the deed

   Rosse. 'Gainst Nature still,
Thriftlesse Ambition, that will rauen vp
Thine owne liues meanes: Then 'tis most like,
The Soueraignty will fall vpon Macbeth

   Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone
To be inuested

   Rosse. Where is Duncans body?
  Macd. Carried to Colmekill,
The Sacred Store-house of his Predecessors,
And Guardian of their Bones

   Rosse. Will you to Scone?
  Macd. No Cosin, Ile to Fife

   Rosse. Well, I will thither

   Macd. Well may you see things wel done there: Adieu
Least our old Robes sit easier then our new

   Rosse. Farewell, Father

   Old M. Gods benyson go with you, and with those
That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes.

Exeunt. omnes

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Banquo.

  Banq. Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weyard Women promis'd, and I feare
Thou playd'st most fowly for't: yet it was saide
It should not stand in thy Posterity,
But that my selfe should be the Roote, and Father
Of many Kings. If there come truth from them,
As vpon thee Macbeth, their Speeches shine,
Why by the verities on thee made good,
May they not be my Oracles as well,
And set me vp in hope. But hush, no more.

Senit sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Lenox, Rosse, Lords,
and
Attendants.

  Macb. Heere's our chiefe Guest

   La. If he had beene forgotten,
It had bene as a gap in our great Feast,
And all-thing vnbecomming

   Macb. To night we hold a solemne Supper sir,
And Ile request your presence

   Banq. Let your Highnesse
Command vpon me, to the which my duties
Are with a most indissoluble tye
For euer knit

   Macb. Ride you this afternoone?
  Ban. I, my good Lord

   Macb. We should haue else desir'd your good aduice
(Which still hath been both graue, and prosperous)
In this dayes Councell: but wee'le take to morrow.
Is't farre you ride?
  Ban. As farre, my Lord, as will fill vp the time
'Twixt this, and Supper. Goe not my Horse the better,
I must become a borrower of the Night,
For a darke houre, or twaine

   Macb. Faile not our Feast

   Ban. My Lord, I will not

   Macb. We heare our bloody Cozens are bestow'd
In England, and in Ireland, not confessing
Their cruell Parricide, filling their hearers
With strange inuention. But of that to morrow,
When therewithall, we shall haue cause of State,
Crauing vs ioyntly. Hye you to Horse:
Adieu, till you returne at Night.
Goes Fleance with you?
  Ban. I, my good Lord: our time does call vpon's

   Macb. I wish your Horses swift, and sure of foot:
And so I doe commend you to their backs.
Farwell.

Exit Banquo.

Let euery man be master of his time,
Till seuen at Night, to make societie
The sweeter welcome:
We will keepe our selfe till Supper time alone:
While then, God be with you.

Exeunt. Lords.

Sirrha, a word with you: Attend those men
Our pleasure?
  Seruant. They are, my Lord, without the Pallace
Gate

   Macb. Bring them before vs.

Exit Seruant.

To be thus, is nothing, but to be safely thus
Our feares in Banquo sticke deepe,
And in his Royaltie of Nature reignes that
Which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares,
And to that dauntlesse temper of his Minde,
He hath a Wisdome, that doth guide his Valour,
To act in safetie. There is none but he,
Whose being I doe feare: and vnder him,
My Genius is rebuk'd, as it is said
Mark Anthonies was by Caesar. He chid the Sisters,
When first they put the Name of King vpon me,
And bad them speake to him. Then Prophet-like,
They hayl'd him Father to a Line of Kings.
Vpon my Head they plac'd a fruitlesse Crowne,
And put a barren Scepter in my Gripe,
Thence to be wrencht with an vnlineall Hand,
No Sonne of mine succeeding: if't be so,
For Banquo's Issue haue I fil'd my Minde,
For them, the gracious Duncan haue I murther'd,
Put Rancours in the Vessell of my Peace
Onely for them, and mine eternall Iewell
Giuen to the common Enemie of Man,
To make them Kings, the Seedes of Banquo Kings.
Rather then so, come Fate into the Lyst,
And champion me to th' vtterance.
Who's there?
Enter Seruant, and two Murtherers.

Now goe to the Doore, and stay there till we call.

Exit Seruant.

Was it not yesterday we spoke together?
  Murth. It was, so please your Highnesse

   Macb. Well then,
Now haue you consider'd of my speeches:
Know, that it was he, in the times past,
Which held you so vnder fortune,
Which you thought had been our innocent selfe.
This I made good to you, in our last conference,
Past in probation with you:
How you were borne in hand, how crost:
The Instruments: who wrought with them:
And all things else, that might
To halfe a Soule, and to a Notion craz'd,
Say, Thus did Banquo

   1.Murth. You made it knowne to vs

   Macb. I did so:
And went further, which is now
Our point of second meeting.
Doe you finde your patience so predominant,
In your nature, that you can let this goe?
Are you so Gospell'd, to pray for this good man,
And for his Issue, whose heauie hand
Hath bow'd you to the Graue, and begger'd
Yours for euer?
  1.Murth. We are men, my Liege

   Macb. I, in the Catalogue ye goe for men,
As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mungrels, Spaniels, Curres,
Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolues are clipt
All by the Name of Dogges: the valued file
Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
The House-keeper, the Hunter, euery one
According to the gift, which bounteous Nature
Hath in him clos'd: whereby he does receiue
Particular addition, from the Bill,
That writes them all alike: and so of men.
Now, if you haue a station in the file,
Not i'th' worst ranke of Manhood, say't,
And I will put that Businesse in your Bosomes,
Whose execution takes your Enemie off,
Grapples you to the heart; and loue of vs,
Who weare our Health but sickly in his Life,
Which in his Death were perfect

   2.Murth. I am one, my Liege,
Whom the vile Blowes and Buffets of the World
Hath so incens'd, that I am recklesse what I doe,
To spight the World

   1.Murth. And I another,
So wearie with Disasters, tugg'd with Fortune,
That I would set my Life on any Chance,
To mend it, or be rid on't

   Macb. Both of you know Banquo was your Enemie

   Murth. True, my Lord

   Macb. So is he mine: and in such bloody distance,
That euery minute of his being, thrusts
Against my neer'st of Life: and though I could
With bare-fac'd power sweepe him from my sight,
And bid my will auouch it; yet I must not,
For certaine friends that are both his, and mine,
Whose loues I may not drop, but wayle his fall,
Who I my selfe struck downe: and thence it is,
That I to your assistance doe make loue,
Masking the Businesse from the common Eye,
For sundry weightie Reasons

   2.Murth. We shall, my Lord,
Performe what you command vs

   1.Murth. Though our Liues-
  Macb. Your Spirits shine through you.
Within this houre, at most,
I will aduise you where to plant your selues,
Acquaint you with the perfect Spy o'th' time,
The moment on't, for't must be done to Night,
And something from the Pallace: alwayes thought,
That I require a clearenesse; and with him,
To leaue no Rubs nor Botches in the Worke:
  Fleans , his Sonne, that keepes him companie,
Whose absence is no lesse materiall to me,
Then is his Fathers, must embrace the fate
Of that darke houre: resolue your selues apart,
Ile come to you anon

   Murth. We are resolu'd, my Lord

   Macb. Ile call vpon you straight: abide within,
It is concluded: Banquo, thy Soules flight,
If it finde Heauen, must finde it out to Night.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Macbeths Lady, and a Seruant.

  Lady. Is Banquo gone from Court?
  Seruant. I, Madame, but returnes againe to Night

   Lady. Say to the King, I would attend his leysure,
For a few words

   Seruant. Madame, I will.
Enter.

  Lady. Nought's had, all's spent.
Where our desire is got without content:
'Tis safer, to be that which we destroy,
Then by destruction dwell in doubtfull ioy.
Enter Macbeth.

How now, my Lord, why doe you keepe alone?
Of sorryest Fancies your Companions making,
Vsing those Thoughts, which should indeed haue dy'd
With them they thinke on: things without all remedie
Should be without regard: what's done, is done

   Macb. We haue scorch'd the Snake, not kill'd it:
Shee'le close, and be her selfe, whilest our poore Mallice
Remaines in danger of her former Tooth.
But let the frame of things dis-ioynt,
Both the Worlds suffer,
Ere we will eate our Meale in feare, and sleepe
In the affliction of these terrible Dreames,
That shake vs Nightly: Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gayne our peace, haue sent to peace,
Then on the torture of the Minde to lye
In restlesse extasie.
Duncane is in his Graue:
After Lifes fitfull Feuer, he sleepes well,
Treason ha's done his worst: nor Steele, nor Poyson,
Mallice domestique, forraine Leuie, nothing,
Can touch him further

   Lady. Come on:
Gentle my Lord, sleeke o're your rugged Lookes,
Be bright and Iouiall among your Guests to Night

   Macb. So shall I Loue, and so I pray be you:
Let your remembrance apply to Banquo,
Present him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue:
Vnsafe the while, that wee must laue
Our Honors in these flattering streames,
And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts,
Disguising what they are

   Lady. You must leaue this

   Macb. O, full of Scorpions is my Minde, deare Wife:
Thou know'st, that Banquo and his Fleans liues

   Lady. But in them, Natures Coppie's not eterne

   Macb. There's comfort yet, they are assaileable,
Then be thou iocund: ere the Bat hath flowne
His Cloyster'd flight, ere to black Heccats summons
The shard-borne Beetle, with his drowsie hums,
Hath rung Nights yawning Peale,
There shall be done a deed of dreadfull note

   Lady. What's to be done?
  Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck,
Till thou applaud the deed: Come, seeling Night,
Skarfe vp the tender Eye of pittifull Day,
And with thy bloodie and inuisible Hand
Cancell and teare to pieces that great Bond,
Which keepes me pale. Light thickens,
And the Crow makes Wing toth' Rookie Wood:
Good things of Day begin to droope, and drowse,
Whiles Nights black Agents to their Prey's doe rowse.
Thou maruell'st at my words: but hold thee still,
Things bad begun, make strong themselues by ill:
So prythee goe with me.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter three Murtherers.

  1. But who did bid thee ioyne with vs?
  3. Macbeth

   2. He needes not our mistrust, since he deliuers
Our Offices, and what we haue to doe,
To the direction iust

   1. Then stand with vs:
The West yet glimmers with some streakes of Day.
Now spurres the lated Traueller apace,
To gayne the timely Inne, and neere approches
The subiect of our Watch

   3. Hearke, I heare Horses

   Banquo within. Giue vs a Light there, hoa

   2. Then 'tis hee:
The rest, that are within the note of expectation,
Alreadie are i'th' Court

   1. His Horses goe about

   3. Almost a mile: but he does vsually,
So all men doe, from hence toth' Pallace Gate
Make it their Walke.
Enter Banquo and Fleans, with a Torch.

  2. A Light, a Light

   3. 'Tis hee

   1. Stand too't

   Ban. It will be Rayne to Night

   1. Let it come downe

   Ban. O, Trecherie!
Flye good Fleans, flye, flye, flye,
Thou may'st reuenge. O Slaue!
  3. Who did strike out the Light?
  1. Was't not the way?
  3. There's but one downe: the Sonne is fled

   2. We haue lost
Best halfe of our Affaire

   1. Well, let's away, and say how much is done.

Exeunt.


Scaena Quarta.

Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and
Attendants.

  Macb. You know your owne degrees, sit downe:
At first and last, the hearty welcome

   Lords. Thankes to your Maiesty

   Macb. Our selfe will mingle with Society,
And play the humble Host:
Our Hostesse keepes her State, but in best time
We will require her welcome

   La. Pronounce it for me Sir, to all our Friends,
For my heart speakes, they are welcome.
Enter first Murtherer.

  Macb. See they encounter thee with their harts thanks
Both sides are euen: heere Ile sit i'th' mid'st,
Be large in mirth, anon wee'l drinke a Measure
The Table round. There's blood vpon thy face

   Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then

   Macb. 'Tis better thee without, then he within.
Is he dispatch'd?
  Mur. My Lord his throat is cut, that I did for him

   Mac. Thou art the best o'th' Cut-throats,
Yet hee's good that did the like for Fleans:
If thou did'st it, thou art the Non-pareill

   Mur. Most Royall Sir
Fleans is scap'd

   Macb. Then comes my Fit againe:
I had else beene perfect;
Whole as the Marble, founded as the Rocke,
As broad, and generall, as the casing Ayre:
But now I am cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd, bound in
To sawcy doubts, and feares. But Banquo's safe?
  Mur. I, my good Lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
The least a Death to Nature

   Macb. Thankes for that:
There the growne Serpent lyes, the worme that's fled
Hath Nature that in time will Venom breed,
No teeth for th' present. Get thee gone, to morrow
Wee'l heare our selues againe.

Exit Murderer.

  Lady. My Royall Lord,
You do not giue the Cheere, the Feast is sold
That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making:
'Tis giuen, with welcome: to feede were best at home:
From thence, the sawce to meate is Ceremony,
Meeting were bare without it.
Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and sits in Macbeths place.

  Macb. Sweet Remembrancer:
Now good digestion waite on Appetite,
And health on both

   Lenox. May't please your Highnesse sit

   Macb. Here had we now our Countries Honor, roof'd,
Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present:
Who, may I rather challenge for vnkindnesse,
Then pitty for Mischance

   Rosse. His absence (Sir)
Layes blame vpon his promise. Pleas't your Highnesse
To grace vs with your Royall Company?
  Macb. The Table's full

   Lenox. Heere is a place reseru'd Sir

   Macb. Where?
  Lenox. Heere my good Lord.
What is't that moues your Highnesse?
  Macb. Which of you haue done this?
  Lords. What, my good Lord?
  Macb. Thou canst not say I did it: neuer shake
Thy goary lockes at me

   Rosse. Gentlemen rise, his Highnesse is not well

   Lady. Sit worthy Friends: my Lord is often thus,
And hath beene from his youth. Pray you keepe Seat,
The fit is momentary, vpon a thought
He will againe be well. If much you note him
You shall offend him, and extend his Passion,
Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?
  Macb. I, and a bold one, that dare looke on that
Which might appall the Diuell

   La. O proper stuffe:
This is the very painting of your feare:
This is the Ayre-drawne-Dagger which you said
Led you to Duncan. O, these flawes and starts
(Impostors to true feare) would well become
A womans story, at a Winters fire
Authoriz'd by her Grandam: shame it selfe,
Why do you make such faces? When all's done
You looke but on a stoole

   Macb. Prythee see there:
Behold, looke, loe, how say you:
Why what care I, if thou canst nod, speake too.
If Charnell houses, and our Graues must send
Those that we bury, backe; our Monuments
Shall be the Mawes of Kytes

   La. What? quite vnmann'd in folly

   Macb. If I stand heere, I saw him

   La. Fie for shame

   Macb. Blood hath bene shed ere now, i'th' olden time
Ere humane Statute purg'd the gentle Weale:
I, and since too, Murthers haue bene perform'd
Too terrible for the eare. The times has bene,
That when the Braines were out, the man would dye,
And there an end: But now they rise againe
With twenty mortall murthers on their crownes,
And push vs from our stooles. This is more strange
Then such a murther is

   La. My worthy Lord
Your Noble Friends do lacke you

   Macb. I do forget:
Do not muse at me my most worthy Friends,
I haue a strange infirmity, which is nothing
To those that know me. Come, loue and health to all,
Then Ile sit downe: Giue me some Wine, fill full:
Enter Ghost.

I drinke to th' generall ioy o'th' whole Table,
And to our deere Friend Banquo, whom we misse:
Would he were heere: to all, and him we thirst,
And all to all

   Lords. Our duties, and the pledge

   Mac. Auant, & quit my sight, let the earth hide thee:
Thy bones are marrowlesse, thy blood is cold:
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with

   La. Thinke of this good Peeres
But as a thing of Custome: 'Tis no other,
Onely it spoyles the pleasure of the time

   Macb. What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian Beare,
The arm'd Rhinoceros, or th' Hircan Tiger,
Take any shape but that, and my firme Nerues
Shall neuer tremble. Or be aliue againe,
And dare me to the Desart with thy Sword:
If trembling I inhabit then, protest mee
The Baby of a Girle. Hence horrible shadow,
Vnreall mock'ry hence. Why so, being gone
I am a man againe: pray you sit still

   La. You haue displac'd the mirth,
Broke the good meeting, with most admir'd disorder

   Macb. Can such things be,
And ouercome vs like a Summers Clowd,
Without our speciall wonder? You make me strange
Euen to the disposition that I owe,
When now I thinke you can behold such sights,
And keepe the naturall Rubie of your Cheekes,
When mine is blanch'd with feare

   Rosse. What sights, my Lord?
  La. I pray you speake not: he growes worse & worse
Question enrages him: at once, goodnight.
Stand not vpon the order of your going,
But go at once

   Len. Good night, and better health
Attend his Maiesty

   La. A kinde goodnight to all.

Exit Lords.

  Macb. It will haue blood they say:
Blood will haue Blood:
Stones haue beene knowne to moue, & Trees to speake:
Augures, and vnderstood Relations, haue
By Maggot Pyes, & Choughes, & Rookes brought forth
The secret'st man of Blood. What is the night?
  La. Almost at oddes with morning, which is which

   Macb. How say'st thou that Macduff denies his person
At our great bidding

   La. Did you send to him Sir?
  Macb. I heare it by the way: But I will send:
There's not a one of them but in his house
I keepe a Seruant Feed. I will to morrow
(And betimes I will) to the weyard Sisters.
More shall they speake: for now I am bent to know
By the worst meanes, the worst, for mine owne good,
All causes shall giue way. I am in blood
Stept in so farre, that should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go ore:
Strange things I haue in head, that will to hand,
Which must be acted, ere they may be scand

   La. You lacke the season of all Natures, sleepe

   Macb. Come, wee'l to sleepe: My strange & self-abuse
Is the initiate feare, that wants hard vse:
We are yet but yong indeed.

Exeunt.


Scena Quinta.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecat.

  1. Why how now Hecat, you looke angerly?
  Hec. Haue I not reason (Beldams) as you are?
Sawcy, and ouer-bold, how did you dare
To Trade, and Trafficke with Macbeth,
In Riddles, and Affaires of death;
And I the Mistris of your Charmes,
The close contriuer of all harmes,
Was neuer call'd to beare my part,
Or shew the glory of our Art?
And which is worse, all you haue done
Hath bene but for a wayward Sonne,
Spightfull, and wrathfull, who (as others do)
Loues for his owne ends, not for you.
But make amends now: Get you gon,
And at the pit of Acheron
Meete me i'th' Morning: thither he
Will come, to know his Destinie.
Your Vessels, and your Spels prouide,
Your Charmes, and euery thing beside;
I am for th' Ayre: This night Ile spend
Vnto a dismall, and a Fatall end.
Great businesse must be wrought ere Noone.
Vpon the Corner of the Moone
There hangs a vap'rous drop, profound,
Ile catch it ere it come to ground;
And that distill'd by Magicke slights,
Shall raise such Artificiall Sprights,
As by the strength of their illusion,
Shall draw him on to his Confusion.
He shall spurne Fate, scorne Death, and beare
His hopes 'boue Wisedome, Grace, and Feare:
And you all know, Security
Is Mortals cheefest Enemie.

Musicke, and a Song.

Hearke, I am call'd: my little Spirit see
Sits in Foggy cloud, and stayes for me.

Sing within. Come away, come away, &c.

  1 Come, let's make hast, shee'l soone be
Backe againe.

Exeunt.


Scaena Sexta.

Enter Lenox, and another Lord.

  Lenox. My former Speeches,
Haue but hit your Thoughts
Which can interpret farther: Onely I say
Things haue bin strangely borne. The gracious Duncan
Was pittied of Macbeth: marry he was dead:
And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too late,
Whom you may say (if't please you) Fleans kill'd,
For Fleans fled: Men must not walke too late.
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous
It was for Malcolme, and for Donalbane
To kill their gracious Father? Damned Fact,
How it did greeue Macbeth? Did he not straight
In pious rage, the two delinquents teare,
That were the Slaues of drinke, and thralles of sleepe?
Was not that Nobly done? I, and wisely too:
For 'twould haue anger'd any heart aliue
To heare the men deny't. So that I say,
He ha's borne all things well, and I do thinke,
That had he Duncans Sonnes vnder his Key,
(As, and't please Heauen he shall not) they should finde
What 'twere to kill a Father: So should Fleans.
But peace; for from broad words, and cause he fayl'd
His presence at the Tyrants Feast, I heare
Macduffe liues in disgrace. Sir, can you tell
Where he bestowes himselfe?
  Lord. The Sonnes of Duncane
(From whom this Tyrant holds the due of Birth)
Liues in the English Court, and is receyu'd
Of the most Pious Edward, with such grace,
That the maleuolence of Fortune, nothing
Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduffe
Is gone, to pray the Holy King, vpon his ayd
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Seyward,
That by the helpe of these (with him aboue)
To ratifie the Worke) we may againe
Giue to our Tables meate, sleepe to our Nights:
Free from our Feasts, and Banquets bloody kniues;
Do faithfull Homage, and receiue free Honors,
All which we pine for now. And this report
Hath so exasperate their King, that hee
Prepares for some attempt of Warre

   Len. Sent he to Macduffe?
  Lord. He did: and with an absolute Sir, not I
The clowdy Messenger turnes me his backe,
And hums; as who should say, you'l rue the time
That clogges me with this Answer

   Lenox. And that well might
Aduise him to a Caution, t' hold what distance
His wisedome can prouide. Some holy Angell
Flye to the Court of England, and vnfold
His Message ere he come, that a swift blessing
May soone returne to this our suffering Country,
Vnder a hand accurs'd

   Lord. Ile send my Prayers with him.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

  1 Thrice the brinded Cat hath mew'd

   2 Thrice, and once the Hedge-Pigge whin'd

   3 Harpier cries, 'tis time, 'tis time

   1 Round about the Caldron go:
In the poysond Entrailes throw
Toad, that vnder cold stone,
Dayes and Nights, ha's thirty one:
Sweltred Venom sleeping got,
Boyle thou first i'th' charmed pot

   All. Double, double, toile and trouble;
Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble

   2 Fillet of a Fenny Snake,
In the Cauldron boyle and bake:
Eye of Newt, and Toe of Frogge,
Wooll of Bat, and Tongue of Dogge:
Adders Forke, and Blinde-wormes Sting,
Lizards legge, and Howlets wing:
For a Charme of powrefull trouble,
Like a Hell-broth, boyle and bubble

   All. Double, double, toyle and trouble,
Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble

   3 Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolfe,
Witches Mummey, Maw, and Gulfe
Of the rauin'd salt Sea sharke:
Roote of Hemlocke, digg'd i'th' darke:
Liuer of Blaspheming Iew,
Gall of Goate, and Slippes of Yew,
Sliuer'd in the Moones Ecclipse:
Nose of Turke, and Tartars lips:
Finger of Birth-strangled Babe,
Ditch-deliuer'd by a Drab,
Make the Grewell thicke, and slab.
Adde thereto a Tigers Chawdron,
For th' Ingredience of our Cawdron

   All. Double, double, toyle and trouble,
Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble

   2 Coole it with a Baboones blood,
Then the Charme is firme and good.
Enter Hecat, and the other three Witches.

  Hec. O well done: I commend your paines,
And euery one shall share i'th' gaines:
And now about the Cauldron sing
Like Elues and Fairies in a Ring,
Inchanting all that you put in.

Musicke and a Song. Blacke Spirits, &c.

  2 By the pricking of my Thumbes,
Something wicked this way comes:
Open Lockes, who euer knockes.
Enter Macbeth.

  Macb. How now you secret, black, & midnight Hags?
What is't you do?
  All. A deed without a name

   Macb. I coniure you, by that which you Professe,
(How ere you come to know it) answer me:
Though you vntye the Windes, and let them fight
Against the Churches: Though the yesty Waues
Confound and swallow Nauigation vp:
Though bladed Corne be lodg'd, & Trees blown downe,
Though Castles topple on their Warders heads:
Though Pallaces, and Pyramids do slope
Their heads to their Foundations: Though the treasure
Of Natures Germaine, tumble altogether,
Euen till destruction sicken: Answer me
To what I aske you

   1 Speake

   2 Demand

   3 Wee'l answer

   1 Say, if th'hadst rather heare it from our mouthes,
Or from our Masters

   Macb. Call 'em: let me see 'em

   1 Powre in Sowes blood, that hath eaten
Her nine Farrow: Greaze that's sweaten
From the Murderers Gibbet, throw
Into the Flame

   All. Come high or low:
Thy Selfe and Office deaftly show.
Thunder. 1. Apparation, an Armed Head.

  Macb. Tell me, thou vnknowne power

   1 He knowes thy thought:
Heare his speech, but say thou nought

   1 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth:
Beware Macduffe,
Beware the Thane of Fife: dismisse me. Enough.

He Descends.

  Macb. What ere thou art, for thy good caution, thanks
Thou hast harp'd my feare aright. But one word more

   1 He will not be commanded: heere's another
More potent then the first.

Thunder. 2 Apparition, a Bloody Childe.

  2 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth

   Macb. Had I three eares, Il'd heare thee

   Appar. Be bloody, bold, & resolute:
Laugh to scorne
The powre of man: For none of woman borne
Shall harme Macbeth.

Descends.

  Mac. Then liue Macduffe: what need I feare of thee?
But yet Ile make assurance: double sure,
And take a Bond of Fate: thou shalt not liue,
That I may tell pale-hearted Feare, it lies;
And sleepe in spight of Thunder.

Thunder 3 Apparation, a Childe Crowned, with a Tree in his hand.

What is this, that rises like the issue of a King,
And weares vpon his Baby-brow, the round
And top of Soueraignty?
  All. Listen, but speake not too't

   3 Appar. Be Lyon metled, proud, and take no care:
Who chafes, who frets, or where Conspirers are:
Macbeth shall neuer vanquish'd be, vntill
Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunsmane Hill
Shall come against him.

Descend.

  Macb. That will neuer bee:
Who can impresse the Forrest, bid the Tree
Vnfixe his earth-bound Root? Sweet boadments, good:
Rebellious dead, rise neuer till the Wood
Of Byrnan rise, and our high plac'd Macbeth
Shall liue the Lease of Nature, pay his breath
To time, and mortall Custome. Yet my Hart
Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, if your Art
Can tell so much: Shall Banquo's issue euer
Reigne in this Kingdome?
  All. Seeke to know no more

   Macb. I will be satisfied. Deny me this,
And an eternall Curse fall on you: Let me know.
Why sinkes that Caldron? & what noise is this?

Hoboyes

  1 Shew

   2 Shew

   3 Shew

   All. Shew his Eyes, and greeue his Hart,
Come like shadowes, so depart.

A shew of eight Kings, and Banquo last, with a glasse in his hand.

  Macb. Thou art too like the Spirit of Banquo: Down:
Thy Crowne do's seare mine Eye-bals. And thy haire
Thou other Gold-bound-brow, is like the first:
A third, is like the former. Filthy Hagges,
Why do you shew me this? - A fourth? Start eyes!
What will the Line stretch out to'th' cracke of Doome?
Another yet? A seauenth? Ile see no more:
And yet the eighth appeares, who beares a glasse,
Which shewes me many more: and some I see,
That two-fold Balles, and trebble Scepters carry.
Horrible sight: Now I see 'tis true,
For the Blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles vpon me,
And points at them for his. What? is this so?
  1 I Sir, all this is so. But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
Come Sisters, cheere we vp his sprights,
And shew the best of our delights.
Ile Charme the Ayre to giue a sound,
While you performe your Antique round:
That this great King may kindly say,
Our duties, did his welcome pay.

Musicke. The Witches Dance, and vanish.

  Macb. Where are they? Gone?
Let this pernitious houre,
Stand aye accursed in the Kalender.
Come in, without there.
Enter Lenox.

  Lenox. What's your Graces will

   Macb. Saw you the Weyard Sisters?
  Lenox. No my Lord

   Macb. Came they not by you?
  Lenox. No indeed my Lord

   Macb. Infected be the Ayre whereon they ride,
And damn'd all those that trust them. I did heare
The gallopping of Horse. Who was't came by?
  Len. 'Tis two or three my Lord, that bring you word:
Macduff is fled to England

   Macb. Fled to England?
  Len. I, my good Lord

   Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits:
The flighty purpose neuer is o're-tooke
Vnlesse the deed go with it. From this moment,
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And euen now
To Crown my thoughts with Acts: be it thoght & done:
The Castle of Macduff, I will surprize.
Seize vpon Fife; giue to th' edge o'th' Sword
His Wife, his Babes, and all vnfortunate Soules
That trace him in his Line. No boasting like a Foole,
This deed Ile do, before this purpose coole,
But no more sights. Where are these Gentlemen?
Come bring me where they are.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Rosse.

  Wife. What had he done, to make him fly the Land?
  Rosse. You must haue patience Madam

   Wife. He had none:
His flight was madnesse: when our Actions do not,
Our feares do make vs Traitors

   Rosse. You know not
Whether it was his wisedome, or his feare

   Wife. Wisedom? to leaue his wife, to leaue his Babes,
His Mansion, and his Titles, in a place
From whence himselfe do's flye? He loues vs not,
He wants the naturall touch. For the poore Wren
(The most diminitiue of Birds) will fight,
Her yong ones in her Nest, against the Owle:
All is the Feare, and nothing is the Loue;
As little is the Wisedome, where the flight
So runnes against all reason

   Rosse. My deerest Cooz,
I pray you schoole your selfe. But for your Husband,
He is Noble, Wise, Iudicious, and best knowes
The fits o'th' Season. I dare not speake much further,
But cruell are the times, when we are Traitors
And do not know our selues: when we hold Rumor
From what we feare, yet know not what we feare,
But floate vpon a wilde and violent Sea
Each way, and moue. I take my leaue of you:
Shall not be long but Ile be heere againe:
Things at the worst will cease, or else climbe vpward,
To what they were before. My pretty Cosine,
Blessing vpon you

   Wife. Father'd he is,
And yet hee's Father-lesse

   Rosse. I am so much a Foole, should I stay longer
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort.
I take my leaue at once.

Exit Rosse.

  Wife. Sirra, your Fathers dead,
And what will you do now? How will you liue?
  Son. As Birds do Mother

   Wife. What with Wormes, and Flyes?
  Son. With what I get I meane, and so do they

   Wife. Poore Bird,
Thou'dst neuer Feare the Net, nor Lime,
The Pitfall, nor the Gin

   Son. Why should I Mother?
Poore Birds they are not set for:
My Father is not dead for all your saying

   Wife. Yes, he is dead:
How wilt thou do for a Father?
  Son. Nay how will you do for a Husband?
  Wife. Why I can buy me twenty at any Market

   Son. Then you'l by 'em to sell againe

   Wife. Thou speak'st withall thy wit,
And yet I'faith with wit enough for thee

   Son. Was my Father a Traitor, Mother?
  Wife. I, that he was

   Son. What is a Traitor?
  Wife. Why one that sweares, and lyes

   Son. And be all Traitors, that do so

   Wife. Euery one that do's so, is a Traitor,
And must be hang'd

   Son. And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lye?
  Wife. Euery one

   Son. Who must hang them?
  Wife. Why, the honest men

   Son. Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there
are Lyars and Swearers enow, to beate the honest men,
and hang vp them

   Wife. Now God helpe thee, poore Monkie:
But how wilt thou do for a Father?
  Son. If he were dead, youl'd weepe for him: if you
would not, it were a good signe, that I should quickely
haue a new Father

   Wife. Poore pratler, how thou talk'st?
Enter a Messenger.

  Mes. Blesse you faire Dame: I am not to you known,
Though in your state of Honor I am perfect;
I doubt some danger do's approach you neerely.
If you will take a homely mans aduice,
Be not found heere: Hence with your little ones
To fright you thus. Me thinkes I am too sauage:
To do worse to you, were fell Cruelty,
Which is too nie your person. Heauen preserue you,
I dare abide no longer.

Exit Messenger

  Wife. Whether should I flye?
I haue done no harme. But I remember now
I am in this earthly world: where to do harme
Is often laudable, to do good sometime
Accounted dangerous folly. Why then (alas)
Do I put vp that womanly defence,
To say I haue done no harme?
What are these faces?
Enter Murtherers.

  Mur. Where is your Husband?
  Wife. I hope in no place so vnsanctified,
Where such as thou may'st finde him

   Mur. He's a Traitor

   Son. Thou ly'st thou shagge-ear'd Villaine

   Mur. What you Egge?
Yong fry of Treachery?
  Son. He ha's kill'd me Mother,
Run away I pray you.

Exit crying Murther.


Scaena Tertia.

Enter Malcolme and Macduffe.

  Mal. Let vs seeke out some desolate shade, & there
Weepe our sad bosomes empty

   Macd. Let vs rather
Hold fast the mortall Sword: and like good men,
Bestride our downfall Birthdome: each new Morne,
New Widdowes howle, new Orphans cry, new sorowes
Strike heauen on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out
Like Syllable of Dolour

   Mal. What I beleeue, Ile waile;
What know, beleeue; and what I can redresse,
As I shall finde the time to friend: I wil.
What you haue spoke, it may be so perchance.
This Tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you haue lou'd him well,
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am yong, but something
You may discerne of him through me, and wisedome
To offer vp a weake, poore innocent Lambe
T' appease an angry God

   Macd. I am not treacherous

   Malc. But Macbeth is.
A good and vertuous Nature may recoyle
In an Imperiall charge. But I shall craue your pardon:
That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose;
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
Though all things foule, would wear the brows of grace
Yet Grace must still looke so

   Macd. I haue lost my Hopes

   Malc. Perchance euen there
Where I did finde my doubts.
Why in that rawnesse left you Wife, and Childe?
Those precious Motiues, those strong knots of Loue,
Without leaue-taking. I pray you,
Let not my Iealousies, be your Dishonors,
But mine owne Safeties: you may be rightly iust,
What euer I shall thinke

   Macd. Bleed, bleed poore Country,
Great Tyrrany, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodnesse dare not check thee: wear y thy wrongs,
The Title, is affear'd. Far thee well Lord,
I would not be the Villaine that thou think'st,
For the whole Space that's in the Tyrants Graspe,
And the rich East to boot

   Mal. Be not offended:
I speake not as in absolute feare of you:
I thinke our Country sinkes beneath the yoake,
It weepes, it bleeds, and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds. I thinke withall,
There would be hands vplifted in my right:
And heere from gracious England haue I offer
Of goodly thousands. But for all this,
When I shall treade vpon the Tyrants head,
Or weare it on my Sword; yet my poore Country
Shall haue more vices then it had before,
More suffer, and more sundry wayes then euer,
By him that shall succeede

   Macd. What should he be?
  Mal. It is my selfe I meane: in whom I know
All the particulars of Vice so grafted,
That when they shall be open'd, blacke Macbeth
Will seeme as pure as Snow, and the poore State
Esteeme him as a Lambe, being compar'd
With my confinelesse harmes

   Macd. Not in the Legions
Of horrid Hell, can come a Diuell more damn'd
In euils, to top Macbeth

   Mal. I grant him Bloody,
Luxurious, Auaricious, False, Deceitfull,
Sodaine, Malicious, smacking of euery sinne
That ha's a name. But there's no bottome, none
In my Voluptuousnesse: Your Wiues, your Daughters,
Your Matrons, and your Maides, could not fill vp
The Cesterne of my Lust, and my Desire
All continent Impediments would ore-beare
That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth,
Then such an one to reigne

   Macd. Boundlesse intemperance
In Nature is a Tyranny: It hath beene
Th' vntimely emptying of the happy Throne,
And fall of many Kings. But feare not yet
To take vpon you what is yours: you may
Conuey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet seeme cold. The time you may so hoodwinke:
We haue willing Dames enough: there cannot be
That Vulture in you, to deuoure so many
As will to Greatnesse dedicate themselues,
Finding it so inclinde

   Mal. With this, there growes
In my most ill-composd Affection, such
A stanchlesse Auarice, that were I King,
I should cut off the Nobles for their Lands,
Desire his Iewels, and this others House,
And my more-hauing, would be as a Sawce
To make me hunger more, that I should forge
Quarrels vniust against the Good and Loyall,
Destroying them for wealth

   Macd. This Auarice
stickes deeper: growes with more pernicious roote
Then Summer-seeming Lust: and it hath bin
The Sword of our slaine Kings: yet do not feare,
Scotland hath Foysons, to fill vp your will
Of your meere Owne. All these are portable,
With other Graces weigh'd

   Mal. But I haue none. The King-becoming Graces,
As Iustice, Verity, Temp'rance, Stablenesse,
Bounty, Perseuerance, Mercy, Lowlinesse,
Deuotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude,
I haue no rellish of them, but abound
In the diuision of each seuerall Crime,
Acting it many wayes. Nay, had I powre, I should
Poure the sweet Milke of Concord, into Hell,
Vprore the vniuersall peace, confound
All vnity on earth

   Macd. O Scotland, Scotland

   Mal. If such a one be fit to gouerne, speake:
I am as I haue spoken

   Mac. Fit to gouern? No not to liue. O Natio[n] miserable!
With an vntitled Tyrant, bloody Sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholsome dayes againe?
Since that the truest Issue of thy Throne
By his owne Interdiction stands accust,
And do's blaspheme his breed? Thy Royall Father
Was a most Sainted-King: the Queene that bore thee,
Oftner vpon her knees, then on her feet,
Dy'de euery day she liu'd. Fare thee well,
These Euils thou repeat'st vpon thy selfe,
Hath banish'd me from Scotland. O my Brest,
Thy hope ends heere

   Mal. Macduff, this Noble passion
Childe of integrity, hath from my soule
Wip'd the blacke Scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts
To thy good Truth, and Honor. Diuellish Macbeth,
By many of these traines, hath sought to win me
Into his power: and modest Wisedome pluckes me
From ouer-credulous hast: but God aboue
Deale betweene thee and me; For euen now
I put my selfe to thy Direction, and
Vnspeake mine owne detraction. Heere abiure
The taints, and blames I laide vpon my selfe,
For strangers to my Nature. I am yet
Vnknowne to Woman, neuer was forsworne,
Scarsely haue coueted what was mine owne.
At no time broke my Faith, would not betray
The Deuill to his Fellow, and delight
No lesse in truth then life. My first false speaking
Was this vpon my selfe. What I am truly
Is thine, and my poore Countries to command:
Whither indeed, before they heere approach
Old Seyward with ten thousand warlike men
Already at a point, was setting foorth:
Now wee'l together, and the chance of goodnesse
Be like our warranted Quarrell. Why are you silent?
  Macd. Such welcome, and vnwelcom things at once
'Tis hard to reconcile.
Enter a Doctor.

  Mal. Well, more anon. Comes the King forth
I pray you?
  Doct. I Sir: there are a crew of wretched Soules
That stay his Cure: their malady conuinces
The great assay of Art. But at his touch,
Such sanctity hath Heauen giuen his hand,
They presently amend.
Enter.

  Mal. I thanke you Doctor

   Macd. What's the Disease he meanes?
  Mal. Tis call'd the Euill.
A most myraculous worke in this good King,
Which often since my heere remaine in England,
I haue seene him do: How he solicites heauen
Himselfe best knowes: but strangely visited people
All swolne and Vlcerous, pittifull to the eye,
The meere dispaire of Surgery, he cures,
Hanging a golden stampe about their neckes,
Put on with holy Prayers, and 'tis spoken
To the succeeding Royalty he leaues
The healing Benediction. With this strange vertue,
He hath a heauenly guift of Prophesie,
And sundry Blessings hang about his Throne,
That speake him full of Grace.
Enter Rosse.

  Macd. See who comes heere

   Malc. My Countryman: but yet I know him not

   Macd. My euer gentle Cozen, welcome hither

   Malc. I know him now. Good God betimes remoue
The meanes that makes vs Strangers

   Rosse. Sir, Amen

   Macd. Stands Scotland where it did?
  Rosse. Alas poore Countrey,
Almost affraid to know it selfe. It cannot
Be call'd our Mother, but our Graue; where nothing
But who knowes nothing, is once seene to smile:
Where sighes, and groanes, and shrieks that rent the ayre
Are made, not mark'd: Where violent sorrow seemes
A Moderne extasie: The Deadmans knell,
Is there scarse ask'd for who, and good mens liues
Expire before the Flowers in their Caps,
Dying, or ere they sicken

   Macd. Oh Relation; too nice, and yet too true

   Malc. What's the newest griefe?
  Rosse. That of an houres age, doth hisse the speaker,
Each minute teemes a new one

   Macd. How do's my Wife?
  Rosse. Why well

   Macd. And all my Children?
  Rosse. Well too

   Macd. The Tyrant ha's not batter'd at their peace?
  Rosse. No, they were wel at peace, when I did leaue 'em
  Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech: How gos't?
  Rosse. When I came hither to transport the Tydings
Which I haue heauily borne, there ran a Rumour
Of many worthy Fellowes, that were out,
Which was to my beleefe witnest the rather,
For that I saw the Tyrants Power a-foot.
Now is the time of helpe: your eye in Scotland
Would create Soldiours, make our women fight,
To doffe their dire distresses

   Malc. Bee't their comfort
We are comming thither: Gracious England hath
Lent vs good Seyward, and ten thousand men,
An older, and a better Souldier, none
That Christendome giues out

   Rosse. Would I could answer
This comfort with the like. But I haue words
That would be howl'd out in the desert ayre,
Where hearing should not latch them

   Macd. What concerne they,
The generall cause, or is it a Fee-griefe
Due to some single brest?
  Rosse. No minde that's honest
But in it shares some woe, though the maine part
Pertaines to you alone

   Macd. If it be mine
Keepe it not from me, quickly let me haue it

   Rosse. Let not your eares dispise my tongue for euer,
Which shall possesse them with the heauiest sound
that euer yet they heard

   Macd. Humh: I guesse at it

   Rosse. Your Castle is surpriz'd: your Wife, and Babes
Sauagely slaughter'd: To relate the manner
Were on the Quarry of these murther'd Deere
To adde the death of you

   Malc. Mercifull Heauen:
What man, ne're pull your hat vpon your browes:
Giue sorrow words; the griefe that do's not speake,
Whispers the o're-fraught heart, and bids it breake

   Macd. My Children too?
  Ro. Wife, Children, Seruants, all that could be found

   Macd. And I must be from thence? My wife kil'd too?
  Rosse. I haue said

   Malc. Be comforted.
Let's make vs Med'cines of our great Reuenge,
To cure this deadly greefe

   Macd. He ha's no Children. All my pretty ones?
Did you say All? Oh Hell-Kite! All?
What, All my pretty Chickens, and their Damme
At one fell swoope?
  Malc. Dispute it like a man

   Macd. I shall do so:
But I must also feele it as a man;
I cannot but remember such things were
That were most precious to me: Did heauen looke on,
And would not take their part? Sinfull Macduff,
They were all strooke for thee: Naught that I am,
Not for their owne demerits, but for mine
Fell slaughter on their soules: Heauen rest them now

   Mal. Be this the Whetstone of your sword, let griefe
Conuert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it

   Macd. O I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And Braggart with my tongue. But gentle Heauens,
Cut short all intermission: Front to Front,
Bring thou this Fiend of Scotland, and my selfe
Within my Swords length set him, if he scape
Heauen forgiue him too

   Mal. This time goes manly:
Come go we to the King, our Power is ready,
Our lacke is nothing but our leaue. Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the Powres aboue
Put on their Instruments: Receiue what cheere you may,
The Night is long, that neuer findes the Day.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting Gentlewoman.

  Doct. I haue too Nights watch'd with you, but can
perceiue no truth in your report. When was it shee last
walk'd?
  Gent. Since his Maiesty went into the Field, I haue
seene her rise from her bed, throw her Night-Gown vppon
her, vnlocke her Closset, take foorth paper, folde it,
write vpon't, read it, afterwards Seale it, and againe returne
to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleepe

   Doct. A great perturbation in Nature, to receyue at
once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching.
In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other
actuall performances, what (at any time) haue you heard
her say?
  Gent. That Sir, which I will not report after her

   Doct. You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should

   Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, hauing no witnesse
to confirme my speech.
Enter Lady, with a Taper.

Lo you, heere she comes: This is her very guise, and vpon
my life fast asleepe: obserue her, stand close

   Doct. How came she by that light?
  Gent. Why it stood by her: she ha's light by her continually,
'tis her command

   Doct. You see her eyes are open

   Gent. I, but their sense are shut

   Doct. What is it she do's now?
Looke how she rubbes her hands

   Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seeme
thus washing her hands: I haue knowne her continue in
this a quarter of an houre

   Lad. Yet heere's a spot

   Doct. Heark, she speaks, I will set downe what comes
from her, to satisfie my remembrance the more strongly

   La. Out damned spot: out I say. One: Two: Why
then 'tis time to doo't: Hell is murky. Fye, my Lord, fie,
a Souldier, and affear'd? what need we feare? who knowes
it, when none can call our powre to accompt: yet who
would haue thought the olde man to haue had so much
blood in him

   Doct. Do you marke that?
  Lad. The Thane of Fife, had a wife: where is she now?
What will these hands ne're be cleane? No more o'that
my Lord, no more o'that: you marre all with this starting

   Doct. Go too, go too:
You haue knowne what you should not

   Gent. She ha's spoke what shee should not, I am sure
of that: Heauen knowes what she ha's knowne

   La. Heere's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes
of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
Oh, oh, oh

   Doct. What a sigh is there? The hart is sorely charg'd

   Gent. I would not haue such a heart in my bosome,
for the dignity of the whole body

   Doct. Well, well, well

   Gent. Pray God it be sir

   Doct. This disease is beyond my practise: yet I haue
knowne those which haue walkt in their sleep, who haue
dyed holily in their beds

   Lad. Wash your hands, put on your Night-Gowne,
looke not so pale: I tell you yet againe Banquo's buried;
he cannot come out on's graue

   Doct. Euen so?
  Lady. To bed, to bed: there's knocking at the gate:
Come, come, come, come, giue me your hand: What's
done, cannot be vndone. To bed, to bed, to bed.

Exit Lady.

  Doct. Will she go now to bed?
  Gent. Directly

   Doct. Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds
Do breed vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes
To their deafe pillowes will discharge their Secrets:
More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian:
God, God forgiue vs all. Looke after her,
Remoue from her the meanes of all annoyance,
And still keepe eyes vpon her: So goodnight,
My minde she ha's mated, and amaz'd my sight.
I thinke, but dare not speake

   Gent. Good night good Doctor.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Drum and Colours. Enter Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, Lenox,
Soldiers.

  Ment. The English powre is neere, led on by Malcolm,
His Vnkle Seyward, and the good Macduff.
Reuenges burne in them: for their deere causes
Would to the bleeding, and the grim Alarme
Excite the mortified man

   Ang. Neere Byrnan wood
Shall we well meet them, that way are they comming

   Cath. Who knowes if Donalbane be with his brother?
  Len. For certaine Sir, he is not: I haue a File
Of all the Gentry; there is Seywards Sonne,
And many vnruffe youths, that euen now
Protest their first of Manhood

   Ment. What do's the Tyrant

   Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly Fortifies:
Some say hee's mad: Others, that lesser hate him,
Do call it valiant Fury, but for certaine
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Within the belt of Rule

   Ang. Now do's he feele
His secret Murthers sticking on his hands,
Now minutely Reuolts vpbraid his Faith-breach:
Those he commands, moue onely in command,
Nothing in loue: Now do's he feele his Title
Hang loose about him, like a Giants Robe
Vpon a dwarfish Theefe

   Ment. Who then shall blame
His pester'd Senses to recoyle, and start,
When all that is within him, do's condemne
It selfe, for being there

   Cath. Well, march we on,
To giue Obedience, where 'tis truly ow'd:
Meet we the Med'cine of the sickly Weale,
And with him poure we in our Countries purge,
Each drop of vs

   Lenox. Or so much as it needes,
To dew the Soueraigne Flower, and drowne the Weeds:
Make we our March towards Birnan.

Exeunt. marching.


Scaena Tertia.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.

  Macb. Bring me no more Reports, let them flye all:
Till Byrnane wood remoue to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with Feare. What's the Boy Malcolme?
Was he not borne of woman? The Spirits that know
All mortall Consequences, haue pronounc'd me thus:
Feare not Macbeth, no man that's borne of woman
Shall ere haue power vpon thee. Then fly false Thanes,
And mingle with the English Epicures,
The minde I sway by, and the heart I beare,
Shall neuer sagge with doubt, nor shake with feare.
Enter Seruant.

The diuell damne thee blacke, thou cream-fac'd Loone:
Where got'st thou that Goose-looke

   Ser. There is ten thousand

   Macb. Geese Villaine?
  Ser. Souldiers Sir

   Macb. Go pricke thy face, and ouer-red thy feare
Thou Lilly-liuer'd Boy. What Soldiers, Patch?
Death of thy Soule, those Linnen cheekes of thine
Are Counsailers to feare. What Soldiers Whay-face?
  Ser. The English Force, so please you

   Macb. Take thy face hence. Seyton, I am sick at hart,
When I behold: Seyton, I say, this push
Will cheere me euer, or dis-eate me now.
I haue liu'd long enough: my way of life
Is falne into the Seare, the yellow Leafe,
And that which should accompany Old-Age,
As Honor, Loue, Obedience, Troopes of Friends,
I must not looke to haue: but in their steed,
Curses, not lowd but deepe, Mouth-honor, breath
Which the poore heart would faine deny, and dare not.
Seyton?
Enter Seyton.

  Sey. What's your gracious pleasure?
  Macb. What Newes more?
  Sey. All is confirm'd my Lord, which was reported

   Macb. Ile fight, till from my bones, my flesh be hackt.
Giue me my Armor

   Seyt. 'Tis not needed yet

   Macb. Ile put it on:
Send out moe Horses, skirre the Country round,
Hang those that talke of Feare. Giue me mine Armor:
How do's your Patient, Doctor?
  Doct. Not so sicke my Lord,
As she is troubled with thicke-comming Fancies
That keepe her from her rest

   Macb. Cure of that:
Can'st thou not Minister to a minde diseas'd,
Plucke from the Memory a rooted Sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the Braine,
And with some sweet Obliuious Antidote
Cleanse the stufft bosome, of that perillous stuffe
Which weighes vpon the heart?
  Doct. Therein the Patient
Must minister to himselfe

   Macb. Throw Physicke to the Dogs, Ile none of it.
Come, put mine Armour on: giue me my Staffe:
Seyton, send out: Doctor, the Thanes flye from me:
Come sir, dispatch. If thou could'st Doctor, cast
The Water of my Land, finde her Disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine Health,
I would applaud thee to the very Eccho,
That should applaud againe. Pull't off I say,
What Rubarb, Cyme, or what Purgatiue drugge
Would scowre these English hence: hear'st y of them?
  Doct. I my good Lord: your Royall Preparation
Makes vs heare something

   Macb. Bring it after me:
I will not be affraid of Death and Bane,
Till Birnane Forrest come to Dunsinane

   Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away, and cleere,
Profit againe should hardly draw me heere.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe,
Seywards Sonne,
Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, and Soldiers Marching.

  Malc. Cosins, I hope the dayes are neere at hand
That Chambers will be safe

   Ment. We doubt it nothing

   Seyw. What wood is this before vs?
  Ment. The wood of Birnane

   Malc. Let euery Souldier hew him downe a Bough,
And bear't before him, thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our Hoast, and make discouery
Erre in report of vs

   Sold. It shall be done

   Syw. We learne no other, but the confident Tyrant
Keepes still in Dunsinane, and will indure
Our setting downe befor't

   Malc. 'Tis his maine hope:
For where there is aduantage to be giuen,
Both more and lesse haue giuen him the Reuolt,
And none serue with him, but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too

   Macd. Let our iust Censures
Attend the true euent, and put we on
Industrious Souldiership

   Sey. The time approaches,
That will with due decision make vs know
What we shall say we haue, and what we owe:
Thoughts speculatiue, their vnsure hopes relate,
But certaine issue, stroakes must arbitrate,
Towards which, aduance the warre.

Exeunt. marching

Scena Quinta.

Enter Macbeth, Seyton, & Souldiers, with Drum and Colours.

  Macb. Hang out our Banners on the outward walls,
The Cry is still, they come: our Castles strength
Will laugh a Siedge to scorne: Heere let them lye,
Till Famine and the Ague eate them vp:
Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours,
We might haue met them darefull, beard to beard,
And beate them backward home. What is that noyse?

A Cry within of Women.

  Sey. It is the cry of women, my good Lord

   Macb. I haue almost forgot the taste of Feares:
The time ha's beene, my sences would haue cool'd
To heare a Night-shrieke, and my Fell of haire
Would at a dismall Treatise rowze, and stirre
As life were in't. I haue supt full with horrors,
Direnesse familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry?
  Sey. The Queene (my Lord) is dead

   Macb. She should haue dy'de heereafter;
There would haue beene a time for such a word:
To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow,
Creepes in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last Syllable of Recorded time:
And all our yesterdayes, haue lighted Fooles
The way to dusty death. Out, out, breefe Candle,
Life's but a walking Shadow, a poore Player,
That struts and frets his houre vpon the Stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a Tale
Told by an Ideot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.
Enter a Messenger.

Thou com'st to vse thy Tongue: thy Story quickly

   Mes. Gracious my Lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to doo't

   Macb. Well, say sir

   Mes. As I did stand my watch vpon the Hill
I look'd toward Byrnane, and anon me thought
The Wood began to moue

   Macb. Lyar, and Slaue

   Mes. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
Within this three Mile may you see it comming.
I say, a mouing Groue

   Macb. If thou speak'st false,
Vpon the next Tree shall thou hang aliue
Till Famine cling thee: If thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.
I pull in Resolution, and begin
To doubt th' Equiuocation of the Fiend,
That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnane Wood
Do come to Dunsinane, and now a Wood
Comes toward Dunsinane. Arme, Arme, and out,
If this which he auouches, do's appeare,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.
I 'ginne to be a-weary of the Sun,
And wish th' estate o'th' world were now vndon.
Ring the Alarum Bell, blow Winde, come wracke,
At least wee'l dye with Harnesse on our backe.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Drumme and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, and
their Army,
with Boughes.

  Mal. Now neere enough:
Your leauy Skreenes throw downe,
And shew like those you are: You (worthy Vnkle)
Shall with my Cosin your right Noble Sonne
Leade our first Battell. Worthy Macduffe, and wee
Shall take vpon's what else remaines to do,
According to our order

   Sey. Fare you well:
Do we but finde the Tyrants power to night,
Let vs be beaten, if we cannot fight

   Macd. Make all our Trumpets speak, giue the[m] all breath
Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death.

Exeunt.

Alarums continued.


Scena Septima.

Enter Macbeth.

  Macb. They haue tied me to a stake, I cannot flye,
But Beare-like I must fight the course. What's he
That was not borne of Woman? Such a one
Am I to feare, or none.
Enter young Seyward.

  Y.Sey. What is thy name?
  Macb. Thou'lt be affraid to heare it

   Y.Sey. No: though thou call'st thy selfe a hoter name
Then any is in hell

   Macb. My name's Macbeth

   Y.Sey. The diuell himselfe could not pronounce a Title
More hatefull to mine eare

   Macb. No: nor more fearefull

   Y.Sey. Thou lyest abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword
Ile proue the lye thou speak'st.

Fight, and young Seyward slaine.

  Macb. Thou was't borne of woman;
But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorne,
Brandish'd by man that's of a Woman borne.
Enter.

Alarums. Enter Macduffe.

  Macd. That way the noise is: Tyrant shew thy face,
If thou beest slaine, and with no stroake of mine,
My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me still:
I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose armes
Are hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth,
Or else my Sword with an vnbattered edge
I sheath againe vndeeded. There thou should'st be,
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seemes bruited. Let me finde him Fortune,
And more I begge not.

Exit. Alarums.

Enter Malcolme and Seyward.

  Sey. This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred:
The Tyrants people, on both sides do fight,
The Noble Thanes do brauely in the Warre,
The day almost it selfe professes yours,
And little is to do

   Malc. We haue met with Foes
That strike beside vs

   Sey. Enter Sir, the Castle.

Exeunt. Alarum

Enter Macbeth.

  Macb. Why should I play the Roman Foole, and dye
On mine owne sword? whiles I see liues, the gashes
Do better vpon them.
Enter Macduffe.

  Macd. Turne Hell-hound, turne

   Macb. Of all men else I haue auoyded thee:
But get thee backe, my soule is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already

   Macd. I haue no words,
My voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villaine
Then tearmes can giue thee out.

Fight: Alarum

  Macb. Thou loosest labour
As easie may'st thou the intrenchant Ayre
With thy keene Sword impresse, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Crests,
I beare a charmed Life, which must not yeeld
To one of woman borne

   Macd. Dispaire thy Charme,
And let the Angell whom thou still hast seru'd
Tell thee, Macduffe was from his Mothers womb
Vntimely ript

   Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tels mee so;
For it hath Cow'd my better part of man:
And be these Iugling Fiends no more beleeu'd,
That palter with vs in a double sence,
That keepe the word of promise to our eare,
And breake it to our hope. Ile not fight with thee

   Macd. Then yeeld thee Coward,
And liue to be the shew, and gaze o'th' time.
Wee'l haue thee, as our rarer Monsters are
Painted vpon a pole, and vnder-writ,
Heere may you see the Tyrant

   Macb. I will not yeeld
To kisse the ground before young Malcolmes feet,
And to be baited with the Rabbles curse.
Though Byrnane wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman borne,
Yet I will try the last. Before my body,
I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on Macduffe,
And damn'd be him, that first cries hold, enough.

Exeunt. fighting. Alarums.

Enter Fighting, and Macbeth slaine.

Retreat, and Flourish. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Malcolm,
Seyward,
Rosse, Thanes, & Soldiers.

  Mal. I would the Friends we misse, were safe arriu'd

   Sey. Some must go off: and yet by these I see,
So great a day as this is cheapely bought

   Mal. Macduffe is missing, and your Noble Sonne

   Rosse. Your son my Lord, ha's paid a souldiers debt,
He onely liu'd but till he was a man,
The which no sooner had his Prowesse confirm'd
In the vnshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he dy'de

   Sey. Then he is dead?
  Rosse. I, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end

   Sey. Had he his hurts before?
  Rosse. I, on the Front

   Sey. Why then, Gods Soldier be he:
Had I as many Sonnes, as I haue haires,
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And so his Knell is knoll'd

   Mal. Hee's worth more sorrow,
and that Ile spend for him

   Sey. He's worth no more,
They say he parted well, and paid his score,
And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort.
Enter Macduffe, with Macbeths head.

  Macd. Haile King, for so thou art.
Behold where stands
Th' Vsurpers cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compast with thy Kingdomes Pearle,
That speake my salutation in their minds:
Whose voyces I desire alowd with mine.
Haile King of Scotland

   All. Haile King of Scotland.

Flourish.

  Mal. We shall not spend a large expence of time,
Before we reckon with your seuerall loues,
And make vs euen with you. My Thanes and Kinsmen
Henceforth be Earles, the first that euer Scotland
In such an Honor nam'd: What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,
As calling home our exil'd Friends abroad,
That fled the Snares of watchfull Tyranny,
Producing forth the cruell Ministers
Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend-like Queene;
Who (as 'tis thought) by selfe and violent hands,
Tooke off her life. This, and what need full else
That call's vpon vs, by the Grace of Grace,
We will performe in measure, time, and place:
So thankes to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we inuite, to see vs Crown'd at Scone.

Flourish. Exeunt Omnes.


FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF MACBETH.

The Tragedie of Hamlet

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Barnardo and Francisco two Centinels.

  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
your selfe

   Bar. Long liue the King

   Fran. Barnardo?
  Bar. He

   Fran. You come most carefully vpon your houre

   Bar. 'Tis now strook twelue, get thee to bed Francisco

   Fran. For this releefe much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold,
And I am sicke at heart

   Barn. Haue you had quiet Guard?
  Fran. Not a Mouse stirring

   Barn. Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and
Marcellus, the Riuals of my Watch, bid them make hast.
Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

  Fran. I thinke I heare them. Stand: who's there?
  Hor. Friends to this ground

   Mar. And Leige-men to the Dane

   Fran. Giue you good night

   Mar. O farwel honest Soldier, who hath relieu'd you?
  Fra. Barnardo ha's my place: giue you goodnight.

Exit Fran.

  Mar. Holla Barnardo

   Bar. Say, what is Horatio there?
  Hor. A peece of him

   Bar. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus

   Mar. What, ha's this thing appear'd againe to night

   Bar. I haue seene nothing

   Mar. Horatio saies, 'tis but our Fantasie,
And will not let beleefe take hold of him
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seene of vs,
Therefore I haue intreated him along
With vs, to watch the minutes of this Night,
That if againe this Apparition come,
He may approue our eyes, and speake to it

   Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appeare

   Bar. Sit downe a-while,
And let vs once againe assaile your eares,
That are so fortified against our Story,
What we two Nights haue seene

   Hor. Well, sit we downe,
And let vs heare Barnardo speake of this

   Barn. Last night of all,
When yond same Starre that's Westward from the Pole
Had made his course t' illume that part of Heauen
Where now it burnes, Marcellus and my selfe,
The Bell then beating one

   Mar. Peace, breake thee of:
Enter the Ghost.

Looke where it comes againe

   Barn. In the same figure, like the King that's dead

   Mar. Thou art a Scholler; speake to it Horatio

   Barn. Lookes it not like the King? Marke it Horatio

   Hora. Most like: It harrowes me with fear & wonder
  Barn. It would be spoke too

   Mar. Question it Horatio

   Hor. What art thou that vsurp'st this time of night,
Together with that Faire and Warlike forme
In which the Maiesty of buried Denmarke
Did sometimes march: By Heauen I charge thee speake

   Mar. It is offended

   Barn. See, it stalkes away

   Hor. Stay: speake; speake: I Charge thee, speake.

Exit the Ghost.

  Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer

   Barn. How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale:
Is not this something more then Fantasie?
What thinke you on't?
  Hor. Before my God, I might not this beleeue
Without the sensible and true auouch
Of mine owne eyes

   Mar. Is it not like the King?
  Hor. As thou art to thy selfe,
Such was the very Armour he had on,
When th' Ambitious Norwey combatted:
So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle
He smot the sledded Pollax on the Ice.
'Tis strange

   Mar. Thus twice before, and iust at this dead houre,
With Martiall stalke, hath he gone by our Watch

   Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not:
But in the grosse and scope of my Opinion,
This boades some strange erruption to our State

   Mar. Good now sit downe, & tell me he that knowes
Why this same strict and most obseruant Watch,
So nightly toyles the subiect of the Land,
And why such dayly Cast of Brazon Cannon
And Forraigne Mart for Implements of warre:
Why such impresse of Ship-wrights, whose sore Taske
Do's not diuide the Sunday from the weeke,
What might be toward, that this sweaty hast
Doth make the Night ioynt-Labourer with the day:
Who is't that can informe me?
  Hor. That can I,
At least the whisper goes so: Our last King,
Whose Image euen but now appear'd to vs,
Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway,
(Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate Pride)
Dar'd to the Combate. In which, our Valiant Hamlet,
(For so this side of our knowne world esteem'd him)
Did slay this Fortinbras: who by a Seal'd Compact,
Well ratified by Law, and Heraldrie,
Did forfeite (with his life) all those his Lands
Which he stood seiz'd on, to the Conqueror:
Against the which, a Moity competent
Was gaged by our King: which had return'd
To the Inheritance of Fortinbras,
Had he bin Vanquisher, as by the same Cou'nant
And carriage of the Article designe,
His fell to Hamlet. Now sir, young Fortinbras,
Of vnimproued Mettle, hot and full,
Hath in the skirts of Norway, heere and there,
Shark'd vp a List of Landlesse Resolutes,
For Foode and Diet, to some Enterprize
That hath a stomacke in't: which is no other
(And it doth well appeare vnto our State)
But to recouer of vs by strong hand
And termes Compulsatiue, those foresaid Lands
So by his Father lost: and this (I take it)
Is the maine Motiue of our Preparations,
The Sourse of this our Watch, and the cheefe head
Of this post-hast, and Romage in the Land.
Enter Ghost againe.

But soft, behold: Loe, where it comes againe:
Ile crosse it, though it blast me. Stay Illusion:
If thou hast any sound, or vse of Voyce,
Speake to me. If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do ease, and grace to me; speak to me.
If thou art priuy to thy Countries Fate
(Which happily foreknowing may auoyd) Oh speake.
Or, if thou hast vp-hoorded in thy life
Extorted Treasure in the wombe of Earth,
(For which, they say, you Spirits oft walke in death)
Speake of it. Stay, and speake. Stop it Marcellus

   Mar. Shall I strike at it with my Partizan?
  Hor. Do, if it will not stand

   Barn. 'Tis heere

   Hor. 'Tis heere

   Mar. 'Tis gone.

Exit Ghost.

We do it wrong, being so Maiesticall
To offer it the shew of Violence,
For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable,
And our vaine blowes, malicious Mockery

   Barn. It was about to speake, when the Cocke crew

   Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing
Vpon a fearfull Summons. I haue heard,
The Cocke that is the Trumpet to the day,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding Throate
Awake the God of Day: and at his warning,
Whether in Sea, or Fire, in Earth, or Ayre,
Th' extrauagant, and erring Spirit, hyes
To his Confine. And of the truth heerein,
This present Obiect made probation

   Mar. It faded on the crowing of the Cocke.
Some sayes, that euer 'gainst that Season comes
Wherein our Sauiours Birch is celebrated,
The Bird of Dawning singeth all night long:
And then (they say) no Spirit can walke abroad,
The nights are wholsome, then no Planets strike,
No Faiery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme:
So hallow'd, and so gracious is the time

   Hor. So haue I heard, and do in part beleeue it.
But looke, the Morne in Russet mantle clad,
Walkes o're the dew of yon high Easterne Hill,
Breake we our Watch vp, and by my aduice
Let vs impart what we haue seene to night
Vnto yong Hamlet. For vpon my life,
This Spirit dumbe to vs, will speake to him:
Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
As needfull in our Loues, fitting our Duty?
  Mar. Let do't I pray, and I this morning know
Where we shall finde him most conueniently.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Claudius King of Denmarke, Gertrude the Queene, Hamlet,
Polonius,
Laertes, and his Sister Ophelia, Lords Attendant.

  King. Though yet of Hamlet our deere Brothers death
The memory be greene: and that it vs befitted
To beare our hearts in greefe, and our whole Kingdome
To be contracted in one brow of woe:
Yet so farre hath Discretion fought with Nature,
That we with wisest sorrow thinke on him,
Together with remembrance of our selues.
Therefore our sometimes Sister, now our Queene,
Th' imperiall Ioyntresse of this warlike State,
Haue we, as 'twere, with a defeated ioy,
With one Auspicious, and one Dropping eye,
With mirth in Funerall, and with Dirge in Marriage,
In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole
Taken to Wife; nor haue we heerein barr'd
Your better Wisedomes, which haue freely gone
With this affaire along, for all our Thankes.
Now followes, that you know young Fortinbras,
Holding a weake supposall of our worth;
Or thinking by our late deere Brothers death,
Our State to be disioynt, and out of Frame,
Colleagued with the dreame of his Aduantage;
He hath not fayl'd to pester vs with Message,
Importing the surrender of those Lands
Lost by his Father: with all Bonds of Law
To our most valiant Brother. So much for him.
Enter Voltemand and Cornelius.

Now for our selfe, and for this time of meeting
Thus much the businesse is. We haue heere writ
To Norway, Vncle of young Fortinbras,
Who Impotent and Bedrid, scarsely heares
Of this his Nephewes purpose, to suppresse
His further gate heerein. In that the Leuies,
The Lists, and full proportions are all made
Out of his subiect: and we heere dispatch
You good Cornelius, and you Voltemand,
For bearing of this greeting to old Norway,
Giuing to you no further personall power
To businesse with the King, more then the scope
Of these dilated Articles allow:
Farewell, and let your hast commend your duty

   Volt. In that, and all things, will we shew our duty

   King. We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell.

Exit Voltemand and Cornelius.

And now Laertes, what's the newes with you?
You told vs of some suite. What is't Laertes?
You cannot speake of Reason to the Dane,
And loose your voyce. What would'st thou beg Laertes,
That shall not be my Offer, not thy Asking?
The Head is not more Natiue to the Heart,
The Hand more instrumentall to the Mouth,
Then is the Throne of Denmarke to thy Father.
What would'st thou haue Laertes?
  Laer. Dread my Lord,
Your leaue and fauour to returne to France,
From whence, though willingly I came to Denmarke
To shew my duty in your Coronation,
Yet now I must confesse, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend againe towards France,
And bow them to your gracious leaue and pardon

   King. Haue you your Fathers leaue?
What sayes Pollonius?
  Pol. He hath my Lord:
I do beseech you giue him leaue to go

   King. Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine,
And thy best graces spend it at thy will:
But now my Cosin Hamlet, and my Sonne?
  Ham. A little more then kin, and lesse then kinde

   King. How is it that the Clouds still hang on you?
  Ham. Not so my Lord, I am too much i'th' Sun

   Queen. Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off,
And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke.
Do not for euer with thy veyled lids
Seeke for thy Noble Father in the dust;
Thou know'st 'tis common, all that liues must dye,
Passing through Nature, to Eternity

   Ham. I Madam, it is common

   Queen. If it be;
Why seemes it so particular with thee

   Ham. Seemes Madam? Nay, it is: I know not Seemes:
'Tis not alone my Inky Cloake (good Mother)
Nor Customary suites of solemne Blacke,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitfull Riuer in the Eye,
Nor the deiected hauiour of the Visage,
Together with all Formes, Moods, shewes of Griefe,
That can denote me truly. These indeed Seeme,
For they are actions that a man might play:
But I haue that Within, which passeth show;
These, but the Trappings, and the Suites of woe

   King. 'Tis sweet and commendable
In your Nature Hamlet,
To giue these mourning duties to your Father:
But you must know, your Father lost a Father,
That Father lost, lost his, and the Suruiuer bound
In filiall Obligation, for some terme
To do obsequious Sorrow. But to perseuer
In obstinate Condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornnesse. 'Tis vnmanly greefe,
It shewes a will most incorrect to Heauen,
A Heart vnfortified, a Minde impatient,
An Vnderstanding simple, and vnschool'd:
For, what we know must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sence,
Why should we in our peeuish Opposition
Take it to heart? Fye, 'tis a fault to Heauen,
A fault against the Dead, a fault to Nature,
To Reason most absurd, whose common Theame
Is death of Fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first Coarse, till he that dyed to day,
This must be so. We pray you throw to earth
This vnpreuayling woe, and thinke of vs
As of a Father; For let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our Throne,
And with no lesse Nobility of Loue,
Then that which deerest Father beares his Sonne,
Do I impart towards you. For your intent
In going backe to Schoole in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire:
And we beseech you, bend you to remaine
Heere in the cheere and comfort of our eye,
Our cheefest Courtier Cosin, and our Sonne

   Qu. Let not thy Mother lose her Prayers Hamlet:
I prythee stay with vs, go not to Wittenberg

   Ham. I shall in all my best
Obey you Madam

   King. Why 'tis a louing, and a faire Reply,
Be as our selfe in Denmarke. Madam come,
This gentle and vnforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,
No iocond health that Denmarke drinkes to day,
But the great Cannon to the Clowds shall tell,
And the Kings Rouce, the Heauens shall bruite againe,
Respeaking earthly Thunder. Come away.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

  Ham. Oh that this too too solid Flesh, would melt,
Thaw, and resolue it selfe into a Dew:
Or that the Euerlasting had not fixt
His Cannon 'gainst Selfe-slaughter. O God, O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and vnprofitable
Seemes to me all the vses of this world?
Fie on't? Oh fie, fie, 'tis an vnweeded Garden
That growes to Seed: Things rank, and grosse in Nature
Possesse it meerely. That it should come to this:
But two months dead: Nay, not so much; not two,
So excellent a King, that was to this
Hiperion to a Satyre: so louing to my Mother,
That he might not beteene the windes of heauen
Visit her face too roughly. Heauen and Earth
Must I remember: why she would hang on him,
As if encrease of Appetite had growne
By what is fed on; and yet within a month?
Let me not thinke on't: Frailty, thy name is woman.
A little Month, or ere those shooes were old,
With which she followed my poore Fathers body
Like Niobe, all teares. Why she, euen she.
(O Heauen! A beast that wants discourse of Reason
Would haue mourn'd longer) married with mine Vnkle,
My Fathers Brother: but no more like my Father,
Then I to Hercules. Within a Moneth?
Ere yet the salt of most vnrighteous Teares
Had left the flushing of her gauled eyes,
She married. O most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to Incestuous sheets:
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
But breake my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
Enter Horatio, Barnardo, and Marcellus.

  Hor. Haile to your Lordship

   Ham. I am glad to see you well:
Horatio, or I do forget my selfe

   Hor. The same my Lord,
And your poore Seruant euer

   Ham. Sir my good friend,
Ile change that name with you:
And what make you from Wittenberg Horatio?
Marcellus

   Mar. My good Lord

   Ham. I am very glad to see you: good euen Sir.
But what in faith make you from Wittemberge?
  Hor. A truant disposition, good my Lord

   Ham. I would not haue your Enemy say so;
Nor shall you doe mine eare that violence,
To make it truster of your owne report
Against your selfe. I know you are no Truant:
But what is your affaire in Elsenour?
Wee'l teach you to drinke deepe, ere you depart

   Hor. My Lord, I came to see your Fathers Funerall

   Ham. I pray thee doe not mock me (fellow Student)
I thinke it was to see my Mothers Wedding

   Hor. Indeed my Lord, it followed hard vpon

   Ham. Thrift thrift Horatio: the Funerall Bakt-meats
Did coldly furnish forth the Marriage Tables;
Would I had met my dearest foe in heauen,
Ere I had euer seene that day Horatio.
My father, me thinkes I see my father

   Hor. Oh where my Lord?
  Ham. In my minds eye (Horatio)
  Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly King

   Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all:
I shall not look vpon his like againe

   Hor. My Lord, I thinke I saw him yesternight

   Ham. Saw? Who?
  Hor. My Lord, the King your Father

   Ham. The King my Father?
  Hor. Season your admiration for a while
With an attent eare; till I may deliuer
Vpon the witnesse of these Gentlemen,
This maruell to you

   Ham. For Heauens loue let me heare

   Hor. Two nights together, had these Gentlemen
(Marcellus and Barnardo) on their Watch
In the dead wast and middle of the night
Beene thus encountred. A figure like your Father,
Arm'd at all points exactly, Cap a Pe,
Appeares before them, and with sollemne march
Goes slow and stately: By them thrice he walkt,
By their opprest and feare-surprized eyes,
Within his Truncheons length; whilst they bestil'd
Almost to Ielly with the Act of feare,
Stand dumbe and speake not to him. This to me
In dreadfull secrecie impart they did,
And I with them the third Night kept the Watch,
Whereas they had deliuer'd both in time,
Forme of the thing; each word made true and good,
The Apparition comes. I knew your Father:
These hands are not more like

   Ham. But where was this?
  Mar. My Lord vpon the platforme where we watcht

   Ham. Did you not speake to it?
  Hor. My Lord, I did;
But answere made it none: yet once me thought
It lifted vp it head, and did addresse
It selfe to motion, like as it would speake:
But euen then, the Morning Cocke crew lowd;
And at the sound it shrunke in hast away,
And vanisht from our sight

   Ham. Tis very strange

   Hor. As I doe liue my honourd Lord 'tis true;
And we did thinke it writ downe in our duty
To let you know of it

   Ham. Indeed, indeed Sirs; but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to Night?
  Both. We doe my Lord

   Ham. Arm'd, say you?
  Both. Arm'd, my Lord

   Ham. From top to toe?
  Both. My Lord, from head to foote

   Ham. Then saw you not his face?
  Hor. O yes, my Lord, he wore his Beauer vp

   Ham. What, lookt he frowningly?
  Hor. A countenance more in sorrow then in anger

   Ham. Pale, or red?
  Hor. Nay very pale

   Ham. And fixt his eyes vpon you?
  Hor. Most constantly

   Ham. I would I had beene there

   Hor. It would haue much amaz'd you

   Ham. Very like, very like: staid it long?
  Hor. While one with moderate hast might tell a hundred

   All. Longer, longer

   Hor. Not when I saw't

   Ham. His Beard was grisly? no

   Hor. It was, as I haue seene it in his life,
A Sable Siluer'd

   Ham. Ile watch to Night; perchance 'twill wake againe

   Hor. I warrant you it will

   Ham. If it assume my noble Fathers person,
Ile speake to it, though Hell it selfe should gape
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you haue hitherto conceald this sight;
Let it bee treble in your silence still:
And whatsoeuer els shall hap to night,
Giue it an vnderstanding but no tongue;
I will requite your loues; so fare ye well:
Vpon the Platforme twixt eleuen and twelue,
Ile visit you

   All. Our duty to your Honour.

Exeunt

   Ham. Your loue, as mine to you: farewell.
My Fathers Spirit in Armes? All is not well:
I doubt some foule play: would the Night were come;
Till then sit still my soule; foule deeds will rise,
Though all the earth orewhelm them to mens eies.
Enter.


Scena Tertia


Enter Laertes and Ophelia.

  Laer. My necessaries are imbark't; Farewell:
And Sister, as the Winds giue Benefit,
And Conuoy is assistant; doe not sleepe,
But let me heare from you

   Ophel. Doe you doubt that?
  Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his fauours,
Hold it a fashion and a toy in Bloude;
A Violet in the youth of Primy Nature;
Froward, not permanent; sweet not lasting
The suppliance of a minute? No more

   Ophel. No more but so

   Laer. Thinke it no more:
For nature cressant does not grow alone,
In thewes and Bulke: but as his Temple waxes,
The inward seruice of the Minde and Soule
Growes wide withall. Perhaps he loues you now,
And now no soyle nor cautell doth besmerch
The vertue of his feare: but you must feare
His greatnesse weigh'd, his will is not his owne;
For hee himselfe is subiect to his Birth:
Hee may not, as vnuallued persons doe,
Carue for himselfe; for, on his choyce depends
The sanctity and health of the whole State.
And therefore must his choyce be circumscrib'd
Vnto the voyce and yeelding of that Body,
Whereof he is the Head. Then if he sayes he loues you,
It fits your wisedome so farre to beleeue it;
As he in his peculiar Sect and force
May giue his saying deed: which is no further,
Then the maine voyce of Denmarke goes withall.
Then weight what losse your Honour may sustaine,
If with too credent eare you list his Songs;
Or lose your Heart; or your chast Treasure open
To his vnmastred importunity.
Feare it Ophelia, feare it my deare Sister,
And keepe within the reare of your Affection;
Out of the shot and danger of Desire.
The chariest Maid is Prodigall enough,
If she vnmaske her beauty to the Moone:
Vertue it selfe scapes not calumnious stroakes,
The Canker Galls, the Infants of the Spring
Too oft before the buttons be disclos'd,
And in the Morne and liquid dew of Youth,
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then, best safety lies in feare;
Youth to it selfe rebels, though none else neere

   Ophe. I shall th' effect of this good Lesson keepe,
As watchmen to my heart: but good my Brother
Doe not as some vngracious Pastors doe,
Shew me the steepe and thorny way to Heauen;
Whilst like a puft and recklesse Libertine
Himselfe, the Primrose path of dalliance treads,
And reaks not his owne reade

   Laer. Oh, feare me not.
Enter Polonius.

I stay too long; but here my Father comes:
A double blessing is a double grace;
Occasion smiles vpon a second leaue

   Polon. Yet heere Laertes? Aboord, aboord for shame,
The winde sits in the shoulder of your saile,
And you are staid for there: my blessing with you;
And these few Precepts in thy memory,
See thou Character. Giue thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any vnproportion'd thoughts his Act:
Be thou familiar; but by no meanes vulgar:
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tride,
Grapple them to thy Soule, with hoopes of Steele:
But doe not dull thy palme, with entertainment
Of each vnhatch't, vnfledg'd Comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrell: but being in
Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.
Giue euery man thine eare; but few thy voyce:
Take each mans censure; but reserue thy iudgement:
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy;
But not exprest in fancie; rich, not gawdie:
For the Apparell oft proclaimes the man.
And they in France of the best ranck and station,
Are of a most select and generous cheff in that.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;
For lone oft loses both it selfe and friend:
And borrowing duls the edge of Husbandry.
This aboue all; to thine owne selfe be true:
And it must follow, as the Night the Day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell: my Blessing season this in thee

   Laer. Most humbly doe I take my leaue, my Lord

   Polon. The time inuites you, goe, your seruants tend

   Laer. Farewell Ophelia, and remember well
What I haue said to you

   Ophe. Tis in my memory lockt,
And you your selfe shall keepe the key of it

   Laer. Farewell.

Exit Laer.

  Polon. What ist Ophelia he hath said to you?
  Ophe. So please you, somthing touching the L[ord]. Hamlet

   Polon. Marry, well bethought:
Tis told me he hath very oft of late
Giuen priuate time to you; and you your selfe
Haue of your audience beene most free and bounteous.
If it be so, as so tis put on me;
And that in way of caution: I must tell you,
You doe not vnderstand your selfe so cleerely,
As it behoues my Daughter, and your Honour.
What is betweene you, giue me vp the truth?
  Ophe. He hath my Lord of late, made many tenders
Of his affection to me

   Polon. Affection, puh. You speake like a greene Girle,
Vnsifted in such perillous Circumstance.
Doe you beleeue his tenders, as you call them?
  Ophe. I do not know, my Lord, what I should thinke

   Polon. Marry Ile teach you; thinke your selfe a Baby,
That you haue tane his tenders for true pay,
Which are not starling. Tender your selfe more dearly;
Or not to crack the winde of the poore Phrase,
Roaming it thus, you'l tender me a foole

   Ophe. My Lord, he hath importun'd me with loue,
In honourable fashion

   Polon. I, fashion you may call it, go too, go too

   Ophe. And hath giuen countenance to his speech,
My Lord, with all the vowes of Heauen

   Polon. I, Springes to catch Woodcocks. I doe know
When the Bloud burnes, how Prodigall the Soule
Giues the tongue vowes: these blazes, Daughter,
Giuing more light then heate; extinct in both,
Euen in their promise, as it is a making;
You must not take for fire. For this time Daughter,
Be somewhat scanter of your Maiden presence;
Set your entreatments at a higher rate,
Then a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
Beleeue so much in him, that he is young,
And with a larger tether may he walke,
Then may be giuen you. In few, Ophelia,
Doe not beleeue his vowes; for they are Broakers,
Not of the eye, which their Inuestments show:
But meere implorators of vnholy Sutes,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,
The better to beguile. This is for all:
I would not, in plaine tearmes, from this time forth,
Haue you so slander any moment leisure,
As to giue words or talke with the Lord Hamlet:
Looke too't, I charge you; come your wayes

   Ophe. I shall obey my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus.

  Ham. The Ayre bites shrewdly: is it very cold?
  Hor. It is a nipping and an eager ayre

   Ham. What hower now?
  Hor. I thinke it lacks of twelue

   Mar. No, it is strooke

   Hor. Indeed I heard it not: then it drawes neere the season,
Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walke.
What does this meane my Lord?
  Ham. The King doth wake to night, and takes his rouse,
Keepes wassels and the swaggering vpspring reeles,
And as he dreines his draughts of Renish downe,
The kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his Pledge

   Horat. Is it a custome?
  Ham. I marry ist;
And to my mind, though I am natiue heere,
And to the manner borne: It is a Custome
More honour'd in the breach, then the obseruance.
Enter Ghost.

  Hor. Looke my Lord, it comes

   Ham. Angels and Ministers of Grace defend vs:
Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd,
Bring with thee ayres from Heauen, or blasts from Hell,
Be thy euents wicked or charitable,
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape
That I will speake to thee. Ile call thee Hamlet,
King, Father, Royall Dane: Oh, oh, answer me,
Let me not burst in Ignorance; but tell
Why thy Canoniz'd bones Hearsed in death,
Haue burst their cerments, why the Sepulcher
Wherein we saw thee quietly enurn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and Marble iawes,
To cast thee vp againe? What may this meane?
That thou dead Coarse againe in compleat steele,
Reuisits thus the glimpses of the Moone,
Making Night hidious? And we fooles of Nature,
So horridly to shake our disposition,
With thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Soules,
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we doe?

Ghost beckens Hamlet.

  Hor. It beckons you to goe away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire
To you alone

   Mar. Looke with what courteous action
It wafts you to a more remoued ground:
But doe not goe with it

   Hor. No, by no meanes

   Ham. It will not speake: then will I follow it

   Hor. Doe not my Lord

   Ham. Why, what should be the feare?
I doe not set my life at a pins fee;
And for my Soule, what can it doe to that?
Being a thing immortall as it selfe:
It waues me forth againe; Ile follow it

   Hor. What if it tempt you toward the Floud my Lord?
Or to the dreadfull Sonnet of the Cliffe,
That beetles o're his base into the Sea,
And there assumes some other horrible forme,
Which might depriue your Soueraignty of Reason,
And draw you into madnesse thinke of it?
  Ham. It wafts me still: goe on, Ile follow thee

   Mar. You shall not goe my Lord

   Ham. Hold off your hand

   Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not goe

   Ham. My fate cries out,
And makes each petty Artire in this body,
As hardy as the Nemian Lions nerue:
Still am I cal'd? Vnhand me Gentlemen:
By Heau'n, Ile make a Ghost of him that lets me:
I say away, goe on, Ile follow thee.

Exeunt. Ghost & Hamlet.

  Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination

   Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him

   Hor. Haue after, to what issue will this come?
  Mar. Something is rotten in the State of Denmarke

   Hor. Heauen will direct it

   Mar. Nay, let's follow him.

Exeunt.

Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

  Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; Ile go no further

   Gho. Marke me

   Ham. I will

   Gho. My hower is almost come,
When I to sulphurous and tormenting Flames
Must render vp my selfe

   Ham. Alas poore Ghost

   Gho. Pitty me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall vnfold

   Ham. Speake, I am bound to heare

   Gho. So art thou to reuenge, when thou shalt heare

   Ham. What?
  Gho. I am thy Fathers Spirit,
Doom'd for a certaine terme to walke the night;
And for the day confin'd to fast in Fiers,
Till the foule crimes done in my dayes of Nature
Are burnt and purg'd away? But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my Prison-House;
I could a Tale vnfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow vp thy soule, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like Starres, start from their Spheres,
Thy knotty and combined lockes to part,
And each particular haire to stand an end,
Like Quilles vpon the fretfull Porpentine:
But this eternall blason must not be
To eares of flesh and bloud; list Hamlet, oh list,
If thou didst euer thy deare Father loue

   Ham. Oh Heauen!
  Gho. Reuenge his foule and most vnnaturall Murther

   Ham. Murther?
  Ghost. Murther most foule, as in the best it is;
But this most foule, strange, and vnnaturall

   Ham. Hast, hast me to know it,
That with wings as swift
As meditation, or the thoughts of Loue,
May sweepe to my Reuenge

   Ghost. I finde thee apt,
And duller should'st thou be then the fat weede
That rots it selfe in ease, on Lethe Wharfe,
Would'st thou not stirre in this. Now Hamlet heare:
It's giuen out, that sleeping in mine Orchard,
A Serpent stung me: so the whole eare of Denmarke,
Is by a forged processe of my death
Rankly abus'd: But know thou Noble youth,
The Serpent that did sting thy Fathers life,
Now weares his Crowne

   Ham. O my Propheticke soule: mine Vncle?
  Ghost. I that incestuous, that adulterate Beast
With witchcraft of his wits, hath Traitorous guifts.
Oh wicked Wit, and Gifts, that haue the power
So to seduce? Won to this shamefull Lust
The will of my most seeming vertuous Queene:
Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there,
From me, whose loue was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand, euen with the Vow
I made to her in Marriage; and to decline
Vpon a wretch, whose Naturall gifts were poore
To those of mine. But Vertue, as it neuer wil be moued,
Though Lewdnesse court it in a shape of Heauen:
So Lust, though to a radiant Angell link'd,
Will sate it selfe in a Celestiall bed, & prey on Garbage.
But soft, me thinkes I sent the Mornings Ayre;
Briefe let me be: Sleeping within mine Orchard,
My custome alwayes in the afternoone;
Vpon my secure hower thy Vncle stole
With iuyce of cursed Hebenon in a Violl,
And in the Porches of mine eares did poure
The leaperous Distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with bloud of Man,
That swift as Quick-siluer, it courses through
The naturall Gates and Allies of the body;
And with a sodaine vigour it doth posset
And curd, like Aygre droppings into Milke,
The thin and wholsome blood: so did it mine;
And a most instant Tetter bak'd about,
Most Lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,
All my smooth Body.
Thus was I, sleeping, by a Brothers hand,
Of Life, of Crowne, and Queene at once dispatcht;
Cut off euen in the Blossomes of my Sinne,
Vnhouzzled, disappointed, vnnaneld,
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head;
Oh horrible Oh horrible, most horrible:
If thou hast nature in thee beare it not;
Let not the Royall Bed of Denmarke be
A Couch for Luxury and damned Incest.
But howsoeuer thou pursuest this Act,
Taint not thy mind; nor let thy Soule contriue
Against thy Mother ought; leaue her to heauen,
And to those Thornes that in her bosome lodge,
To pricke and sting her. Fare thee well at once;
The Glow-worme showes the Matine to be neere,
And gins to pale his vneffectuall Fire:
Adue, adue, Hamlet: remember me.
Enter.

  Ham. Oh all you host of Heauen! Oh Earth; what els?
And shall I couple Hell? Oh fie: hold my heart;
And you my sinnewes, grow not instant Old;
But beare me stiffely vp: Remember thee?
I, thou poore Ghost, while memory holds a seate
In this distracted Globe: Remember thee?
Yea, from the Table of my Memory,
Ile wipe away all triuiall fond Records,
All sawes of Bookes, all formes, all presures past,
That youth and obseruation coppied there;
And thy Commandment all alone shall liue
Within the Booke and Volume of my Braine,
Vnmixt with baser matter; yes yes, by Heauen:
Oh most pernicious woman!
Oh Villaine, Villaine, smiling damned Villaine!
My Tables, my Tables; meet it is I set it downe,
That one may smile, and smile and be a Villaine;
At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmarke;
So Vnckle there you are: now to my word;
It is; Adue, Adue, Remember me: I haue sworn't

   Hor. & Mar. within. My Lord, my Lord.
Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

  Mar. Lord Hamlet

   Hor. Heauen secure him

   Mar. So be it

   Hor. Illo, ho, ho, my Lord

   Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come bird, come

   Mar. How ist my Noble Lord?
  Hor. What newes, my Lord?
  Ham. Oh wonderfull!
  Hor. Good my Lord tell it

   Ham. No you'l reueale it

   Hor. Not I, my Lord, by Heauen

   Mar. Nor I, my Lord

   Ham. How say you then, would heart of man once think it?
But you'l be secret?
  Both. I, by Heau'n, my Lord

   Ham. There's nere a villaine dwelling in all Denmarke
But hee's an arrant knaue

   Hor. There needs no Ghost my Lord, come from the
Graue, to tell vs this

   Ham. Why right, you are i'th' right;
And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part:
You, as your busines and desires shall point you:
For euery man ha's businesse and desire,
Such as it is: and for mine owne poore part,
Looke you, Ile goe pray

   Hor. These are but wild and hurling words, my Lord

   Ham. I'm sorry they offend you heartily:
Yes faith, heartily

   Hor. There's no offence my Lord

   Ham. Yes, by Saint Patricke, but there is my Lord,
And much offence too, touching this Vision heere:
It is an honest Ghost, that let me tell you:
For your desire to know what is betweene vs,
O'remaster't as you may. And now good friends,
As you are Friends, Schollers and Soldiers,
Giue me one poore request

   Hor. What is't my Lord? we will

   Ham. Neuer make known what you haue seen to night

   Both. My Lord, we will not

   Ham. Nay, but swear't

   Hor. Infaith my Lord, not I

   Mar. Nor I my Lord: in faith

   Ham. Vpon my sword

   Marcell. We haue sworne my Lord already

   Ham. Indeed, vpon my sword, Indeed

   Gho. Sweare.

Ghost cries vnder the Stage.

  Ham. Ah ha boy, sayest thou so. Art thou there truepenny?
Come one you here this fellow in the selleredge
Consent to sweare

   Hor. Propose the Oath my Lord

   Ham. Neuer to speake of this that you haue seene.
Sweare by my sword

   Gho. Sweare

   Ham. Hic & vbique? Then wee'l shift for grownd,
Come hither Gentlemen,
And lay your hands againe vpon my sword,
Neuer to speake of this that you haue heard:
Sweare by my Sword

   Gho. Sweare

   Ham. Well said old Mole, can'st worke i'th' ground so fast?
A worthy Pioner, once more remoue good friends

   Hor. Oh day and night: but this is wondrous strange

   Ham. And therefore as a stranger giue it welcome.
There are more things in Heauen and Earth, Horatio,
Then are dream't of in our Philosophy. But come,
Here as before, neuer so helpe you mercy,
How strange or odde so ere I beare my selfe;
(As I perchance heereafter shall thinke meet
To put an Anticke disposition on:)
That you at such time seeing me, neuer shall
With Armes encombred thus, or thus, head shake;
Or by pronouncing of some doubtfull Phrase;
As well, we know, or we could and if we would,
Or if we list to speake; or there be and if there might,
Or such ambiguous giuing out to note,
That you know ought of me; this not to doe:
So grace and mercy at your most neede helpe you:
Sweare

   Ghost. Sweare

   Ham. Rest, rest perturbed Spirit: so Gentlemen,
With all my loue I doe commend me to you;
And what so poore a man as Hamlet is,
May doe t' expresse his loue and friending to you,
God willing shall not lacke: let vs goe in together,
And still your fingers on your lippes I pray,
The time is out of ioynt: Oh cursed spight,
That euer I was borne to set it right.
Nay, come let's goe together.

Exeunt.


Actus Secundus.

Enter Polonius, and Reynoldo.

  Polon. Giue him his money, and these notes Reynoldo

   Reynol. I will my Lord

   Polon. You shall doe maruels wisely: good Reynoldo,
Before you visite him you make inquiry
Of his behauiour

   Reynol. My Lord, I did intend it

   Polon. Marry, well said;
Very well said. Looke you Sir,
Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;
And how, and who; what meanes; and where they keepe:
What company, at what expence: and finding
By this encompassement and drift of question,
That they doe know my sonne: Come you more neerer
Then your particular demands will touch it,
Take you as 'twere some distant knowledge of him,
And thus I know his father and his friends,
And in part him. Doe you marke this Reynoldo?
  Reynol. I, very well my Lord

   Polon. And in part him, but you may say not well;
But if't be hee I meane, hees very wilde;
Addicted so and so; and there put on him
What forgeries you please; marry, none so ranke,
As may dishonour him; take heed of that:
But Sir, such wanton, wild, and vsuall slips,
As are Companions noted and most knowne
To youth and liberty

   Reynol. As gaming my Lord

   Polon. I, or drinking, fencing, swearing,
Quarelling, drabbing. You may goe so farre

   Reynol. My Lord that would dishonour him

   Polon. Faith no, as you may season it in the charge;
You must not put another scandall on him,
That hee is open to Incontinencie;
That's not my meaning: but breath his faults so quaintly,
That they may seeme the taints of liberty;
The flash and out-breake of a fiery minde,
A sauagenes in vnreclaim'd bloud of generall assault

   Reynol. But my good Lord

   Polon. Wherefore should you doe this?
  Reynol. I my Lord, I would know that

   Polon. Marry Sir, heere's my drift,
And I belieue it is a fetch of warrant:
You laying these slight sulleyes on my Sonne,
As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i'th' working:
Marke you your party in conuerse; him you would sound,
Hauing euer seene. In the prenominate crimes,
The youth you breath of guilty, be assur'd
He closes with you in this consequence:
Good sir, or so, or friend, or Gentleman.
According to the Phrase and the Addition,
Of man and Country

   Reynol. Very good my Lord

   Polon. And then Sir does he this?
He does: what was I about to say?
I was about say somthing: where did I leaue?
  Reynol. At closes in the consequence:
At friend, or so, and Gentleman

   Polon. At closes in the consequence, I marry,
He closes with you thus. I know the Gentleman,
I saw him yesterday, or tother day;
Or then or then, with such and such; and as you say,
There was he gaming, there o'retooke in's Rouse,
There falling out at Tennis; or perchance,
I saw him enter such a house of saile;
Videlicet, a Brothell, or so forth. See you now;
Your bait of falshood, takes this Cape of truth;
And thus doe we of wisedome and of reach
With windlesses, and with assaies of Bias,
By indirections finde directions out:
So by my former Lecture and aduice
Shall you my Sonne; you haue me, haue you not?
  Reynol. My Lord I haue

   Polon. God buy you; fare you well

   Reynol. Good my Lord

   Polon. Obserue his inclination in your selfe

   Reynol. I shall my Lord

   Polon. And let him plye his Musicke

   Reynol. Well, my Lord.
Enter.

Enter Ophelia.

  Polon. Farewell:
How now Ophelia, what's the matter?
  Ophe. Alas my Lord, I haue beene so affrighted

   Polon. With what, in the name of Heauen?
  Ophe. My Lord, as I was sowing in my Chamber,
Lord Hamlet with his doublet all vnbrac'd,
No hat vpon his head, his stockings foul'd,
Vngartred, and downe giued to his Anckle,
Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other,
And with a looke so pitious in purport,
As if he had been loosed out of hell,
To speake of horrors: he comes before me

   Polon. Mad for thy Loue?
  Ophe. My Lord, I doe not know: but truly I do feare it

   Polon. What said he?
  Ophe. He tooke me by the wrist, and held me hard;
Then goes he to the length of all his arme;
And with his other hand thus o're his brow,
He fals to such perusall of my face,
As he would draw it. Long staid he so,
At last, a little shaking of mine Arme:
And thrice his head thus wauing vp and downe;
He rais'd a sigh, so pittious and profound,
That it did seeme to shatter all his bulke,
And end his being. That done, he lets me goe,
And with his head ouer his shoulders turn'd,
He seem'd to finde his way without his eyes,
For out adores he went without their helpe;
And to the last, bended their light on me

   Polon. Goe with me, I will goe seeke the King,
This is the very extasie of Loue,
Whose violent property foredoes it selfe,
And leads the will to desperate Vndertakings,
As oft as any passion vnder Heauen,
That does afflict our Natures. I am sorrie,
What haue you giuen him any hard words of late?
  Ophe. No my good Lord: but as you did command,
I did repell his Letters, and deny'de
His accesse to me

   Pol. That hath made him mad.
I am sorrie that with better speed and iudgement
I had not quoted him. I feare he did but trifle,
And meant to wracke thee: but beshrew my iealousie:
It seemes it is as proper to our Age,
To cast beyond our selues in our Opinions,
As it is common for the yonger sort
To lacke discretion. Come, go we to the King,
This must be knowne, being kept close might moue
More greefe to hide, then hate to vtter loue.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter King, Queene, Rosincrane, and Guildensterne Cum alijs.

  King. Welcome deere Rosincrance and Guildensterne.
Moreouer, that we much did long to see you,
The neede we haue to vse you, did prouoke
Our hastie sending. Something haue you heard
Of Hamlets transformation: so I call it,
Since not th' exterior, nor the inward man
Resembles that it was. What it should bee
More then his Fathers death, that thus hath put him
So much from th' vnderstanding of himselfe,
I cannot deeme of. I intreat you both,
That being of so young dayes brought vp with him:
And since so Neighbour'd to his youth, and humour,
That you vouchsafe your rest heere in our Court
Some little time: so by your Companies
To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather
So much as from Occasions you may gleane,
That open'd lies within our remedie

   Qu. Good Gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you,
And sure I am, two men there are not liuing,
To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
To shew vs so much Gentrie, and good will,
As to expend your time with vs a-while,
For the supply and profit of our Hope,
Your Visitation shall receiue such thankes
As fits a Kings remembrance

   Rosin. Both your Maiesties
Might by the Soueraigne power you haue of vs,
Put your dread pleasures, more into Command
Then to Entreatie

   Guil. We both obey,
And here giue vp our selues, in the full bent,
To lay our Seruices freely at your feete,
To be commanded

   King. Thankes Rosincrance, and gentle Guildensterne

   Qu. Thankes Guildensterne and gentle Rosincrance.
And I beseech you instantly to visit
My too much changed Sonne.
Go some of ye,
And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is

   Guil. Heauens make our presence and our practises
Pleasant and helpfull to him.
Enter.

  Queene. Amen.
Enter Polonius.

  Pol. Th' Ambassadors from Norwey, my good Lord,
Are ioyfully return'd

   King. Thou still hast bin the father of good Newes

   Pol. Haue I, my Lord? Assure you, my good Liege,
I hold my dutie, as I hold my Soule,
Both to my God, one to my gracious King:
And I do thinke, or else this braine of mine
Hunts not the traile of Policie, so sure
As I haue vs'd to do: that I haue found
The very cause of Hamlets Lunacie

   King. Oh speake of that, that I do long to heare

   Pol. Giue first admittance to th' Ambassadors,
My Newes shall be the Newes to that great Feast

   King. Thy selfe do grace to them, and bring them in.
He tels me my sweet Queene, that he hath found
The head and sourse of all your Sonnes distemper

   Qu. I doubt it is no other, but the maine,
His Fathers death, and our o're-hasty Marriage.
Enter Polonius, Voltumand, and Cornelius.

  King. Well, we shall sift him. Welcome good Frends:
Say Voltumand, what from our Brother Norwey?
  Volt. Most faire returne of Greetings, and Desires.
Vpon our first, he sent out to suppresse
His Nephewes Leuies, which to him appear'd
To be a preparation 'gainst the Poleak:
But better look'd into, he truly found
It was against your Highnesse, whereat greeued,
That so his Sicknesse, Age, and Impotence
Was falsely borne in hand, sends out Arrests
On Fortinbras, which he (in breefe) obeyes,
Receiues rebuke from Norwey: and in fine,
Makes Vow before his Vnkle, neuer more
To giue th' assay of Armes against your Maiestie.
Whereon old Norwey, ouercome with ioy,
Giues him three thousand Crownes in Annuall Fee,
And his Commission to imploy those Soldiers
So leuied as before, against the Poleak:
With an intreaty heerein further shewne,
That it might please you to giue quiet passe
Through your Dominions, for his Enterprize,
On such regards of safety and allowance,
As therein are set downe

   King. It likes vs well:
And at our more consider'd time wee'l read,
Answer, and thinke vpon this Businesse.
Meane time we thanke you, for your well-tooke Labour.
Go to your rest, at night wee'l Feast together.
Most welcome home.

Exit Ambass.

  Pol. This businesse is very well ended.
My Liege, and Madam, to expostulate
What Maiestie should be, what Dutie is,
Why day is day; night, night; and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste Night, Day, and Time.
Therefore, since Breuitie is the Soule of Wit,
And tediousnesse, the limbes and outward flourishes,
I will be breefe. Your Noble Sonne is mad:
Mad call I it; for to define true Madnesse,
What is't, but to be nothing else but mad.
But let that go

   Qu. More matter, with lesse Art

   Pol. Madam, I sweare I vse no Art at all:
That he is mad, 'tis true: 'Tis true 'tis pittie,
And pittie it is true: A foolish figure,
But farewell it: for I will vse no Art.
Mad let vs grant him then: and now remaines
That we finde out the cause of this effect,
Or rather say, the cause of this defect;
For this effect defectiue, comes by cause,
Thus it remaines, and the remainder thus. Perpend,
I haue a daughter: haue, whil'st she is mine,
Who in her Dutie and Obedience, marke,
Hath giuen me this: now gather, and surmise.

The Letter.

To the Celestiall, and my Soules Idoll, the most beautifed Ophelia.
That's an ill Phrase, a vilde Phrase, beautified is a vilde
Phrase: but you shall heare these in her excellent white
bosome, these

   Qu. Came this from Hamlet to her

   Pol. Good Madam stay awhile, I will be faithfull.
Doubt thou, the Starres are fire,
Doubt, that the Sunne doth moue:
Doubt Truth to be a Lier,
But neuer Doubt, I loue.
O deere Ophelia, I am ill at these Numbers: I haue not Art to
reckon my grones; but that I loue thee best, oh most Best beleeue
it. Adieu.
Thine euermore most deere Lady, whilst this
Machine is to him, Hamlet.
This in Obedience hath my daughter shew'd me:
And more aboue hath his soliciting,
As they fell out by Time, by Meanes, and Place,
All giuen to mine eare

   King. But how hath she receiu'd his Loue?
  Pol. What do you thinke of me?
  King. As of a man, faithfull and Honourable

   Pol. I wold faine proue so. But what might you think?
When I had seene this hot loue on the wing,
As I perceiued it, I must tell you that
Before my Daughter told me what might you
Or my deere Maiestie your Queene heere, think,
If I had playd the Deske or Table-booke,
Or giuen my heart a winking, mute and dumbe,
Or look'd vpon this Loue, with idle sight,
What might you thinke? No, I went round to worke,
And (my yong Mistris) thus I did bespeake
Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy Starre,
This must not be: and then, I Precepts gaue her,
That she should locke her selfe from his Resort,
Admit no Messengers, receiue no Tokens:
Which done, she tooke the Fruites of my Aduice,
And he repulsed. A short Tale to make,
Fell into a Sadnesse, then into a Fast,
Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weaknesse,
Thence to a Lightnesse, and by this declension
Into the Madnesse whereon now he raues,
And all we waile for

   King. Do you thinke 'tis this?
  Qu. It may be very likely

   Pol. Hath there bene such a time, I'de fain know that,
That I haue possitiuely said, 'tis so,
When it prou'd otherwise?
  King. Not that I know

   Pol. Take this from this; if this be otherwise,
If Circumstances leade me, I will finde
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeede
Within the Center

   King. How may we try it further?
  Pol. You know sometimes
He walkes foure houres together, heere
In the Lobby

   Qu. So he ha's indeed

   Pol. At such a time Ile loose my Daughter to him,
Be you and I behinde an Arras then,
Marke the encounter: If he loue her not,
And be not from his reason falne thereon;
Let me be no Assistant for a State,
And keepe a Farme and Carters

   King. We will try it.
Enter Hamlet reading on a Booke.

  Qu. But looke where sadly the poore wretch
Comes reading

   Pol. Away I do beseech you, both away,
Ile boord him presently.

Exit King & Queen.

Oh giue me leaue. How does my good Lord Hamlet?
  Ham. Well, God-a-mercy

   Pol. Do you know me, my Lord?
  Ham. Excellent, excellent well: y'are a Fishmonger

   Pol. Not I my Lord

   Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man

   Pol. Honest, my Lord?
  Ham. I sir, to be honest as this world goes, is to bee
one man pick'd out of two thousand

   Pol. That's very true, my Lord

   Ham. For if the Sun breed Magots in a dead dogge,
being a good kissing Carrion-
Haue you a daughter?
  Pol. I haue my Lord

   Ham. Let her not walke i'thSunne: Conception is a
blessing, but not as your daughter may conceiue. Friend
looke too't

   Pol. How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter:
yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a Fishmonger:
he is farre gone, farre gone: and truly in my youth,
I suffred much extreamity for loue: very neere this. Ile
speake to him againe. What do you read my Lord?
  Ham. Words, words, words

   Pol. What is the matter, my Lord?
  Ham. Betweene who?
  Pol. I meane the matter you meane, my Lord

   Ham. Slanders Sir: for the Satyricall slaue saies here,
that old men haue gray Beards; that their faces are wrinkled;
their eyes purging thicke Amber, or Plum-Tree
Gumme: and that they haue a plentifull locke of Wit,
together with weake Hammes. All which Sir, though I
most powerfully, and potently beleeue; yet I holde it
not Honestie to haue it thus set downe: For you your
selfe Sir, should be old as I am, if like a Crab you could
go backward

   Pol. Though this be madnesse,
Yet there is Method in't: will you walke
Out of the ayre my Lord?
  Ham. Into my Graue?
  Pol. Indeed that is out o'th' Ayre:
How pregnant (sometimes) his Replies are?
A happinesse,
That often Madnesse hits on,
Which Reason and Sanitie could not
So prosperously be deliuer'd of.
I will leaue him,
And sodainely contriue the meanes of meeting
Betweene him, and my daughter.
My Honourable Lord, I will most humbly
Take my leaue of you

   Ham. You cannot Sir take from me any thing, that I
will more willingly part withall, except my life, my
life

   Polon. Fare you well my Lord

   Ham. These tedious old fooles

   Polon. You goe to seeke my Lord Hamlet; there
hee is.
Enter Rosincran and Guildensterne.

  Rosin. God saue you Sir

   Guild. Mine honour'd Lord?
  Rosin. My most deare Lord?
  Ham. My excellent good friends? How do'st thou
Guildensterne? Oh, Rosincrane; good Lads: How doe ye
both?
  Rosin. As the indifferent Children of the earth

   Guild. Happy, in that we are not ouer-happy: on Fortunes
Cap, we are not the very Button

   Ham. Nor the Soales of her Shoo?
  Rosin. Neither my Lord

   Ham. Then you liue about her waste, or in the middle
of her fauour?
  Guil. Faith, her priuates, we

   Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? Oh, most true:
she is a Strumpet. What's the newes?
  Rosin. None my Lord; but that the World's growne
honest

   Ham. Then is Doomesday neere: But your newes is
not true. Let me question more in particular: what haue
you my good friends, deserued at the hands of Fortune,
that she sends you to Prison hither?
  Guil. Prison, my Lord?
  Ham. Denmark's a Prison

   Rosin. Then is the World one

   Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Confines,
Wards, and Dungeons; Denmarke being one o'th'
worst

   Rosin. We thinke not so my Lord

   Ham. Why then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing
either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is
a prison

   Rosin. Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'tis
too narrow for your minde

   Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and
count my selfe a King of infinite space; were it not that
I haue bad dreames

   Guil. Which dreames indeed are Ambition: for the
very substance of the Ambitious, is meerely the shadow
of a Dreame

   Ham. A dreame it selfe is but a shadow

   Rosin. Truely, and I hold Ambition of so ayry and
light a quality, that it is but a shadowes shadow

   Ham. Then are our Beggers bodies; and our Monarchs
and out-stretcht Heroes the Beggers Shadowes:
shall wee to th' Court: for, by my fey I cannot reason?
  Both. Wee'l wait vpon you

   Ham. No such matter. I will not sort you with the
rest of my seruants: for to speake to you like an honest
man: I am most dreadfully attended; but in the beaten
way of friendship, What make you at Elsonower?
  Rosin. To visit you my Lord, no other occasion

   Ham. Begger that I am, I am euen poore in thankes;
but I thanke you: and sure deare friends my thanks
are too deare a halfepeny; were you not sent for? Is it
your owne inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,
deale iustly with me: come, come; nay speake

   Guil. What should we say my Lord?
  Ham. Why any thing. But to the purpose; you were
sent for; and there is a kinde confession in your lookes;
which your modesties haue not craft enough to color,
I know the good King & Queene haue sent for you

   Rosin. To what end my Lord?
  Ham. That you must teach me: but let mee coniure
you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of
our youth, by the Obligation of our euer-preserued loue,
and by what more deare, a better proposer could charge
you withall; be euen and direct with me, whether you
were sent for or no

   Rosin. What say you?
  Ham. Nay then I haue an eye of you: if you loue me
hold not off

   Guil. My Lord, we were sent for

   Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
preuent your discouery of your secricie to the King and
Queene: moult no feather, I haue of late, but wherefore
I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custome of exercise;
and indeed, it goes so heauenly with my disposition;
that this goodly frame the Earth, seemes to me a sterrill
Promontory; this most excellent Canopy the Ayre,
look you, this braue ore-hanging, this Maiesticall Roofe,
fretted with golden fire: why, it appeares no other thing
to mee, then a foule and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of worke is a man! how Noble in
Reason? how infinite in faculty? in forme and mouing
how expresse and admirable? in Action, how like an Angel?
in apprehension, how like a God? the beauty of the
world, the Parragon of Animals; and yet to me, what is
this Quintessence of Dust? Man delights not me; no,
nor Woman neither; though by your smiling you seeme
to say so

   Rosin. My Lord, there was no such stuffe in my
thoughts

   Ham. Why did you laugh, when I said, Man delights
not me?
  Rosin. To thinke, my Lord, if you delight not in Man,
what Lenton entertainment the Players shall receiue
from you: wee coated them on the way, and hither are
they comming to offer you Seruice

   Ham. He that playes the King shall be welcome; his
Maiesty shall haue Tribute of mee: the aduenturous
Knight shal vse his Foyle and Target: the Louer shall
not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his part in
peace: the Clowne shall make those laugh whose lungs
are tickled a'th' sere: and the Lady shall say her minde
freely; or the blanke Verse shall halt for't: what Players
are they?
  Rosin. Euen those you were wont to take delight in
the Tragedians of the City

   Ham. How chances it they trauaile? their residence
both in reputation and profit was better both
wayes

   Rosin. I thinke their Inhibition comes by the meanes
of the late Innouation?
  Ham. Doe they hold the same estimation they did
when I was in the City? Are they so follow'd?
  Rosin. No indeed, they are not

   Ham. How comes it? doe they grow rusty?
  Rosin. Nay, their indeauour keepes in the wonted
pace; But there is Sir an ayrie of Children, little
Yases, that crye out on the top of question; and
are most tyrannically clap't for't: these are now the
fashion, and so be-ratled the common Stages (so they
call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are affraide of
Goose-quils, and dare scarse come thither

   Ham. What are they Children? Who maintains 'em?
How are they escorted? Will they pursue the Quality no
longer then they can sing? Will they not say afterwards
if they should grow themselues to common Players (as
it is most like if their meanes are not better) their Writers
do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their
owne Succession

   Rosin. Faith there ha's bene much to do on both sides:
and the Nation holds it no sinne, to tarre them to Controuersie.
There was for a while, no mony bid for argument,
vnlesse the Poet and the Player went to Cuffes in
the Question

   Ham. Is't possible?
  Guild. Oh there ha's beene much throwing about of
Braines

   Ham. Do the Boyes carry it away?
  Rosin. I that they do my Lord. Hercules & his load too

   Ham. It is not strange: for mine Vnckle is King of
Denmarke, and those that would make mowes at him
while my Father liued; giue twenty, forty, an hundred
Ducates a peece, for his picture in Little. There is something
in this more then Naturall, if Philosophie could
finde it out.

Flourish for the Players.

  Guil. There are the Players

   Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcom to Elsonower: your
hands, come: The appurtenance of Welcome, is Fashion
and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garbe,
lest my extent to the Players (which I tell you must shew
fairely outward) should more appeare like entertainment
then yours. You are welcome: but my Vnckle Father,
and Aunt Mother are deceiu'd

   Guil. In what my deere Lord?
  Ham. I am but mad North, North-West: when the
Winde is Southerly, I know a Hawke from a Handsaw.
Enter Polonius.

  Pol. Well be with you Gentlemen

   Ham. Hearke you Guildensterne, and you too: at each
eare a hearer: that great Baby you see there, is not yet
out of his swathing clouts

   Rosin. Happily he's the second time come to them: for
they say, an old man is twice a childe

   Ham. I will Prophesie. Hee comes to tell me of the
Players. Mark it, you say right Sir: for a Monday morning
'twas so indeed

   Pol. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you

   Ham. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you.
When Rossius an Actor in Rome-
  Pol. The Actors are come hither my Lord

   Ham. Buzze, buzze

   Pol. Vpon mine Honor

   Ham. Then can each Actor on his Asse-
  Polon. The best Actors in the world, either for Tragedie,
Comedie, Historie, Pastorall:
Pastoricall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall:
Tragicall-Historicall: Tragicall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall:
Scene indiuidible: or Poem
vnlimited. Seneca cannot be too heauy, nor Plautus
too light, for the law of Writ, and the Liberty. These are
the onely men

   Ham. O Iephta Iudge of Israel, what a Treasure had'st
thou?
  Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord?
  Ham. Why one faire Daughter, and no more,
The which he loued passing well

   Pol. Still on my Daughter

   Ham. Am I not i'th' right old Iephta?
  Polon. If you call me Iephta my Lord, I haue a daughter
that I loue passing well

   Ham. Nay that followes not

   Polon. What followes then, my Lord?
  Ha. Why, As by lot, God wot: and then you know, It
came to passe, as most like it was: The first rowe of the
Pons Chanson will shew you more. For looke where my
Abridgements come.
Enter foure or fiue Players.

Y'are welcome Masters, welcome all. I am glad to see
thee well: Welcome good Friends. Oh my olde Friend?
Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last: Com'st thou to
beard me in Denmarke? What, my yong Lady and Mistris?
Byrlady your Ladiship is neerer Heauen then when
I saw you last, by the altitude of a Choppine. Pray God
your voice like a peece of vncurrant Gold be not crack'd
within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome: wee'l e'ne
to't like French Faulconers, flie at any thing we see: wee'l
haue a Speech straight. Come giue vs a tast of your quality:
come, a passionate speech

   1.Play. What speech, my Lord?
  Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was
neuer Acted: or if it was, not aboue once, for the Play I
remember pleas'd not the Million, 'twas Cauiarie to the
Generall: but it was (as I receiu'd it, and others, whose
iudgement in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an
excellent Play; well digested in the Scoenes, set downe
with as much modestie, as cunning. I remember one said,
there was no Sallets in the lines, to make the matter sauory;
nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the
Author of affectation, but cal'd it an honest method. One
cheefe Speech in it, I cheefely lou'd, 'twas Aeneas Tale
to Dido, and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks
of Priams slaughter. If it liue in your memory, begin at
this Line, let me see, let me see: The rugged Pyrrhus like
th'Hyrcanian Beast. It is not so: it begins with Pyrrhus
The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose Sable Armes
Blacke as his purpose, did the night resemble
When he lay couched in the Ominous Horse,
Hath now this dread and blacke Complexion smear'd
With Heraldry more dismall: Head to foote
Now is he to take Geulles, horridly Trick'd
With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sonnes,
Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous, and damned light
To their vilde Murthers, roasted in wrath and fire,
And thus o're-sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like Carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Olde Grandsire Priam seekes

   Pol. Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent,
and good discretion

   1.Player. Anon he findes him,
Striking too short at Greekes. His anticke Sword,
Rebellious to his Arme, lyes where it falles
Repugnant to command: vnequall match,
Pyrrhus at Priam driues, in Rage strikes wide:
But with the whiffe and winde of his fell Sword,
Th' vnnerued Father fals. Then senselesse Illium,
Seeming to feele his blow, with flaming top
Stoopes to his Bace, and with a hideous crash
Takes Prisoner Pyrrhus eare. For loe, his Sword
Which was declining on the Milkie head
Of Reuerend Priam, seem'd i'th' Ayre to sticke:
So as a painted Tyrant Pyrrhus stood,
And like a Newtrall to his will and matter, did nothing.
But as we often see against some storme,
A silence in the Heauens, the Racke stand still,
The bold windes speechlesse, and the Orbe below
As hush as death: Anon the dreadfull Thunder
Doth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pause,
A rowsed Vengeance sets him new a-worke,
And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall
On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proofe Eterne,
With lesse remorse then Pyrrhus bleeding sword
Now falles on Priam.
Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune, all you Gods,
In generall Synod take away her power:
Breake all the Spokes and Fallies from her wheele,
And boule the round Naue downe the hill of Heauen,
As low as to the Fiends

   Pol. This is too long

   Ham. It shall to'th Barbars, with your beard. Prythee
say on: He's for a Iigge, or a tale of Baudry, or hee
sleepes. Say on; come to Hecuba

   1.Play. But who, O who, had seen the inobled Queen

   Ham. The inobled Queene?
  Pol. That's good: Inobled Queene is good

   1.Play. Run bare-foot vp and downe,
Threatning the flame
With Bisson Rheume: A clout about that head,
Where late the Diadem stood, and for a Robe
About her lanke and all ore-teamed Loines,
A blanket in th' Alarum of feare caught vp.
Who this had seene, with tongue in Venome steep'd,
'Gainst Fortunes State, would Treason haue pronounc'd?
But if the Gods themselues did see her then,
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his Sword her Husbands limbes,
The instant Burst of Clamour that she made
(Vnlesse things mortall moue them not at all)
Would haue made milche the Burning eyes of Heauen,
And passion in the Gods

   Pol. Looke where he ha's not turn'd his colour, and
ha's teares in's eyes. Pray you no more

   Ham. 'Tis well, Ile haue thee speake out the rest,
soone. Good my Lord, will you see the Players wel bestow'd.
Do ye heare, let them be well vs'd: for they are
the Abstracts and breefe Chronicles of the time. After
your death, you were better haue a bad Epitaph, then
their ill report while you liued

   Pol. My Lord, I will vse them according to their desart

   Ham. Gods bodykins man, better. Vse euerie man
after his desart, and who should scape whipping: vse
them after your own Honor and Dignity. The lesse they
deserue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them
in

   Pol. Come sirs.

Exit Polon.

  Ham. Follow him Friends: wee'l heare a play to morrow.
Dost thou heare me old Friend, can you play the
murther of Gonzago?
  Play. I my Lord

   Ham. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for a
need study a speech of some dosen or sixteene lines, which
I would set downe, and insert in't? Could ye not?
  Play. I my Lord

   Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you
mock him not. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til night
you are welcome to Elsonower?
  Rosin. Good my Lord.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

  Ham. I so, God buy'ye: Now I am alone.
Oh what a Rogue and Pesant slaue am I?
Is it not monstrous that this Player heere,
But in a Fixion, in a dreame of Passion,
Could force his soule so to his whole conceit,
That from her working, all his visage warm'd;
Teares in his eyes, distraction in's Aspect,
A broken voyce, and his whole Function suiting
With Formes, to his Conceit? And all for nothing?
For Hecuba?
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weepe for her? What would he doe,
Had he the Motiue and the Cue for passion
That I haue? He would drowne the Stage with teares,
And cleaue the generall eare with horrid speech:
Make mad the guilty, and apale the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,
The very faculty of Eyes and Eares. Yet I,
A dull and muddy-metled Rascall, peake
Like Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing: No, not for a King,
Vpon whose property, and most deere life,
A damn'd defeate was made. Am I a Coward?
Who calles me Villaine? breakes my pate a-crosse?
Pluckes off my Beard, and blowes it in my face?
Tweakes me by'th' Nose? giues me the Lye i'th' Throate,
As deepe as to the Lungs? Who does me this?
Ha? Why I should take it: for it cannot be,
But I am Pigeon-Liuer'd, and lacke Gall
To make Oppression bitter, or ere this,
I should haue fatted all the Region Kites
With this Slaues Offall, bloudy: a Bawdy villaine,
Remorselesse, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindles villaine!
Oh Vengeance!
Who? What an Asse am I? I sure, this is most braue,
That I, the Sonne of the Deere murthered,
Prompted to my Reuenge by Heauen, and Hell,
Must (like a Whore) vnpacke my heart with words,
And fall a Cursing like a very Drab.
A Scullion? Fye vpon't: Foh. About my Braine.
I haue heard, that guilty Creatures sitting at a Play,
Haue by the very cunning of the Scoene,
Bene strooke so to the soule, that presently
They haue proclaim'd their Malefactions.
For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speake
With most myraculous Organ. Ile haue these Players,
Play something like the murder of my Father,
Before mine Vnkle. Ile obserue his lookes,
Ile rent him to the quicke: If he but blench
I know my course. The Spirit that I haue seene
May be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath power
T' assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps
Out of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly,
As he is very potent with such Spirits,
Abuses me to damne me. Ile haue grounds
More Relatiue then this: The Play's the thing,
Wherein Ile catch the Conscience of the King.

Exit

Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance,
Guildenstern, and
Lords.

  King. And can you by no drift of circumstance
Get from him why he puts on this Confusion:
Grating so harshly all his dayes of quiet
With turbulent and dangerous Lunacy

   Rosin. He does confesse he feeles himselfe distracted,
But from what cause he will by no meanes speake

   Guil. Nor do we finde him forward to be sounded,
But with a crafty Madnesse keepes aloofe:
When we would bring him on to some Confession
Of his true state

   Qu. Did he receiue you well?
  Rosin. Most like a Gentleman

   Guild. But with much forcing of his disposition

   Rosin. Niggard of question, but of our demands
Most free in his reply

   Qu. Did you assay him to any pastime?
  Rosin. Madam, it so fell out, that certaine Players
We ore-wrought on the way: of these we told him,
And there did seeme in him a kinde of ioy
To heare of it: They are about the Court,
And (as I thinke) they haue already order
This night to play before him

   Pol. 'Tis most true:
And he beseech'd me to intreate your Maiesties
To heare, and see the matter

   King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me
To heare him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen,
Giue him a further edge, and driue his purpose on
To these delights

   Rosin. We shall my Lord.

Exeunt.

  King. Sweet Gertrude leaue vs too,
For we haue closely sent for Hamlet hither,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may there
Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my selfe (lawful espials)
Will so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseene
We may of their encounter frankely iudge,
And gather by him, as he is behaued,
If't be th' affliction of his loue, or no.
That thus he suffers for

   Qu. I shall obey you,
And for your part Ophelia, I do wish
That your good Beauties be the happy cause
Of Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your Vertues
Will bring him to his wonted way againe,
To both your Honors

   Ophe. Madam, I wish it may

   Pol. Ophelia, walke you heere. Gracious so please ye
We will bestow our selues: Reade on this booke,
That shew of such an exercise may colour
Your lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this,
'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions visage,
And pious Action, we do surge o're
The diuell himselfe

   King. Oh 'tis true:
How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience?
The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art
Is not more vgly to the thing that helpes it,
Then is my deede, to my most painted word.
Oh heauie burthen!
  Pol. I heare him comming, let's withdraw my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

  Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer
The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune,
Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe
No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end
The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes
That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation
Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe,
To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub,
For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come,
When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile,
Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,
The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes
That patient merit of the vnworthy takes,
When he himselfe might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare
To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne
No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will,
And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue,
Then flye to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all,
And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution
Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard their Currants turne away,
And loose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons
Be all my sinnes remembred

   Ophe. Good my Lord,
How does your Honor for this many a day?
  Ham. I humbly thanke you: well, well, well

   Ophe. My Lord, I haue Remembrances of yours,
That I haue longed long to re-deliuer.
I pray you now, receiue them

   Ham. No, no, I neuer gaue you ought

   Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did,
And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd,
As made the things more rich, then perfume left:
Take these againe, for to the Noble minde
Rich gifts wax poore, when giuers proue vnkinde.
There my Lord

   Ham. Ha, ha: Are you honest?
  Ophe. My Lord

   Ham. Are you faire?
  Ophe. What meanes your Lordship?
  Ham. That if you be honest and faire, your Honesty
should admit no discourse to your Beautie

   Ophe. Could Beautie my Lord, haue better Comerce
then your Honestie?
  Ham. I trulie: for the power of Beautie, will sooner
transforme Honestie from what is, to a Bawd, then the
force of Honestie can translate Beautie into his likenesse.
This was sometime a Paradox, but now the time giues it
proofe. I did loue you once

   Ophe. Indeed my Lord, you made me beleeue so

   Ham. You should not haue beleeued me. For vertue
cannot so innocculate our old stocke, but we shall rellish
of it. I loued you not

   Ophe. I was the more deceiued

   Ham. Get thee to a Nunnerie. Why would'st thou
be a breeder of Sinners? I am my selfe indifferent honest,
but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better
my Mother had not borne me. I am very prowd, reuengefull,
Ambitious, with more offences at my becke,
then I haue thoughts to put them in imagination, to giue
them shape, or time to acte them in. What should such
Fellowes as I do, crawling betweene Heauen and Earth.
We are arrant Knaues all, beleeue none of vs. Goe thy
wayes to a Nunnery. Where's your Father?
  Ophe. At home, my Lord

   Ham. Let the doores be shut vpon him, that he may
play the Foole no way, but in's owne house. Farewell

   Ophe. O helpe him, you sweet Heauens

   Ham. If thou doest Marry, Ile giue thee this Plague
for thy Dowrie. Be thou as chast as Ice, as pure as Snow,
thou shalt not escape Calumny. Get thee to a Nunnery.
Go, Farewell. Or if thou wilt needs Marry, marry a fool:
for Wise men know well enough, what monsters you
make of them. To a Nunnery go, and quickly too. Farwell

   Ophe. O heauenly Powers, restore him

   Ham. I haue heard of your pratlings too wel enough.
God has giuen you one pace, and you make your selfe another:
you gidge, you amble, and you lispe, and nickname
Gods creatures, and make your Wantonnesse, your Ignorance.
Go too, Ile no more on't, it hath made me mad.
I say, we will haue no more Marriages. Those that are
married already, all but one shall liue, the rest shall keep
as they are. To a Nunnery, go.

Exit Hamlet.

  Ophe. O what a Noble minde is heere o're-throwne?
The Courtiers, Soldiers, Schollers: Eye, tongue, sword,
Th' expectansie and Rose of the faire State,
The glasse of Fashion, and the mould of Forme,
Th' obseru'd of all Obseruers, quite, quite downe.
Haue I of Ladies most deiect and wretched,
That suck'd the Honie of his Musicke Vowes:
Now see that Noble, and most Soueraigne Reason,
Like sweet Bels iangled out of tune, and harsh,
That vnmatch'd Forme and Feature of blowne youth,
Blasted with extasie. Oh woe is me,
T'haue seene what I haue seene: see what I see.
Enter King, and Polonius.

  King. Loue? His affections do not that way tend,
Nor what he spake, though it lack'd Forme a little,
Was not like Madnesse. There's something in his soule?
O're which his Melancholly sits on brood,
And I do doubt the hatch, and the disclose
Will be some danger, which to preuent
I haue in quicke determination
Thus set it downe. He shall with speed to England
For the demand of our neglected Tribute:
Haply the Seas and Countries different
With variable Obiects, shall expell
This something setled matter in his heart:
Whereon his Braines still beating, puts him thus
From fashion of himselfe. What thinke you on't?
  Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I beleeue
The Origin and Commencement of this greefe
Sprung from neglected loue. How now Ophelia?
You neede not tell vs, what Lord Hamlet saide,
We heard it all. My Lord, do as you please,
But if you hold it fit after the Play,
Let his Queene Mother all alone intreat him
To shew his Greefes: let her be round with him,
And Ile be plac'd so, please you in the eare
Of all their Conference. If she finde him not,
To England send him: Or confine him where
Your wisedome best shall thinke

   King. It shall be so:
Madnesse in great Ones, must not vnwatch'd go.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, and two or three of the Players.

  Ham. Speake the Speech I pray you, as I pronounc'd
it to you trippingly on the Tongue: But if you mouth it,
as many of your Players do, I had as liue the Town-Cryer
had spoke my Lines: Nor do not saw the Ayre too much
your hand thus, but vse all gently; for in the verie Torrent,
Tempest, and (as I say) the Whirle-winde of
Passion, you must acquire and beget a Temperance that
may giue it Smoothnesse. O it offends mee to the Soule,
to see a robustious Pery-wig-pated Fellow, teare a Passion
to tatters, to verie ragges, to split the eares of the
Groundlings: who (for the most part) are capeable of
nothing, but inexplicable dumbe shewes, & noise: I could
haue such a Fellow whipt for o're-doing Termagant: it
outHerod's Herod. Pray you auoid it

   Player. I warrant your Honor

   Ham. Be not too tame neyther: but let your owne
Discretion be your Tutor. Sute the Action to the Word,
the Word to the Action, with this speciall obseruance:
That you ore-stop not the modestie of Nature; for any
thing so ouer-done, is fro[m] the purpose of Playing, whose
end both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twer
the Mirrour vp to Nature; to shew Vertue her owne
Feature, Scorne her owne Image, and the verie Age and
Bodie of the Time, his forme and pressure. Now, this
ouer-done, or come tardie off, though it make the vnskilfull
laugh, cannot but make the Iudicious greeue; The
censure of the which One, must in your allowance o'reway
a whole Theater of Others. Oh, there bee Players
that I haue seene Play, and heard others praise, and that
highly (not to speake it prophanely) that neyther hauing
the accent of Christians, nor the gate of Christian, Pagan,
or Norman, haue so strutted and bellowed, that I haue
thought some of Natures Iouerney-men had made men,
and not made them well, they imitated Humanity so abhominably

   Play. I hope we haue reform'd that indifferently with
vs, Sir

   Ham. O reforme it altogether. And let those that
play your Clownes, speake no more then is set downe for
them. For there be of them, that will themselues laugh,
to set on some quantitie of barren Spectators to laugh
too, though in the meane time, some necessary Question
of the Play be then to be considered: that's Villanous, &
shewes a most pittifull Ambition in the Foole that vses
it. Go make you readie.

Exit Players.

Enter Polonius, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.

How now my Lord,
Will the King heare this peece of Worke?
  Pol. And the Queene too, and that presently

   Ham. Bid the Players make hast.

Exit Polonius.

Will you two helpe to hasten them?
  Both. We will my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Horatio.

  Ham. What hoa, Horatio?
  Hora. Heere sweet Lord, at your Seruice

   Ham. Horatio, thou art eene as iust a man
As ere my Conuersation coap'd withall

   Hora. O my deere Lord

   Ham. Nay, do not thinke I flatter:
For what aduancement may I hope from thee,
That no Reuennew hast, but thy good spirits
To feed & cloath thee. Why shold the poor be flatter'd?
No, let the Candied tongue, like absurd pompe,
And crooke the pregnant Hindges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow faining? Dost thou heare,
Since my deere Soule was Mistris of my choyse,
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath seal'd thee for her selfe. For thou hast bene
As one in suffering all, that suffers nothing.
A man that Fortunes buffets, and Rewards
Hath 'tane with equall Thankes. And blest are those,
Whose Blood and Iudgement are so well co-mingled,
That they are not a Pipe for Fortunes finger.
To sound what stop she please. Giue me that man,
That is not Passions Slaue, and I will weare him
In my hearts Core. I, in my Heart of heart,
As I do thee. Something too much of this.
There is a Play to night to before the King.
One Scoene of it comes neere the Circumstance
Which I haue told thee, of my Fathers death.
I prythee, when thou see'st that Acte a-foot,
Euen with the verie Comment of my Soule
Obserue mine Vnkle: If his occulted guilt,
Do not it selfe vnkennell in one speech,
It is a damned Ghost that we haue seene:
And my Imaginations are as foule
As Vulcans Stythe. Giue him needfull note,
For I mine eyes will riuet to his Face:
And after we will both our iudgements ioyne,
To censure of his seeming