Macbeth (Including The Biography of the Infamous Author). William Shakespeare

So were their daggers, which, unwip’d, we found

       Upon their pillows:

       They star’d, and were distracted; no man’s life

       Was to be trusted with them.

       MACBETH.

       O, yet I do repent me of my fury,

       That I did kill them.

       MACDUFF.

       Wherefore did you so?

       MACBETH.

       Who can be wise, amaz’d, temperate, and furious,

       Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:

       The expedition of my violent love

       Outrun the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan,

       His silver skin lac’d with his golden blood;

       And his gash’d stabs look’d like a breach in nature

       For ruin’s wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,

       Steep’d in the colours of their trade, their daggers

       Unmannerly breech’d with gore: who could refrain,

       That had a heart to love, and in that heart

       Courage to make’s love known?

       LADY MACBETH.

       Help me hence, ho!

       MACDUFF.

       Look to the lady.

       MALCOLM.

       Why do we hold our tongues,

       That most may claim this argument for ours?

       DONALBAIN.

       What should be spoken here, where our fate,

       Hid in an auger hole, may rush, and seize us?

       Let’s away;

       Our tears are not yet brew’d.

       MALCOLM.

       Nor our strong sorrow

       Upon the foot of motion.

       BANQUO.

       Look to the lady:—

       [Lady Macbeth is carried out.]

       And when we have our naked frailties hid,

       That suffer in exposure, let us meet,

       And question this most bloody piece of work

       To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us:

       In the great hand of God I stand; and thence,

       Against the undivulg’d pretense I fight

       Of treasonous malice.

       MACDUFF.

       And so do I.

       ALL.

       So all.

       MACBETH.

       Let’s briefly put on manly readiness,

       And meet i’ the hall together.

       ALL.

       Well contented.

       [Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.]

       MALCOLM.

       What will you do? Let’s not consort with them:

       To show an unfelt sorrow is an office

       Which the false man does easy. I’ll to England.

       DONALBAIN.

       To Ireland, I; our separated fortune

       Shall keep us both the safer: where we are,

       There’s daggers in men’s smiles: the near in blood,

       The nearer bloody.

       MALCOLM.

       This murderous shaft that’s shot

       Hath not yet lighted; and our safest way

       Is to avoid the aim. Therefore to horse;

       And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,

       But shift away: there’s warrant in that theft

       Which steals itself, when there’s no mercy left.

       [Exeunt.]

       SCENE IV. The same. Without the Castle.

       [Enter Ross and an old Man.]

       OLD MAN.

       Threescore and ten I can remember well:

       Within the volume of which time I have seen

       Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night

       Hath trifled former knowings.

       ROSS.

       Ah, good father,

       Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man’s act,

       Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock ‘tis day,

       And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp;

       Is’t night’s predominance, or the day’s shame,

       That darkness does the face of earth entomb,

       When living light should kiss it?

       OLD MAN.

       ‘Tis unnatural,

       Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday last,

       A falcon, towering in her pride of place,

       Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d.

       ROSS.

       And Duncan’s horses,—a thing most strange and certain,—

       Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,

       Turn’d wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,

       Contending ‘gainst obedience, as they would make

       War with mankind.

       OLD MAN.

       ‘Tis said they eat each other.

       ROSS.

       They did so; to the amazement of mine eyes,

       That look’d upon’t.

       Here comes the good Macduff.

       [Enter Macduff.]

       How goes the world, sir, now?

       MACDUFF.

       Why, see you not?

       ROSS.

       Is’t known who did this more than bloody deed?

       MACDUFF.

       Those that Macbeth hath slain.

       ROSS.

       Alas, the day!

       What good could they pretend?

       MACDUFF.

       They were suborn’d:

       Malcolm and Donalbain, the king’s two sons,

       Are stol’n away and fled; which puts upon them

       Suspicion of the deed.

       ROSS.

       ‘Gainst nature still:

       Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up

       Thine own life’s means!—Then ‘tis most like,

       The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.

       MACDUFF.

       He is already nam’d; and gone to Scone

       To be invested.

       ROSS.

       Where is Duncan’s body?

       MACDUFF.

       Carried to Colme-kill,

       The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,