The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Duchess of Malfi, by John Webster This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Duchess of Malfi Author: John Webster Release Date: June, 2000 [EBook #2232] Last Updated: February 7, 2013 Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII Produced by Gary R. Young and David Widger *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUCHESS OF MALFI ***

THE DUCHESS OF MALFI

by John Webster

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

FOOTNOTES:

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Of John Webster's life almost nothing is known. The dates 1580-1625 given for his birth and death are conjectural inferences, about which the best that can be said is that no known facts contradict them.

The first notice of Webster so far discovered shows that he was collaborating in the production of plays for the theatrical manager, Henslowe, in 1602, and of such collaboration he seems to have done a considerable amount. Four plays exist which he wrote alone, "The White Devil," "The Duchess of Malfi," "The Devil's Law-Case," and "Appius and Virginia."

"The Duchess of Malfi" was published in 1623, but the date of writing may have been as early as 1611. It is based on a story in Painter's "Palace of Pleasure," translated from the Italian novelist, Bandello; and it is entirely possible that it has a foundation in fact. In any case, it portrays with a terrible vividness one side of the court life of the Italian Renaissance; and its picture of the fierce quest of pleasure, the recklessness of crime, and the worldliness of the great princes of the Church finds only too ready corroboration in the annals of the time.

Webster's tragedies come toward the close of the great series of tragedies of blood and revenge, in which "The Spanish Tragedy" and "Hamlet" are landmarks, but before decadence can fairly be said to have set in. He, indeed, loads his scene with horrors almost past the point which modern taste can bear; but the intensity of his dramatic situations, and his superb power of flashing in a single line a light into the recesses of the human heart at the crises of supreme emotion, redeems him from mere sensationalism, and places his best things in the first rank of dramatic writing.

THE DUCHESS OF MALFI

Dramatis Personae

FERDINAND [Duke of Calabria].
CARDINAL [his brother].
ANTONIO [BOLOGNA, Steward of the Household to the Duchess].
DELIO [his friend].
DANIEL DE BOSOLA [Gentleman of the Horse to the Duchess].
[CASTRUCCIO, an old Lord].
MARQUIS OF PESCARA.
[COUNT] MALATESTI.

RODERIGO, ]
SILVIO, ] [Lords].
GRISOLAN, ]

DOCTOR.
The Several Madmen.

DUCHESS [OF MALFI].
CARIOLA [her woman].
[JULIA, Castruccio's wife, and] the Cardinal's mistress.
[Old Lady].

Ladies, Three Young Children, Two Pilgrims, Executioners,
Court Officers, and Attendants.

Act I

Scene I

[1]

[Enter] ANTONIO and DELIO

1.1 DELIO. You are welcome to your country, dear Antonio; You have been long in France, and you return A very formal Frenchman in your habit: How do you like the French court?

1.1 ANTONIO. I admire it: In seeking to reduce both state and people To a fix'd order, their judicious king Begins at home; quits first his royal palace Of flattering sycophants, of dissolute And infamous persons,—which he sweetly terms His master's master-piece, the work of heaven; Considering duly that a prince's court Is like a common fountain, whence should flow Pure silver drops in general, but if 't chance Some curs'd example poison 't near the head, Death and diseases through the whole land spread. And what is 't makes this blessed government But a most provident council, who dare freely Inform him the corruption of the times? Though some o' the court hold it presumption To instruct princes what they ought to do, It is a noble duty to inform them What they ought to foresee.[2]—Here comes Bosola, The only court-gall; yet I observe his railing Is not for simple love of piety: Indeed, he rails at those things which he wants; Would be as lecherous, covetous, or proud, Bloody, or envious, as any man, If he had means to be so.—Here's the cardinal.

[Enter CARDINAL and BOSOLA]

1.1 BOSOLA. I do haunt you still.

1.1 CARDINAL. So.

1.1 BOSOLA. I have done you better service than to be slighted thus. Miserable age, where only the reward of doing well is the doing of it!

1.1 CARDINAL. You enforce your merit too much.

1.1 BOSOLA. I fell into the galleys in your service: where, for two years together, I wore two towels instead of a shirt, with a knot on the shoulder, after the fashion of a Roman mantle. Slighted thus! I will thrive some way. Black-birds fatten best in hard weather; why not I in these dog-days?

1.1 CARDINAL. Would you could become honest!

1.1 BOSOLA. With all your divinity do but direct me the way to it. I have known many travel far for it, and yet return as arrant knaves as they went forth, because they carried themselves always along with them. [Exit CARDINAL.] Are you gone? Some fellows, they say, are possessed with the devil, but this great fellow were able to possess the greatest devil, and make him worse.

1.1 ANTONIO. He hath denied thee some suit?

1.1 BOSOLA. He and his brother are like plum-trees that grow crooked over standing-pools; they are rich and o'erladen with fruit, but none but crows, pies, and caterpillars feed on them. Could I be one of their flattering panders, I would hang on their ears like a horseleech, till I were full, and then drop off. I pray, leave me. Who would rely upon these miserable dependencies, in expectation to be advanc'd to-morrow? What creature ever fed worse than hoping Tantalus? Nor ever died any man more fearfully than he that hoped for a pardon. There are rewards for hawks and dogs when they have done us service; but for a soldier that hazards his limbs in a battle, nothing but a kind of geometry is his last supportation.

1.1 DELIO. Geometry?

1.1 BOSOLA. Ay, to hang in a fair pair of slings, take his latter swing in the world upon an honourable pair of crutches, from hospital to hospital. Fare ye well, sir: and yet do not you scorn us; for places in the court are but like beds in the hospital, where this man's head lies at that man's foot, and so lower and lower. [Exit.]

1.1 DELIO. I knew this fellow seven years in the galleys For a notorious murder; and 'twas thought The cardinal suborn'd it: he was releas'd By the French general, Gaston de Foix, When he recover'd Naples.

1.1 ANTONIO. 'Tis great pity He should be thus neglected: I have heard He 's very valiant. This foul melancholy Will poison all his goodness; for, I 'll tell you, If too immoderate sleep be truly said To be an inward rust unto the soul, If then doth follow want of action Breeds all black malcontents; and their close rearing, Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing.

Scene II

[3]

[Enter ANTONIO, DELIO, SILVIO, CASTRUCCIO, JULIA, RODERIGO and GRISOLAN]

1.2 DELIO. The presence 'gins to fill: you promis'd me To make me the partaker of the natures Of some of your great courtiers.

1.2 ANTONIO. The lord cardinal's And other strangers' that are now in court? I shall.—Here comes the great Calabrian duke.

[Enter FERDINAND and Attendants]

1.2 FERDINAND. Who took the ring oftenest?[4]

1.2 SILVIO. Antonio Bologna, my lord.

1.2 FERDINAND. Our sister duchess' great-master of her household? Give him the jewel.—When shall we leave this sportive action, and fall to action indeed?

1.2 CASTRUCCIO. Methinks, my lord, you should not desire to go to war in person.

1.2 FERDINAND. Now for some gravity.—Why, my lord?

1.2 CASTRUCCIO. It is fitting a soldier arise to be a prince, but not necessary a prince descend to be a captain.

1.2 FERDINAND. No?

1.2 CASTRUCCIO. No, my lord; he were far better do it by a deputy.

1.2 FERDINAND. Why should he not as well sleep or eat by a deputy? This might take idle, offensive, and base office from him, whereas the other deprives him of honour.

1.2 CASTRUCCIO. Believe my experience, that realm is never long in quiet where the ruler is a soldier.

1.2 FERDINAND. Thou toldest me thy wife could not endure fighting.

1.2 CASTRUCCIO. True, my lord.

1.2 FERDINAND. And of a jest she broke of[5] a captain she met full of wounds: I have forgot it.

1.2 CASTRUCCIO. She told him, my lord, he was a pitiful fellow, to lie, like the children of Ismael, all in tents.[6]

1.2 FERDINAND. Why, there's a wit were able to undo all the chirurgeons[7] o' the city; for although gallants should quarrel, and had drawn their weapons, and were ready to go to it, yet her persuasions would make them put up.

1.2 CASTRUCCIO. That she would, my lord.—How do you like my Spanish gennet?[8]

1.2 RODERIGO. He is all fire.

1.2 FERDINAND. I am of Pliny's opinion, I think he was begot by the wind; he runs as if he were ballass'd[9] with quicksilver.

1.2 SILVIO. True, my lord, he reels from the tilt often.

RODERIGO, GRISOLAN. Ha, ha, ha!

1.2 FERDINAND. Why do you laugh? Methinks you that are courtiers should be my touch-wood, take fire when I give fire; that is, laugh when I laugh, were the subject never so witty.

1.2 CASTRUCCIO. True, my lord: I myself have heard a very good jest, and have scorn'd to seem to have so silly a wit as to understand it.

1.2 FERDINAND. But I can laugh at your fool, my lord.

1.2 CASTRUCCIO. He cannot speak, you know, but he makes faces; my lady cannot abide him.

1.2 FERDINAND. No?

1.2 CASTRUCCIO. Nor endure to be in merry company; for she says too much laughing, and too much company, fills her too full of the wrinkle.

1.2 FERDINAND. I would, then, have a mathematical instrument made for her face, that she might not laugh out of compass.—I shall shortly visit you at Milan, Lord Silvio.

1.2 SILVIO. Your grace shall arrive most welcome.

1.2 FERDINAND. You are a good horseman, Antonio; you have excellent riders in France: what do you think of good horsemanship?

1.2 ANTONIO. Nobly, my lord: as out of the Grecian horse issued many famous princes, so out of brave horsemanship arise the first sparks of growing resolution, that raise the mind to noble action.

1.2 FERDINAND. You have bespoke it worthily.

1.2 SILVIO. Your brother, the lord cardinal, and sister duchess.

[Enter CARDINAL, with DUCHESS, and CARIOLA]

1.2 CARDINAL. Are the galleys come about?

1.2 GRISOLAN. They are, my lord.

1.2 FERDINAND. Here 's the Lord Silvio is come to take his leave.

1.2 DELIO. Now, sir, your promise: what 's that cardinal? I mean his temper? They say he 's a brave fellow, Will play his five thousand crowns at tennis, dance, Court ladies, and one that hath fought single combats.

1.2 ANTONIO. Some such flashes superficially hang on him for form; but observe his inward character: he is a melancholy churchman. The spring in his face is nothing but the engend'ring of toads; where he is jealous of any man, he lays worse plots for them than ever was impos'd on Hercules, for he strews in his way flatterers, panders, intelligencers, atheists, and a thousand such political monsters. He should have been Pope; but instead of coming to it by the primitive decency of the church, he did bestow bribes so largely and so impudently as if he would have carried it away without heaven's knowledge. Some good he hath done——

1.2 DELIO. You have given too much of him. What 's his brother?

1.2 ANTONIO. The duke there? A most perverse and turbulent nature. What appears in him mirth is merely outside; If he laught heartily, it is to laugh All honesty out of fashion.

1.2 DELIO. Twins?

1.2 ANTONIO. In quality. He speaks with others' tongues, and hears men's suits With others' ears; will seem to sleep o' the bench Only to entrap offenders in their answers; Dooms men to death by information; Rewards by hearsay.

1.2 DELIO. Then the law to him Is like a foul, black cobweb to a spider,— He makes it his dwelling and a prison To entangle those shall feed him.

1.2 ANTONIO. Most true: He never pays debts unless they be shrewd turns, And those he will confess that he doth owe. Last, for this brother there, the cardinal, They that do flatter him most say oracles Hang at his lips; and verily I believe them, For the devil speaks in them. But for their sister, the right noble duchess, You never fix'd your eye on three fair medals Cast in one figure, of so different temper. For her discourse, it is so full of rapture, You only will begin then to be sorry When she doth end her speech, and wish, in wonder, She held it less vain-glory to talk much, Than your penance to hear her. Whilst she speaks, She throws upon a man so sweet a look That it were able to raise one to a galliard.[10] That lay in a dead palsy, and to dote On that sweet countenance; but in that look There speaketh so divine a continence As cuts off all lascivious and vain hope. Her days are practis'd in such noble virtue, That sure her nights, nay, more, her very sleeps, Are more in heaven than other ladies' shrifts. Let all sweet ladies break their flatt'ring glasses, And dress themselves in her.

1.2 DELIO. Fie, Antonio, You play the wire-drawer with her commendations.

1.2 ANTONIO. I 'll case the picture up: only thus much; All her particular worth grows to this sum,— She stains[11] the time past, lights the time to come.

1.2 CARIOLA. You must attend my lady in the gallery, Some half and hour hence.

1.2 ANTONIO. I shall. [Exeunt ANTONIO and DELIO.]

1.2 FERDINAND. Sister, I have a suit to you.

1.2 DUCHESS. To me, sir?

1.2 FERDINAND. A gentleman here, Daniel de Bosola, One that was in the galleys——

1.2 DUCHESS. Yes, I know him.

1.2 FERDINAND. A worthy fellow he is: pray, let me entreat for The provisorship of your horse.

1.2 DUCHESS. Your knowledge of him Commends him and prefers him.

1.2 FERDINAND. Call him hither. [Exit Attendant.] We [are] now upon[12] parting. Good Lord Silvio, Do us commend to all our noble friends At the leaguer.

1.2 SILVIO. Sir, I shall.

1.2 DUCHESS. You are for Milan?

1.2 SILVIO. I am. 1.2 DUCHESS. Bring the caroches.[13]—We 'll bring you down To the haven. [Exeunt DUCHESS, SILVIO, CASTRUCCIO, RODERIGO, GRISOLAN, CARIOLA, JULIA, and Attendants.]

1.2 CARDINAL. Be sure you entertain that Bosola For your intelligence.[14] I would not be seen in 't; And therefore many times I have slighted him When he did court our furtherance, as this morning.

1.2 FERDINAND. Antonio, the great-master of her household, Had been far fitter.

1.2 CARDINAL. You are deceiv'd in him. His nature is too honest for such business.— He comes: I 'll leave you. [Exit.]

[Re-enter BOSOLA]

1.2 BOSOLA. I was lur'd to you.

1.2 FERDINAND. My brother, here, the cardinal, could never Abide you.

1.2 BOSOLA. Never since he was in my debt.

1.2 FERDINAND. May be some oblique character in your face Made him suspect you.

1.2 BOSOLA. Doth he study physiognomy? There 's no more credit to be given to the face Than to a sick man's urine, which some call The physician's whore, because she cozens[15] him. He did suspect me wrongfully.

1.2 FERDINAND. For that You must give great men leave to take their times. Distrust doth cause us seldom be deceiv'd. You see the oft shaking of the cedar-tree Fastens it more at root.

1.2 BOSOLA. Yet take heed; For to suspect a friend unworthily Instructs him the next way to suspect you, And prompts him to deceive you.

1.2 FERDINAND. There 's gold.

1.2 BOSOLA. So: What follows? [Aside.] Never rain'd such showers as these Without thunderbolts i' the tail of them.—Whose throat must I cut? 1.2 FERDINAND. Your inclination to shed blood rides post Before my occasion to use you. I give you that To live i' the court here, and observe the duchess; To note all the particulars of her haviour, What suitors do solicit her for marriage, And whom she best affects. She 's a young widow: I would not have her marry again.

1.2 BOSOLA. No, sir?

1.2 FERDINAND. Do not you ask the reason; but be satisfied. I say I would not.

1.2 BOSOLA. It seems you would create me One of your familiars.

1.2 FERDINAND. Familiar! What 's that?

1.2 BOSOLA. Why, a very quaint invisible devil in flesh,— An intelligencer.[16]

1.2 FERDINAND. Such a kind of thriving thing I would wish thee; and ere long thou mayst arrive At a higher place by 't.

1.2 BOSOLA. Take your devils, Which hell calls angels! These curs'd gifts would make You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor; And should I take these, they'd take me [to] hell.

1.2 FERDINAND. Sir, I 'll take nothing from you that I have given. There is a place that I procur'd for you This morning, the provisorship o' the horse; Have you heard on 't?

1.2 BOSOLA. No.

1.2 FERDINAND. 'Tis yours: is 't not worth thanks?

1.2 BOSOLA. I would have you curse yourself now, that your bounty (Which makes men truly noble) e'er should make me A villain. O, that to avoid ingratitude For the good deed you have done me, I must do All the ill man can invent! Thus the devil Candies all sins o'er; and what heaven terms vile, That names he complimental.

1.2 FERDINAND. Be yourself; Keep your old garb of melancholy; 'twill express You envy those that stand above your reach, Yet strive not to come near 'em. This will gain Access to private lodgings, where yourself May, like a politic dormouse——

1.2 BOSOLA. As I have seen some Feed in a lord's dish, half asleep, not seeming To listen to any talk; and yet these rogues Have cut his throat in a dream. What 's my place? The provisorship o' the horse? Say, then, my corruption Grew out of horse-dung: I am your creature.

1.2 FERDINAND. Away! [Exit.]

1.2 BOSOLA. Let good men, for good deeds, covet good fame, Since place and riches oft are bribes of shame. Sometimes the devil doth preach. [Exit.]

Scene III

[17]

[Enter FERDINAND, DUCHESS, CARDINAL, and CARIOLA]

1.3 CARDINAL. We are to part from you; and your own discretion Must now be your director.

1.3 FERDINAND. You are a widow: You know already what man is; and therefore Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence——

1.3 CARDINAL. No, Nor anything without the addition, honour, Sway your high blood.

1.3 FERDINAND. Marry! they are most luxurious[18] Will wed twice.

1.3 CARDINAL. O, fie!

1.3 FERDINAND. Their livers are more spotted Than Laban's sheep.[19]

1.3 DUCHESS. Diamonds are of most value, They say, that have pass'd through most jewellers' hands.

1.3 FERDINAND. Whores by that rule are precious.

1.3 DUCHESS. Will you hear me? I 'll never marry.

1.3 CARDINAL. So most widows say; But commonly that motion lasts no longer Than the turning of an hour-glass: the funeral sermon And it end both together.

1.3 FERDINAND. Now hear me: You live in a rank pasture, here, i' the court; There is a kind of honey-dew that 's deadly; 'T will poison your fame; look to 't. Be not cunning; For they whose faces do belie their hearts Are witches ere they arrive at twenty years, Ay, and give the devil suck.

1.3 DUCHESS. This is terrible good counsel.

1.3 FERDINAND. Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread, Subtler than Vulcan's engine:[20] yet, believe 't, Your darkest actions, nay, your privat'st thoughts, Will come to light.

1.3 CARDINAL. You may flatter yourself, And take your own choice; privately be married Under the eaves of night——

1.3 FERDINAND. Think 't the best voyage That e'er you made; like the irregular crab, Which, though 't goes backward, thinks that it goes right Because it goes its own way: but observe, Such weddings may more properly be said To be executed than celebrated.

1.3 CARDINAL. The marriage night Is the entrance into some prison.

1.3 FERDINAND. And those joys, Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps Which do fore-run man's mischief.

1.3 CARDINAL. Fare you well. Wisdom begins at the end: remember it. [Exit.]

1.3 DUCHESS. I think this speech between you both was studied, It came so roundly off.

1.3 FERDINAND. You are my sister; This was my father's poniard, do you see? I 'd be loth to see 't look rusty, 'cause 'twas his. I would have you give o'er these chargeable revels: A visor and a mask are whispering-rooms That were never built for goodness,—fare ye well— And women like that part which, like the lamprey, Hath never a bone in 't.

1.3 DUCHESS. Fie, sir!

1.3 FERDINAND. Nay, I mean the tongue: variety of courtship. What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale Make a woman believe? Farewell, lusty widow. [Exit.]

1.3 DUCHESS. Shall this move me? If all my royal kindred Lay in my way unto this marriage, I 'd make them my low footsteps. And even now, Even in this hate, as men in some great battles, By apprehending danger, have achiev'd Almost impossible actions (I have heard soldiers say so), So I through frights and threatenings will assay This dangerous venture. Let old wives report I wink'd and chose a husband.—Cariola, To thy known secrecy I have given up More than my life,—my fame.

1.3 CARIOLA. Both shall be safe; For I 'll conceal this secret from the world As warily as those that trade in poison Keep poison from their children.

1.3 DUCHESS. Thy protestation Is ingenious and hearty; I believe it. Is Antonio come?

1.3 CARIOLA. He attends you.

1.3 DUCHESS. Good dear soul, Leave me; but place thyself behind the arras, Where thou mayst overhear us. Wish me good speed; For I am going into a wilderness, Where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue To be my guide. [Cariola goes behind the arras.] [Enter ANTONIO] I sent for you: sit down; Take pen and ink, and write: are you ready?

1.3 ANTONIO. Yes.

1.3 DUCHESS. What did I say?

1.3 ANTONIO. That I should write somewhat.

1.3 DUCHESS. O, I remember. After these triumphs and this large expense It 's fit, like thrifty husbands,[21] we inquire What 's laid up for to-morrow.

1.3 ANTONIO. So please your beauteous excellence.

1.3 DUCHESS. Beauteous! Indeed, I thank you. I look young for your sake; You have ta'en my cares upon you.

1.3 ANTONIO. I 'll fetch your grace The particulars of your revenue and expense.

1.3 DUCHESS. O, you are An upright treasurer: but you mistook; For when I said I meant to make inquiry What 's laid up for to-morrow, I did mean What 's laid up yonder for me.

1.3 ANTONIO. Where?

1.3 DUCHESS. In heaven. I am making my will (as 'tis fit princes should, In perfect memory), and, I pray, sir, tell me, Were not one better make it smiling, thus, Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks, As if the gifts we parted with procur'd[22] That violent distraction?

1.3 ANTONIO. O, much better.

1.3 DUCHESS. If I had a husband now, this care were quit: But I intend to make you overseer. What good deed shall we first remember? Say.

1.3 ANTONIO. Begin with that first good deed began i' the world After man's creation, the sacrament of marriage; I 'd have you first provide for a good husband; Give him all.

1.3 DUCHESS. All!

1.3 ANTONIO. Yes, your excellent self.

1.3 DUCHESS. In a winding-sheet?

1.3 ANTONIO. In a couple.

1.3 DUCHESS. Saint Winifred, that were a strange will!

1.3 ANTONIO. 'Twere stranger[23] if there were no will in you To marry again.

1.3 DUCHESS. What do you think of marriage?

1.3 ANTONIO. I take 't, as those that deny purgatory, It locally contains or heaven or hell; There 's no third place in 't.

1.3 DUCHESS. How do you affect it?

1.3 ANTONIO. My banishment, feeding my melancholy, Would often reason thus.

1.3 DUCHESS. Pray, let 's hear it.

1.3 ANTONIO. Say a man never marry, nor have children, What takes that from him? Only the bare name Of being a father, or the weak delight To see the little wanton ride a-cock-horse Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter Like a taught starling.

1.3 DUCHESS. Fie, fie, what 's all this? One of your eyes is blood-shot; use my ring to 't. They say 'tis very sovereign. 'Twas my wedding-ring, And I did vow never to part with it But to my second husband.

1.3 ANTONIO. You have parted with it now.

1.3 DUCHESS. Yes, to help your eye-sight.

1.3 ANTONIO. You have made me stark blind.

1.3 DUCHESS. How?

1.3 ANTONIO. There is a saucy and ambitious devil Is dancing in this circle.

1.3 DUCHESS. Remove him.

1.3 ANTONIO. How?

1.3 DUCHESS. There needs small conjuration, when your finger May do it: thus. Is it fit? [She puts the ring upon his finger. He kneels.]

1.3 ANTONIO. What said you?

1.3 DUCHESS. Sir, This goodly roof of yours is too low built; I cannot stand upright in 't nor discourse, Without I raise it higher. Raise yourself; Or, if you please, my hand to help you: so. [Raises him.]

1.3 ANTONIO. Ambition, madam, is a great man's madness, That is not kept in chains and close-pent rooms, But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt With the wild noise of prattling visitants, Which makes it lunatic beyond all cure. Conceive not I am so stupid but I aim[24] Whereto your favours tend: but he 's a fool That, being a-cold, would thrust his hands i' the fire To warm them.

1.3 DUCHESS. So, now the ground 's broke, You may discover what a wealthy mine I make your lord of.

1.3 ANTONIO. O my unworthiness!

1.3 DUCHESS. You were ill to sell yourself: This dark'ning of your worth is not like that Which tradesmen use i' the city; their false lights Are to rid bad wares off: and I must tell you, If you will know where breathes a complete man (I speak it without flattery), turn your eyes, And progress through yourself.

1.3 ANTONIO. Were there nor heaven nor hell, I should be honest: I have long serv'd virtue, And ne'er ta'en wages of her.

1.3 DUCHESS. Now she pays it. The misery of us that are born great! We are forc'd to woo, because none dare woo us; And as a tyrant doubles with his words, And fearfully equivocates, so we Are forc'd to express our violent passions In riddles and in dreams, and leave the path Of simple virtue, which was never made To seem the thing it is not. Go, go brag You have left me heartless; mine is in your bosom: I hope 'twill multiply love there. You do tremble: Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh, To fear more than to love me. Sir, be confident: What is 't distracts you? This is flesh and blood, sir; 'Tis not the figure cut in alabaster Kneels at my husband's tomb. Awake, awake, man! I do here put off all vain ceremony, And only do appear to you a young widow That claims you for her husband, and, like a widow, I use but half a blush in 't.

1.3 ANTONIO. Truth speak for me; I will remain the constant sanctuary Of your good name.

1.3 DUCHESS. I thank you, gentle love: And 'cause you shall not come to me in debt, Being now my steward, here upon your lips I sign your Quietus est.[25] This you should have begg'd now. I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus, As fearful to devour them too soon.

1.3 ANTONIO. But for your brothers?

1.3 DUCHESS. Do not think of them: All discord without this circumference Is only to be pitied, and not fear'd: Yet, should they know it, time will easily Scatter the tempest.

1.3 ANTONIO. These words should be mine, And all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it Would not have savour'd flattery.

1.3 DUCHESS. Kneel. [Cariola comes from behind the arras.]

1.3 ANTONIO. Ha!

1.3 DUCHESS. Be not amaz'd; this woman 's of my counsel: I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber Per verba [de] presenti[26] is absolute marriage. [She and ANTONIO kneel.] Bless, heaven, this sacred gordian[27] which let violence Never untwine!

1.3 ANTONIO. And may our sweet affections, like the spheres, Be still in motion!

1.3 DUCHESS. Quickening, and make The like soft music!

1.3 ANTONIO. That we may imitate the loving palms, Best emblem of a peaceful marriage, That never bore fruit, divided!

1.3 DUCHESS. What can the church force more?

1.3 ANTONIO. That fortune may not know an accident, Either of joy or sorrow, to divide Our fixed wishes!

1.3 DUCHESS. How can the church build faster?[28] We now are man and wife, and 'tis the church That must but echo this.—Maid, stand apart: I now am blind.

1.3 ANTONIO. What 's your conceit in this?

1.3 DUCHESS. I would have you lead your fortune by the hand Unto your marriage-bed: (You speak in me this, for we now are one:) We 'll only lie and talk together, and plot To appease my humorous[29] kindred; and if you please, Like the old tale in Alexander and Lodowick, Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste. O, let me shrowd my blushes in your bosom, Since 'tis the treasury of all my secrets! [Exeunt DUCHESS and ANTONIO.]

1.3 CARIOLA. Whether the spirit of greatness or of woman Reign most in her, I know not; but it shows A fearful madness. I owe her much of pity. [Exit.]

Act II

Scene I

[30]

[Enter] BOSOLA and CASTRUCCIO

2.1 BOSOLA. You say you would fain be taken for an eminent courtier?

2.1 CASTRUCCIO. 'Tis the very main[31] of my ambition.

2.1 BOSOLA. Let me see: you have a reasonable good face for 't already, and your night-cap expresses your ears sufficient largely. I would have you learn to twirl the strings of your band with a good grace, and in a set speech, at th' end of every sentence, to hum three or four times, or blow your nose till it smart again, to recover your memory. When you come to be a president in criminal causes, if you smile upon a prisoner, hang him; but if you frown upon him and threaten him, let him be sure to scape the gallows.

2.1 CASTRUCCIO. I would be a very merry president.

2.1 BOSOLA. Do not sup o' nights; 'twill beget you an admirable wit.

2.1 CASTRUCCIO. Rather it would make me have a good stomach to quarrel; for they say, your roaring boys eat meat seldom, and that makes them so valiant. But how shall I know whether the people take me for an eminent fellow?

2.1 BOSOLA. I will teach a trick to know it: give out you lie a-dying, and if you hear the common people curse you, be sure you are taken for one of the prime night-caps.[32] [Enter an Old Lady] You come from painting now.

2.1 OLD LADY. From what?

2.1 BOSOLA. Why, from your scurvy face-physic. To behold thee not painted inclines somewhat near a miracle. These in thy face here were deep ruts and foul sloughs the last progress.[33] There was a lady in France that, having had the small-pox, flayed the skin off her face to make it more level; and whereas before she looked like a nutmeg-grater, after she resembled an abortive hedge-hog.

2.1 OLD LADY. Do you call this painting?

2.1 BOSOLA. No, no, but you call [it] careening[34] of an old morphewed[35] lady, to make her disembogue[36] again: there 's rough-cast phrase to your plastic.[37]

2.1 OLD LADY. It seems you are well acquainted with my closet.

2.1 BOSOLA. One would suspect it for a shop of witchcraft, to find in it the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews' spittle, and their young children's ordure; and all these for the face. I would sooner eat a dead pigeon taken from the soles of the feet of one sick of the plague, than kiss one of you fasting. Here are two of you, whose sin of your youth is the very patrimony of the physician; makes him renew his foot-cloth with the spring, and change his high-pric'd courtezan with the fall of the leaf. I do wonder you do not loathe yourselves. Observe my meditation now. What thing is in this outward form of man To be belov'd? We account it ominous, If nature do produce a colt, or lamb, A fawn, or goat, in any limb resembling A man, and fly from 't as a prodigy: Man stands amaz'd to see his deformity In any other creature but himself. But in our own flesh though we bear diseases Which have their true names only ta'en from beasts,— As the most ulcerous wolf and swinish measle,— Though we are eaten up of lice and worms, And though continually we bear about us A rotten and dead body, we delight To hide it in rich tissue: all our fear, Nay, all our terror, is, lest our physician Should put us in the ground to be made sweet.— Your wife 's gone to Rome: you two couple, and get you to the wells at Lucca to recover your aches. I have other work on foot. [Exeunt CASTRUCCIO and Old Lady] I observe our duchess Is sick a-days, she pukes, her stomach seethes, The fins of her eye-lids look most teeming blue,[38] She wanes i' the cheek, and waxes fat i' the flank, And, contrary to our Italian fashion, Wears a loose-bodied gown: there 's somewhat in 't. I have a trick may chance discover it, A pretty one; I have bought some apricocks, The first our spring yields.

[Enter ANTONIO and DELIO, talking together apart]

2.1 DELIO. And so long since married? You amaze me.

2.1 ANTONIO. Let me seal your lips for ever: For, did I think that anything but th' air Could carry these words from you, I should wish You had no breath at all.—Now, sir, in your contemplation? You are studying to become a great wise fellow.

2.1 BOSOLA. O, sir, the opinion of wisdom is a foul tetter[39] that runs all over a man's body: if simplicity direct us to have no evil, it directs us to a happy being; for the subtlest folly proceeds from the subtlest wisdom: let me be simply honest.

2.1 ANTONIO. I do understand your inside.

2.1 BOSOLA. Do you so?

2.1 ANTONIO. Because you would not seem to appear to th' world Puff'd up with your preferment, you continue This out-of-fashion melancholy: leave it, leave it.

2.1 BOSOLA. Give me leave to be honest in any phrase, in any compliment whatsoever. Shall I confess myself to you? I look no higher than I can reach: they are the gods that must ride on winged horses. A lawyer's mule of a slow pace will both suit my disposition and business; for, mark me, when a man's mind rides faster than his horse can gallop, they quickly both tire.

2.1 ANTONIO. You would look up to heaven, but I think The devil, that rules i' th' air, stands in your light.

2.1 BOSOLA. O, sir, you are lord of the ascendant,[40] chief man with the duchess: a duke was your cousin-german remov'd. Say you were lineally descended from King Pepin, or he himself, what of this? Search the heads of the greatest rivers in the world, you shall find them but bubbles of water. Some would think the souls of princes were brought forth by some more weighty cause than those of meaner persons: they are deceiv'd, there 's the same hand to them; the like passions sway them; the same reason that makes a vicar go to law for a tithe-pig, and undo his neighbours, makes them spoil a whole province, and batter down goodly cities with the cannon.

[Enter DUCHESS and Ladies]

2.1 DUCHESS. Your arm, Antonio: do I not grow fat? I am exceeding short-winded.—Bosola, I would have you, sir, provide for me a litter; Such a one as the Duchess of Florence rode in.

2.1 BOSOLA. The duchess us'd one when she was great with child.

2.1 DUCHESS. I think she did.—Come hither, mend my ruff: Here, when? thou art such a tedious lady; and Thy breath smells of lemon-pills: would thou hadst done! Shall I swoon under thy fingers? I am So troubled with the mother![41]

2.1 BOSOLA. [Aside.] I fear too much. 2.1 DUCHESS. I have heard you say that the French courtiers Wear their hats on 'fore that king.

2.1 ANTONIO. I have seen it.

2.1 DUCHESS. In the presence?

2.1 ANTONIO. Yes.

2.1 DUCHESS. Why should not we bring up that fashion? 'Tis ceremony more than duty that consists In the removing of a piece of felt. Be you the example to the rest o' th' court; Put on your hat first.

2.1 ANTONIO. You must pardon me: I have seen, in colder countries than in France, Nobles stand bare to th' prince; and the distinction Methought show'd reverently.

2.1 BOSOLA. I have a present for your grace.

2.1 DUCHESS. For me, sir?

2.1 BOSOLA. Apricocks, madam.

2.1 DUCHESS. O, sir, where are they? I have heard of none to-year[42]

2.1 BOSOLA. [Aside.] Good; her colour rises.

2.1 DUCHESS. Indeed, I thank you: they are wondrous fair ones. What an unskilful fellow is our gardener! We shall have none this month.

2.1 BOSOLA. Will not your grace pare them?

2.1 DUCHESS. No: they taste of musk, methinks; indeed they do.

2.1 BOSOLA. I know not: yet I wish your grace had par'd 'em.

2.1 DUCHESS. Why?

2.1 BOSOLA. I forgot to tell you, the knave gardener, Only to raise his profit by them the sooner, Did ripen them in horse-dung.

2.1 DUCHESS. O, you jest.— You shall judge: pray, taste one.

2.1 ANTONIO. Indeed, madam, I do not love the fruit.

2.1 DUCHESS. Sir, you are loth To rob us of our dainties. 'Tis a delicate fruit; They say they are restorative.

2.1 BOSOLA. 'Tis a pretty art, This grafting.

2.1 DUCHESS. 'Tis so; a bettering of nature.

2.1 BOSOLA. To make a pippin grow upon a crab, A damson on a black-thorn.—[Aside.] How greedily she eats them! A whirlwind strike off these bawd farthingales! For, but for that and the loose-bodied gown, I should have discover'd apparently[43] The young springal[44] cutting a caper in her belly.

2.1 DUCHESS. I thank you, Bosola: they were right good ones, If they do not make me sick.

2.1 ANTONIO. How now, madam!

2.1 DUCHESS. This green fruit and my stomach are not friends: How they swell me!

2.1 BOSOLA. [Aside.] Nay, you are too much swell'd already.

2.1 DUCHESS. O, I am in an extreme cold sweat!

2.1 BOSOLA. I am very sorry. [Exit.]

2.1 DUCHESS. Lights to my chamber!—O good Antonio, I fear I am undone!

2.1 DELIO. Lights there, lights! Exeunt DUCHESS [and Ladies.]

2.1 ANTONIO. O my most trusty Delio, we are lost! I fear she 's fall'n in labour; and there 's left No time for her remove.

2.1 DELIO. Have you prepar'd Those ladies to attend her; and procur'd That politic safe conveyance for the midwife Your duchess plotted?

2.1 ANTONIO. I have.

2.1 DELIO. Make use, then, of this forc'd occasion. Give out that Bosola hath poison'd her With these apricocks; that will give some colour For her keeping close.

2.1 ANTONIO. Fie, fie, the physicians Will then flock to her.

2.1 DELIO. For that you may pretend She'll use some prepar'd antidote of her own, Lest the physicians should re-poison her.

2.1 ANTONIO. I am lost in amazement: I know not what to think on 't. [Exeunt]

Scene II

[45]

[Enter] BOSOLA and Old Lady

2.2 BOSOLA. So, so, there 's no question but her techiness[46] and most vulturous eating of the apricocks are apparent signs of breeding, now?

2.2 OLD LADY. I am in haste, sir.

2.2 BOSOLA. There was a young waiting-woman had a monstrous desire to see the glass-house——

2.2 OLD LADY. Nay, pray, let me go. I will hear no more of the glass-house. You are still[47] abusing women!

2.2 BOSOLA. Who, I? No; only, by the way now and then, mention your frailties. The orange-tree bears ripe and green fruit and blossoms all together; and some of you give entertainment for pure love, but more for more precious reward. The lusty spring smells well; but drooping autumn tastes well. If we have the same golden showers that rained in the time of Jupiter the thunderer, you have the same Danaes still, to hold up their laps to receive them. Didst thou never study the mathematics?

2.2 OLD LADY. What 's that, sir?

2.2 BOSOLA. Why, to know the trick how to make a many lines meet in one centre. Go, go, give your foster-daughters good counsel: tell them, that the devil takes delight to hang at a woman's girdle, like a false rusty watch, that she cannot discern how the time passes. [Exit Old Lady.]

[Enter ANTONIO, RODERIGO, and GRISOLAN]

2.2 ANTONIO. Shut up the court-gates.

2.2 RODERIGO. Why, sir? What 's the danger?

2.2 ANTONIO. Shut up the posterns presently, and call All the officers o' th' court.

2.2 GRISOLAN. I shall instantly. [Exit.]

2.2 ANTONIO. Who keeps the key o' th' park-gate?

2.2 RODERIGO. Forobosco.

2.2 ANTONIO. Let him bring 't presently.

[Re-enter GRISOLAN with Servants]

2.2 FIRST SERVANT. O, gentleman o' th' court, the foulest treason!

2.2 BOSOLA. [Aside.] If that these apricocks should be poison'd now, Without my knowledge?

2.2 FIRST SERVANT. There was taken even now a Switzer in the duchess' bed-chamber——

2.2 SECOND SERVANT. A Switzer!

2.2 FIRST SERVANT. With a pistol——

2.2 SECOND SERVANT. There was a cunning traitor!

2.2 FIRST SERVANT. And all the moulds of his buttons were leaden bullets.

2.2 SECOND SERVANT. O wicked cannibal!

2.2 FIRST SERVANT. 'Twas a French plot, upon my life.

2.2 SECOND SERVANT. To see what the devil can do!

2.2 ANTONIO. [Are] all the officers here?

2.2 SERVANTS. We are.

2.2 ANTONIO. Gentlemen, We have lost much plate, you know; and but this evening Jewels, to the value of four thousand ducats, Are missing in the duchess' cabinet. Are the gates shut?

2.2 SERVANT. Yes.

2.2 ANTONIO. 'Tis the duchess' pleasure Each officer be lock'd into his chamber Till the sun-rising; and to send the keys Of all their chests and of their outward doors Into her bed-chamber. She is very sick.

2.2 RODERIGO. At her pleasure.

2.2 ANTONIO. She entreats you take 't not ill: the innocent Shall be the more approv'd by it. 2.2 BOSOLA. Gentlemen o' the wood-yard, where 's your Switzer now?

2.2 FIRST SERVANT. By this hand, 'twas credibly reported by one o' the black guard.[48] [Exeunt all except ANTONIO and DELIO.]

2.2 DELIO. How fares it with the duchess?

2.2 ANTONIO. She 's expos'd Unto the worst of torture, pain, and fear.

2.2 DELIO. Speak to her all happy comfort.

2.2 ANTONIO. How I do play the fool with mine own danger! You are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome: My life lies in your service.

2.2 DELIO. Do not doubt me.

2.2 ANTONIO. O, 'tis far from me: and yet fear presents me Somewhat that looks like danger.

2.2 DELIO. Believe it, 'Tis but the shadow of your fear, no more: How superstitiously we mind our evils! The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare, Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse, Or singing of a cricket, are of power To daunt whole man in us. Sir, fare you well: I wish you all the joys of a bless'd father; And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast,— Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best. [Exit.]

[Enter CARIOLA]

2.2 CARIOLA. Sir, you are the happy father of a son: Your wife commends him to you.

2.2 ANTONIO. Blessed comfort!— For heaven' sake, tend her well: I 'll presently[49] Go set a figure for 's nativity.[50] [Exeunt]

Scene III

[51]

[Enter BOSOLA, with a dark lantern]

2.3 BOSOLA. Sure I did hear a woman shriek: list, ha! And the sound came, if I receiv'd it right, From the duchess' lodgings. There 's some stratagem In the confining all our courtiers To their several wards: I must have part of it; My intelligence will freeze else. List, again! It may be 'twas the melancholy bird, Best friend of silence and of solitariness, The owl, that screamed so.—Ha! Antonio!

[Enter ANTONIO with a candle, his sword drawn]

2.3 ANTONIO. I heard some noise.—Who 's there? What art thou? Speak.

2.3 BOSOLA. Antonio, put not your face nor body To such a forc'd expression of fear; I am Bosola, your friend.

2.3 ANTONIO. Bosola!— [Aside.] This mole does undermine me.—Heard you not A noise even now?

2.3 BOSOLA. From whence?

2.3 ANTONIO. From the duchess' lodging.

2.3 BOSOLA. Not I: did you?

2.3 ANTONIO. I did, or else I dream'd.

2.3 BOSOLA. Let 's walk towards it.

2.3 ANTONIO. No: it may be 'twas But the rising of the wind.

2.3 BOSOLA. Very likely. Methinks 'tis very cold, and yet you sweat: You look wildly.

2.3 ANTONIO. I have been setting a figure[52] For the duchess' jewels.

2.3 BOSOLA. Ah, and how falls your question? Do you find it radical?[53]

2.3 ANTONIO. What 's that to you? 'Tis rather to be question'd what design, When all men were commanded to their lodgings, Makes you a night-walker.

2.3 BOSOLA. In sooth, I 'll tell you: Now all the court 's asleep, I thought the devil Had least to do here; I came to say my prayers; And if it do offend you I do so, You are a fine courtier.

2.3 ANTONIO. [Aside.] This fellow will undo me.— You gave the duchess apricocks to-day: Pray heaven they were not poison'd!

2.3 BOSOLA. Poison'd! a Spanish fig For the imputation!

2.3 ANTONIO. Traitors are ever confident Till they are discover'd. There were jewels stol'n too: In my conceit, none are to be suspected More than yourself.

2.3 BOSOLA. You are a false steward.

2.3 ANTONIO. Saucy slave, I 'll pull thee up by the roots.

2.3 BOSOLA. May be the ruin will crush you to pieces.

2.3 ANTONIO. You are an impudent snake indeed, sir: Are you scarce warm, and do you show your sting? You libel[54] well, sir?

2.3 BOSOLA. No, sir: copy it out, And I will set my hand to 't.

2.3 ANTONIO. [Aside.] My nose bleeds. One that were superstitious would count This ominous, when it merely comes by chance. Two letters, that are wrought here for my name,[55] Are drown'd in blood! Mere accident.—For you, sir, I 'll take order I' the morn you shall be safe.—[Aside.] 'Tis that must colour Her lying-in.—Sir, this door you pass not: I do not hold it fit that you come near The duchess' lodgings, till you have quit yourself.— [Aside.] The great are like the base, nay, they are the same, When they seek shameful ways to avoid shame. [Exit]

2.3 BOSOLA. Antonio hereabout did drop a paper:— Some of your help, false friend.[56]—O, here it is. What 's here? a child's nativity calculated! [Reads.] 'The duchess was deliver'd of a son, 'tween the hours twelve and one in the night, Anno Dom. 1504,'—that 's this year—'decimo nono Decembris,'—that 's this night— 'taken according to the meridian of Malfi,'—that 's our duchess: happy discovery!—'The lord of the first house being combust in the ascendant, signifies short life; and Mars being in a human sign, joined to the tail of the Dragon, in the eighth house, doth threaten a violent death. Caetera non scrutantur.'[57] Why, now 'tis most apparent; this precise fellow Is the duchess' bawd:—I have it to my wish! This is a parcel of intelligency[58] Our courtiers were cas'd up for: it needs must follow That I must be committed on pretence Of poisoning her; which I 'll endure, and laugh at. If one could find the father now! but that Time will discover. Old Castruccio I' th' morning posts to Rome: by him I 'll send A letter that shall make her brothers' galls O'erflow their livers. This was a thrifty[59] way! Though lust do mask in ne'er so strange disguise, She 's oft found witty, but is never wise. [Exit.]

Scene IV

[60]

[Enter CARDINAL and JULIA]

2.4 CARDINAL. Sit: thou art my best of wishes. Prithee, tell me What trick didst thou invent to come to Rome Without thy husband?

2.4 JULIA. Why, my lord, I told him I came to visit an old anchorite[61] Here for devotion.

2.4 CARDINAL. Thou art a witty false one,— I mean, to him.

2.4 JULIA. You have prevail'd with me Beyond my strongest thoughts; I would not now Find you inconstant.

2.4 CARDINAL. Do not put thyself To such a voluntary torture, which proceeds Out of your own guilt.

2.4 JULIA. How, my lord!

2.4 CARDINAL. You fear My constancy, because you have approv'd[62] Those giddy and wild turnings in yourself.

2.4 JULIA. Did you e'er find them?

2.4 CARDINAL. Sooth, generally for women, A man might strive to make glass malleable, Ere he should make them fixed.

2.4 JULIA. So, my lord.

2.4 CARDINAL. We had need go borrow that fantastic glass Invented by Galileo the Florentine To view another spacious world i' th' moon, And look to find a constant woman there.

2.4 JULIA. This is very well, my lord.

2.4 CARDINAL. Why do you weep? Are tears your justification? The self-same tears Will fall into your husband's bosom, lady, With a loud protestation that you love him Above the world. Come, I 'll love you wisely, That 's jealously; since I am very certain You cannot make me cuckold.

2.4 JULIA. I 'll go home To my husband.

2.4 CARDINAL. You may thank me, lady, I have taken you off your melancholy perch, Bore you upon my fist, and show'd you game, And let you fly at it.—I pray thee, kiss me.— When thou wast with thy husband, thou wast watch'd Like a tame elephant:—still you are to thank me:— Thou hadst only kisses from him and high feeding; But what delight was that? 'Twas just like one That hath a little fing'ring on the lute, Yet cannot tune it:—still you are to thank me.

2.4 JULIA. You told me of a piteous wound i' th' heart, And a sick liver, when you woo'd me first, And spake like one in physic.[63]

2.4 CARDINAL. Who 's that?—— [Enter Servant] Rest firm, for my affection to thee, Lightning moves slow to 't.

2.4 SERVANT. Madam, a gentleman, That 's come post from Malfi, desires to see you.

2.4 CARDINAL. Let him enter: I 'll withdraw. [Exit]

2.4 SERVANT. He says Your husband, old Castruccio, is come to Rome, Most pitifully tir'd with riding post. [Exit.]

[Enter DELIO]

2.4 JULIA. [Aside.] Signior Delio! 'tis one of my old suitors. 2.4 DELIO. I was bold to come and see you.

2.4 JULIA. Sir, you are welcome.

2.4 DELIO. Do you lie here?

2.4 JULIA. Sure, your own experience Will satisfy you no: our Roman prelates Do not keep lodging for ladies.

2.4 DELIO. Very well: I have brought you no commendations from your husband, For I know none by him.

2.4 JULIA. I hear he 's come to Rome.

2.4 DELIO. I never knew man and beast, of a horse and a knight, So weary of each other. If he had had a good back, He would have undertook to have borne his horse, His breech was so pitifully sore.

2.4 JULIA. Your laughter Is my pity.

2.4 DELIO. Lady, I know not whether You want money, but I have brought you some.

2.4 JULIA. From my husband?

2.4 DELIO. No, from mine own allowance.

2.4 JULIA. I must hear the condition, ere I be bound to take it.

2.4 DELIO. Look on 't, 'tis gold; hath it not a fine colour?

2.4 JULIA. I have a bird more beautiful.

2.4 DELIO. Try the sound on 't.

2.4 JULIA. A lute-string far exceeds it. It hath no smell, like cassia or civet; Nor is it physical,[64] though some fond doctors Persuade us seethe 't in cullises.[65] I 'll tell you, This is a creature bred by——

[Re-enter Servant]

2.4 SERVANT. Your husband 's come, Hath deliver'd a letter to the Duke of Calabria That, to my thinking, hath put him out of his wits. [Exit.]

2.4 JULIA. Sir, you hear: Pray, let me know your business and your suit As briefly as can be.

2.4 DELIO. With good speed: I would wish you, At such time as you are non-resident With your husband, my mistress.

2.4 JULIA. Sir, I 'll go ask my husband if I shall, And straight return your answer. [Exit]

2.4 DELIO. Very fine! Is this her wit, or honesty, that speaks thus? I heard one say the duke was highly mov'd With a letter sent from Malfi. I do fear Antonio is betray'd. How fearfully Shows his ambition now! Unfortunate fortune! They pass through whirl-pools, and deep woes do shun, Who the event weigh ere the action 's done. [Exit]

Scene V

[66]

[Enter] CARDINAL and FERDINAND with a letter

2.5 FERDINAND. I have this night digg'd up a mandrake.[67]

2.5 CARDINAL. Say you?

2.5 FERDINAND. And I am grown mad with 't.

2.5 CARDINAL. What 's the prodigy[?]

2.5 FERDINAND. Read there,—a sister damn'd: she 's loose i' the hilts;[68] Grown a notorious strumpet.

2.5 CARDINAL. Speak lower.

2.5 FERDINAND. Lower! Rogues do not whisper 't now, but seek to publish 't (As servants do the bounty of their lords) Aloud; and with a covetous searching eye, To mark who note them. O, confusion seize her! She hath had most cunning bawds to serve her turn, And more secure conveyances for lust Than towns of garrison for service.

2.5 CARDINAL. Is 't possible? Can this be certain?

2.5 FERDINAND. Rhubarb, O, for rhubarb To purge this choler! Here 's the cursed day To prompt my memory; and here 't shall stick Till of her bleeding heart I make a sponge To wipe it out.

2.5 CARDINAL. Why do you make yourself So wild a tempest?

2.5 FERDINAND. Would I could be one, That I might toss her palace 'bout her ears, Root up her goodly forests, blast her meads, And lay her general territory as waste As she hath done her honours.

2.5 CARDINAL. Shall our blood, The royal blood of Arragon and Castile, Be thus attainted?

2.5 FERDINAND. Apply desperate physic: We must not now use balsamum, but fire, The smarting cupping-glass, for that 's the mean To purge infected blood, such blood as hers. There is a kind of pity in mine eye,— I 'll give it to my handkercher; and now 'tis here, I 'll bequeath this to her bastard.

to our hearts,
Disguising what they are.

3.2.40 LADY MACBETH

You must leave this.

3.2.41 MACBETH

O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.

3.2.43 LADY MACBETH

But in them nature's copy's not eterne.

3.2.44 MACBETH

There's comfort yet; they are assailable;
Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown
His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons
The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
A deed of dreadful note.

3.2.50 LADY MACBETH

What's to be done?

3.2.51 MACBETH

Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night,
Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;
And with thy bloody and invisible hand
Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the crow
Makes wing to the rooky wood:
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;
While night's black agents to their preys do rouse.
Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still;
Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
So, prithee, go with me.

Exeunt

Contents

Act 3

Scene 3

A park near the palace.

Enter three Murderers

3.3.1 Murderer One

But who did bid thee join with us?

3.3.2 Murderer Three

Macbeth.

3.3.3 Murderer Two

He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers
Our offices and what we have to do
To the direction just.

3.3.6 Murderer One

Then stand with us.
The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:
Now spurs the lated traveller apace
To gain the timely inn; and near approaches
The subject of our watch.

3.3.11 Murderer Three

Hark! I hear horses.

3.3.12 BANQUO

[Within] Give us a light there, ho!

3.3.13 Murderer Two

Then 'tis he: the rest
That are within the note of expectation
Already are i' the court.

3.3.16 Murderer One

His horses go about.

3.3.17 Murderer Three

Almost a mile: but he does usually,
So all men do, from hence to the palace gate
Make it their walk.

3.3.20 Murderer Two

A light, a light!

Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE with a torch

3.3.21 Murderer Three

'Tis he.

3.3.22 Murderer One

Stand to't.

3.3.23 BANQUO

It will be rain tonight.

3.3.24 Murderer One

Let it come down.

They set upon BANQUO

3.3.25 BANQUO

O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!
Thou mayst revenge. O slave!

Dies. FLEANCE escapes

3.3.27 Murderer Three

Who did strike out the light?

3.3.28 Murderer One

Wast not the way?

3.3.29 Murderer Three

There's but one down; the son is fled.

3.3.30 Murderer Two

We have lost
Best half of our affair.

3.3.32 Murderer One

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

Exeunt

Contents

Act 3

Scene 4

The same. An hall in the palace.

A banquet prepared. Enter MACBETH, LADY MACBETH, ROSS, LENNOX, Lords, and Attendants

3.4.1 MACBETH

You know your own degrees; sit down: at first
And last the hearty welcome.

3.4.3 Lords

Thanks to your majesty.

3.4.4 MACBETH

Ourself will mingle with society,
And play the humble host.
Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time
We will require her welcome.

3.4.8 LADY MACBETH

Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;
For my heart speaks they are welcome.

Murderer One appears at the door

3.4.10 MACBETH

See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.
Both sides are even: here I'll sit i' the midst:
Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure
The table round.

Approaching the door

There's blood on thy face.

3.4.15 Murderer One

'Tis Banquo's then.

3.4.16 MACBETH

'Tis better thee without than he within.
Is he dispatch'd?

3.4.18 Murderer One

My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.

3.4.19 MACBETH

Thou art the best o' the cut-throats: yet he's good
That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,
Thou art the nonpareil.

3.4.22 Murderer One

Most royal sir,
Fleance is 'scaped.

3.4.24 MACBETH

Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect,
Whole as the marble, founded as the rock,
As broad and general as the casing air:
But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in
To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe?

3.4.29 Murderer One

Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
The least a death to nature.

3.4.32 MACBETH

Thanks for that:
There the grown serpent lies; the worm that's fled
Hath nature that in time will venom breed,
No teeth for the present. Get thee gone: tomorrow
We'll hear, ourselves, again.

Exit Murderer

3.4.37 LADY MACBETH

My royal lord,
You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold
That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a-making,
'Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home;
From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony;
Meeting were bare without it.

3.4.43 MACBETH

Sweet remembrancer!
Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!

3.4.46 LENNOX

May't please your highness sit.

The GHOST OF BANQUO enters, and sits in MACBETH's place

3.4.47 MACBETH

Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,
Were the graced person of our Banquo present;
Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
Than pity for mischance!

3.4.51 ROSS

His absence, sir,
Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness
To grace us with your royal company.

3.4.54 MACBETH

The table's full.

3.4.55 LENNOX

Here is a place reserved, sir.

3.4.56 MACBETH

Where?

3.4.57 LENNOX

Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your highness?

3.4.58 MACBETH

Which of you have done this?

3.4.59 Lords

What, my good lord?

3.4.60 MACBETH

Thou canst not say I did it: never shake
Thy gory locks at me.

3.4.62 ROSS

Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well.

3.4.63 LADY MACBETH

Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus,
And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat;
The fit is momentary; upon a thought
He will again be well: if much you note him,
You shall offend him and extend his passion:
Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?

3.4.69 MACBETH

Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
Which might appal the devil.

3.4.71 LADY MACBETH

O proper stuff!
This is the very painting of your fear:
This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts,
Impostors to true fear, would well become
A woman's story at a winter's fire,
Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
You look but on a stool.

3.4.80 MACBETH

Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo!
how say you?
Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.
If charnel-houses and our graves must send
Those that we bury back, our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites.

GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes

3.4.86 LADY MACBETH

What, quite unmann'd in folly?

3.4.87 MACBETH

If I stand here, I saw him.

3.4.88 LADY MACBETH

Fie, for shame!

3.4.89 MACBETH

Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,
Ere human statute purged the gentle weal;
Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd
Too terrible for the ear: the times have been,
That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end; but now they rise again,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools: this is more strange
Than such a murder is.

3.4.98 LADY MACBETH

My worthy lord,
Your noble friends do lack you.

3.4.100 MACBETH

I do forget.
Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends,
I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing
To those that know me. Come, love and health to all;
Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine; fill full.
I drink to the general joy o' the whole table,
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
And all to all.

3.4.109 Lords

Our duties, and the pledge.

Re-enter GHOST OF BANQUO

3.4.110 MACBETH

Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee!
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with!

3.4.114 LADY MACBETH

Think of this, good peers,
But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.

3.4.117 MACBETH

What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger;
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble: or be alive again,
And dare me to the desert with thy sword;
If trembling I inhabit then, protest me
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!
Unreal mockery, hence!

GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes

Why, so: being gone,
I am a man again. Pray you, sit still.

3.4.128 LADY MACBETH

You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,
With most admired disorder.

3.4.130 MACBETH

Can such things be,
And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
Without our special wonder? You make me strange
Even to the disposition that I owe,
When now I think you can behold such sights,
And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,
When mine is blanched with fear.

3.4.137 ROSS

What sights, my lord?

3.4.138 LADY MACBETH

I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse;
Question enrages him. At once, good night:
Stand not upon the order of your going,
But go at once.

3.4.142 LENNOX

Good night; and better health
Attend his majesty!

3.4.144 LADY MACBETH

A kind good night to all!

Exeunt all but MACBETH and LADY MACBETH

3.4.145 MACBETH

It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood:
Stones have been known to move and trees to speak;
Augurs and understood relations have
By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth
The secret'st man of blood. What is the night?

3.4.150 LADY MACBETH

Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

3.4.151 MACBETH

How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person
At our great bidding?

3.4.153 LADY MACBETH

Did you send to him, sir?

3.4.154 MACBETH

I hear it by the way; but I will send:
There's not a one of them but in his house
I keep a servant fee'd. I will tomorrow,
And betimes I will, to the weird sisters:
More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know,
By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good,
All causes shall give way: I am in blood
Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er:
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.

3.4.165 LADY MACBETH

You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

3.4.166 MACBETH

Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse
Is the initiate fear that wants hard use:
We are yet but young in deed.

Exeunt

Contents

Act 3

Scene 5

A heath.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches meeting HECATE

3.5.1 Witch One

Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly.

3.5.2 HECATE

Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
Saucy and overbold? How did you dare
To trade and traffic with Macbeth
In riddles and affairs of death;
And I, the mistress of your charms,
The close contriver of all harms,
Was never call'd to bear my part,
Or show the glory of our art?
And, which is worse, all you have done
Hath been but for a wayward son,
Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do,
Loves for his own ends, not for you.
But make amends now: get you gone,
And at the pit of Acheron
Meet me i' the morning: thither he
Will come to know his destiny:
Your vessels and your spells provide,
Your charms and every thing beside.
I am for the air; this night I'll spend
Unto a dismal and a fatal end:
Great business must be wrought ere noon:
Upon the corner of the moon
There hangs a vaporous drop profound;
I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
And that distill'd by magic sleights
Shall raise such artificial sprites
As by the strength of their illusion
Shall draw him on to his confusion:
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
He hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear:
And you all know, security
Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

Music and a song within: 'Come away, come away,' &c.

Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see,
Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.

Exit

3.5.36 Witch One

Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.

Exeunt

Contents

Act 3

Scene 6

Forres. The palace.

Enter LENNOX and another Lord

3.6.1 LENNOX

My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,
Which can interpret further: only, I say,
Things have been strangely borne. The
gracious Duncan
Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead:
And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;
Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd,
For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late.
Who cannot want the thought how monstrous
It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain
To kill their gracious father? damned fact!
How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight
In pious rage the two delinquents tear,
That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep?
Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too;
For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive
To hear the men deny't. So that, I say,
He has borne all things well: and I do think
That had he Duncan's sons under his key –
As, an't please heaven, he shall not – they
should find
What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance.
But, peace! for from broad words and 'cause he fail'd
His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear
Macduff lives in disgrace: sir, can you tell
Where he bestows himself?

3.6.27 Lord

The son of Duncan,
From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth
Lives in the English court, and is received
Of the most pious Edward with such grace
That the malevolence of fortune nothing
Takes from his high respect: thither Macduff
Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid
To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward:
That, by the help of these – with Him above
To ratify the work – we may again
Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights,
Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives,
Do faithful homage and receive free honours:
All which we pine for now: and this report
Hath so exasperate the king that he
Prepares for some attempt of war.

3.6.43 LENNOX

Sent he to Macduff?

3.6.44 Lord

He did: and with an absolute 'Sir, not I,'
The cloudy messenger turns me his back,
And hums, as who should say 'You'll rue the time
That clogs me with this answer.'

3.6.48 LENNOX

And that well might
Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance
His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel
Fly to the court of England and unfold
His message ere he come, that a swift blessing
May soon return to this our suffering country
Under a hand accursed!

3.6.55 Lord

I'll send my prayers with him.

Exeunt

Contents

Act 4

Scene 1

A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches

4.1.1 Witch One

Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.

4.1.2 Witch Two

Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.

4.1.3 Witch Three

Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time.

4.1.4 Witch One

Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty-one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

4.1.10 ALL

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

4.1.12 Witch Two

Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

4.1.20 ALL

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

4.1.22 Witch Three

Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Silver'd in the moon's eclipse,
Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
For the ingredients of our cauldron.

4.1.35 ALL

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

4.1.37 Witch Two

Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.

Enter HECATE to the other three Witches

4.1.39 HECATE

O well done! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i' the gains;
And now about the cauldron sing,
Live elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.

Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' &c.

HECATE retires

4.1.44 Witch Two

By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Open, locks,
Whoever knocks!

Enter MACBETH

4.1.48 MACBETH

How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!
What is't you do?

4.1.50 ALL

A deed without a name.

4.1.51 MACBETH

I conjure you, by that which you profess,
Howe'er you come to know it, answer me:
Though you untie the winds and let them fight
Against the churches; though the yesty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up;
Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down;
Though castles topple on their warders' heads;
Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
Of nature's germens tumble all together,
Even till destruction sicken; answer me
To what I ask you.

4.1.63 Witch One

Speak.

4.1.64 Witch Two

Demand.

4.1.65 Witch Three

We'll answer.

4.1.66 Witch One

Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,
Or from our masters?

4.1.68 MACBETH

Call 'em; let me see 'em.

4.1.69 Witch One

Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten
From the murderer's gibbet throw
Into the flame.

4.1.73 ALL

Come, high or low;
Thyself and office deftly show!

Thunder. Apparition One: an armed Head

4.1.75 MACBETH

Tell me, thou unknown power, –

4.1.76 Witch One

He knows thy thought:
Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

4.1.78 Apparition One

Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;
Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.

Descends

4.1.80 MACBETH

Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;
Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one
word more, –

4.1.83 Witch One

He will not be commanded: here's another,
More potent than the first.

Thunder. Apparition Two: A bloody Child

4.1.85 Apparition Two

Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!

4.1.86 MACBETH

Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee.

4.1.87 Apparition Two

Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn
The power of man, for none of woman born
Shall harm Macbeth.

Descends

4.1.90 MACBETH

Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee?
But yet I'll make assurance double sure,
And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,
And sleep in spite of thunder.

Thunder. Apparition Three: a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand

What is this
That rises like the issue of a king,
And wears upon his baby-brow the round
And top of sovereignty?

4.1.99 ALL

Listen, but speak not to't.

4.1.100 Apparition Three

Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him.

Descends

4.1.105 MACBETH

That will never be
Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art
Can tell so much: shall Banquo's issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?

4.1.115 ALL

Seek to know no more.

4.1.116 MACBETH

I will be satisfied: deny me this,
And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.
Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?

Hautboys

4.1.119 Witch One

Show!

4.1.120 Witch Two

Show!

4.1.121 Witch Three

Show!

4.1.122 ALL

Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
Come like shadows, so depart!

A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand; GHOST OF BANQUO following

4.1.124 MACBETH

Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down!
Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.
A third is like the former. Filthy hags!
Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes!
What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?
Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more:
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass
Which shows me many more; and some I see
That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry:
Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true;
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his.

Apparitions vanish

What, is this so?

4.1.138 Witch One

Ay, sir, all this is so: but why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,
And show the best of our delights:
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antic round:
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.

Music. The witches dance and then vanish, with HECATE

4.1.146 MACBETH

Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour
Stand aye accursed in the calendar!
Come in, without there!

Enter LENNOX

4.1.149 LENNOX

What's your grace's will?

4.1.150 MACBETH

Saw you the weird sisters?

4.1.151 LENNOX

No, my lord.

4.1.152 MACBETH

Came they not by you?

4.1.153 LENNOX

No, indeed, my lord.

4.1.154 MACBETH

Infected be the air whereon they ride;
And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear
The galloping of horse: who was't came by?

4.1.157 LENNOX

'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word
Macduff is fled to England.

4.1.159 MACBETH

Fled to England!

4.1.160 LENNOX

Ay, my good lord.

4.1.161 MACBETH

Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits:
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook
Unless the deed go with it; from this moment
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And even now,
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:
The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;
This deed I'll do before this purpose cool.
But no more sights! – Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are.

Exeunt

Contents

Act 4

Scene 2

Fife. Macduff's castle.

Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSS

4.2.1 LADY MACDUFF

What had he done, to make him fly the land?

4.2.2 ROSS

You must have patience, madam.

4.2.3 LADY MACDUFF

He had none:
His flight was madness: when our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors.

4.2.6 ROSS

You know not
Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.

4.2.8 LADY MACDUFF

Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,
His mansion and his titles in a place
From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All is the fear and nothing is the love;
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason.

4.2.17 ROSS

My dearest coz,
I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
The fits o' the season. I dare not speak
much further;
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors
And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear,
But float upon a wild and violent sea
Each way and move. I take my leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be here again:
Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before. My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!

4.2.31 LADY MACDUFF

Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.

4.2.32 ROSS

I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace and your discomfort:
I take my leave at once.

Exit

4.2.35 LADY MACDUFF

Sirrah, your father's dead;
And what will you do now? How will you live?

4.2.37 Son

As birds do, mother.

4.2.38 LADY MACDUFF

What, with worms and flies?

4.2.39 Son

With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

4.2.40 LADY MACDUFF

Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime,
The pitfall nor the gin.

4.2.42 Son

Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
My father is not dead, for all your saying.

4.2.44 LADY MACDUFF

Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?

4.2.45 Son

Nay, how will you do for a husband?

4.2.46 LADY MACDUFF

Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.

4.2.47 Son

Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

4.2.48 LADY MACDUFF

Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith,
With wit enough for thee.

4.2.50 Son

Was my father a traitor, mother?

4.2.51 LADY MACDUFF

Ay, that he was.

4.2.52 Son

What is a traitor?

4.2.53 LADY MACDUFF

Why, one that swears and lies.

4.2.54 Son

And be all traitors that do so?

4.2.55 LADY MACDUFF

Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.

4.2.56 Son

And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?

4.2.57 LADY MACDUFF

Every one.

4.2.58 Son

Who must hang them?

4.2.59 LADY MACDUFF

Why, the honest men.

4.2.60 Son

Then the liars and swearers are fools,
for there are liars and swearers enow to beat
the honest men and hang up them.

4.2.63 LADY MACDUFF

Now, God help thee, poor monkey!
But how wilt thou do for a father?

4.2.65 Son

If he were dead, you'ld weep for
him: if you would not, it were a good sign
that I should quickly have a new father.

4.2.68 LADY MACDUFF

Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!

Enter a Messenger

4.2.69 Messenger

Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
I doubt some danger does approach you nearly:
If you will take a homely man's advice,
Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;
To do worse to you were fell cruelty,
Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!
I dare abide no longer.

Exit

4.2.78 LADY MACDUFF

Whither should I fly?
I have done no harm. But I remember now
I am in this earthly world; where to do harm
Is often laudable, to do good sometime
Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas,
Do I put up that womanly defence,
To say I have done no harm?

Enter Murderers

What are these faces?

4.2.86 Murderer One

Where is your husband?

4.2.87 LADY MACDUFF

I hope, in no place so unsanctified
Where such as thou mayst find him.

4.2.89 Murderer One

He's a traitor.

4.2.90 Son

Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!

4.2.91 Murderer One

What, you egg!

Stabbing him

Young fry of treachery!

4.2.93 Son

He has kill'd me, mother:
Run away, I pray you!

Dies

Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying 'Murder!' Exeunt Murderers, following her

Contents

Act 4

Scene 3

England. Before the King's palace.

Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF

4.3.1 MALCOLM

Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
Weep our sad bosoms empty.

4.3.3 MACDUFF

Let us rather
Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men
Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new morn
New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out
Like syllable of dolour.

4.3.10 MALCOLM

What I believe I'll wail,
What know believe, and what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you have loved him well.
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young;
but something
You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom
To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb
To appease an angry god.

4.3.21 MACDUFF

I am not treacherous.

4.3.22 MALCOLM

But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil
In an imperial charge. But I shall crave
your pardon;
That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose:
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.

4.3.30 MACDUFF

I have lost my hopes.

4.3.31 MALCOLM

Perchance even there where I did find my doubts.
Why in that rawness left you wife and child,
Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,
Without leave-taking? I pray you,
Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just,
Whatever I shall think.

4.3.38 MACDUFF

Bleed, bleed, poor country!
Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dare not check thee: wear thou
thy wrongs;
The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord:
I would not be the villain that thou think'st
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
And the rich East to boot.

4.3.46 MALCOLM

Be not offended:
I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;
It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds: I think withal
There would be hands uplifted in my right;
And here from gracious England have I offer
Of goodly thousands: but, for all this,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before,
More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed.

4.3.59 MACDUFF

What should he be?

4.3.60 MALCOLM

It is myself I mean: in whom I know
All the particulars of vice so grafted
That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state
Esteem him as a lamb, being compared
With my confineless harms.

4.3.66 MACDUFF

Not in the legions
Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd
In evils to top Macbeth.

4.3.69 MALCOLM

I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin
That has a name: but there's no bottom, none,
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up
The cistern of my lust, and my desire
All continent impediments would o'erbear
That did oppose my will: better Macbeth
Than such an one to reign.

4.3.79 MACDUFF

Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
The untimely emptying of the happy throne
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours: you may
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.
We have willing dames enough: there cannot be
That vulture in you, to devour so many
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so inclined.

4.3.90 MALCOLM

With this there grows
In my most ill-composed affection such
A stanchless avarice that, were I king,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands,
Desire his jewels and this other's house:
And my more-having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more; that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.

4.3.99 MACDUFF

This avarice
Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will.
Of your mere own: all these are portable,
With other graces weigh'd.

4.3.106 MALCOLM

But I have none: the king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them, but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.

4.3.116 MACDUFF

O Scotland, Scotland!

4.3.117 MALCOLM

If such a one be fit to govern, speak:
I am as I have spoken.

4.3.119 MACDUFF

Fit to govern!
No, not to live. O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accursed,
And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee,
Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself
Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,
Thy hope ends here!

4.3.132 MALCOLM

Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
By many of these trains hath sought to win me
Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous haste: but God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now
I put myself to thy direction, and
Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,
At no time broke my faith, would not betray
The devil to his fellow and delight
No less in truth than life: my first false speaking
Was this upon myself: what I am truly,
Is thine and my poor country's to command:
Whither indeed, before thy here-approach,
Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
Already at a point, was setting forth.
Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?

4.3.156 MACDUFF

Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
'Tis hard to reconcile.

Enter a Doctor

4.3.158 MALCOLM

Well; more anon. – Comes the king forth, I pray you?

4.3.159 Doctor

Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls
That stay his cure: their malady convinces
The great assay of art; but at his touch –
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand –
They presently amend.

4.3.164 MALCOLM

I thank you, doctor.

Exit Doctor

4.3.165 MACDUFF

What's the disease he means?

4.3.166 MALCOLM

'Tis call'd the evil:
A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which often, since my here-remain in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,
And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.

Enter ROSS

4.3.180 MACDUFF

See, who comes here?

4.3.181 MALCOLM

My countryman; but yet I know him not.

4.3.182 MACDUFF

My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

4.3.183 MALCOLM

I know him now. Good God, betimes remove
The means that makes us strangers!

4.3.185 ROSS

Sir, amen.

4.3.186 MACDUFF

Stands Scotland where it did?

4.3.187 ROSS

Alas, poor country!
Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell
Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps,
Dying or ere they sicken.

4.3.197 MACDUFF

O, relation
Too nice, and yet too true!

4.3.199 MALCOLM

What's the newest grief?

4.3.200 ROSS

That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker:
Each minute teems a new one.

4.3.202 MACDUFF

How does my wife?

4.3.203 ROSS

Why, well.

4.3.204 MACDUFF

And all my children?

4.3.205 ROSS

Well too.

4.3.206 MACDUFF

The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?

4.3.207 ROSS

No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.

4.3.208 MACDUFF

But not a niggard of your speech: how goes't?

4.3.209 ROSS

When I came hither to transport the tidings,
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
Of many worthy fellows that were out;
Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot:
Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
Would create soldiers, make our women fight,
To doff their dire distresses.

4.3.217 MALCOLM

Be't their comfort
We are coming thither: gracious England hath
Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men;
An older and a better soldier none
That Christendom gives out.

4.3.222 ROSS

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

4.3.226 MACDUFF

What concern they?
The general cause? or is it a fee-grief
Due to some single breast?

4.3.229 ROSS

No mind that's honest
But in it shares some woe; though the main part
Pertains to you alone.

4.3.232 MACDUFF

If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

4.3.234 ROSS

Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
That ever yet they heard.

4.3.237 MACDUFF

Hum! I guess at it.

4.3.238 ROSS

Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes
Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,
Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
To add the death of you.

4.3.242 MALCOLM

Merciful heaven!
What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.

4.3.246 MACDUFF

My children too?

4.3.247 ROSS

Wife, children, servants, all
That could be found.

4.3.249 MACDUFF

And I must be from thence!
My wife kill'd too?

4.3.251 ROSS

I have said.

4.3.252 MALCOLM

Be comforted:
Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.

4.3.255 MACDUFF

He has no children. All my pretty ones?
Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?
What, all my pretty chickens and their dam
At one fell swoop?

4.3.259 MALCOLM

Dispute it like a man.

4.3.260 MACDUFF

I shall do so;
But I must also feel it as a man:
I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,
And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now!

4.3.268 MALCOLM

Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.

4.3.270 MACDUFF

O, I could play the woman with mine eyes
And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens,
Cut short all intermission; front to front
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too!

4.3.276 MALCOLM

This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave; Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may:
The night is long that never finds the day.

Exeunt

Contents

Act 5

Scene 1

Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle.

Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman

5.1.1 Doctor

I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive
no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?

5.1.3 Gentlewoman

Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen
her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon
her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it,
write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again
return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

5.1.8 Doctor

A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once
the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of
watching! In this slumbery agitation, besides her
walking and other actual performances, what, at any
time, have you heard her say?

5.1.13 Gentlewoman

That, sir, which I will not report after her.

5.1.14 Doctor

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

5.1.15 Gentlewoman

Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to
confirm my speech.

Enter LADY MACBETH, with a taper

Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise;
and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.

5.1.19 Doctor

How came she by that light?

5.1.20 Gentlewoman

Why, it stood by her: she has light by her
continually; 'tis her command.

5.1.22 Doctor

You see, her eyes are open.

5.1.23 Gentlewoman

Ay, but their sense is shut.

5.1.24 Doctor

What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.

5.1.25 Gentlewoman

It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus
washing her hands: I have known her continue in
this a quarter of an hour.

5.1.28 LADY MACBETH

Yet here's a spot.

5.1.29 Doctor

Hark! she speaks: I will set down what comes from
her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.

5.1.31 LADY MACBETH

Out, damned spot! out, I say! – One: two: why,
then, 'tis time to do't. – Hell is murky! – Fie, my
lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we
fear who knows it, when none can call our power to
account? – Yet who would have thought the old man
to have had so much blood in him.

5.1.37 Doctor

Do you mark that?

5.1.38 LADY MACBETH

The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now? –
What, will these hands ne'er be clean? – No more o'
that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with
this starting.

5.1.42 Doctor

Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.

5.1.43 Gentlewoman

She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of
that: heaven knows what she has known.

5.1.45 LADY MACBETH

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

5.1.48 Doctor

What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.

5.1.49 Gentlewoman

I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the
dignity of the whole body.

5.1.51 Doctor

Well, well, well, –

5.1.52 Gentlewoman

Pray God it be, sir.

5.1.53 Doctor

This disease is beyond my practise: yet I have known
those which have walked in their sleep who have died
holily in their beds.

5.1.56 LADY MACBETH

Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so
pale. – I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he
cannot come out on's grave.

5.1.59 Doctor

Even so?

5.1.60 LADY MACBETH

To bed, to bed! there's knocking at the gate:
come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's
done cannot be undone. – To bed, to bed, to bed!

Exit

5.1.63 Doctor

Will she go now to bed?

5.1.64 Gentlewoman

Directly.

5.1.65 Doctor

Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds
Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets:
More needs she the divine than the physician.
God, God forgive us all! Look after her;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night:
My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight.
I think, but dare not speak.

5.1.74 Gentlewoman

Good night, good doctor.

Exeunt

Contents

Act 5

Scene 2

The country near Dunsinane.

Drum and colours. Enter MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, and Soldiers

5.2.1 MENTEITH

The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,
His uncle Siward and the good Macduff:
Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes
Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm
Excite the mortified man.

5.2.6 ANGUS

Near Birnam wood
Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.

5.2.8 CAITHNESS

Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?

5.2.9 LENNOX

For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file
Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son,
And many unrough youths that even now
Protest their first of manhood.

5.2.13 MENTEITH

What does the tyrant?

5.2.14 CAITHNESS

Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him
Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Within the belt of rule.

5.2.19 ANGUS

Now does he feel
His secret murders sticking on his hands;
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
Those he commands move only in command,
Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.

5.2.26 MENTEITH

Who then shall blame
His pester'd senses to recoil and start,
When all that is within him does condemn
Itself for being there?

5.2.30 CAITHNESS

Well, march we on,
To give obedience where 'tis truly owed:
Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal,
And with him pour we in our country's purge
Each drop of us.

5.2.35 LENNOX

Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam.

Exeunt, marching

Contents

Act 5

Scene 3

Dunsinane. A room in the castle.

Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants

5.3.1 MACBETH

Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:
'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman
Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then fly,
false thanes,
And mingle with the English epicures:
The mind I sway by and the heart I bear
Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.

Enter a Servant

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
Where got'st thou that goose look?

5.3.14 Servant

There is ten thousand –

5.3.15 MACBETH

Geese, villain!

5.3.16 Servant

Soldiers, sir.

5.3.17 MACBETH

Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?

5.3.21 Servant

The English force, so please you.

5.3.22 MACBETH

Take thy face hence.

Exit Servant

Seyton! – I am sick at heart,
When I behold – Seyton, I say! – This push
Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
I have lived long enough: my way of life
Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf;
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton!

Enter SEYTON

5.3.33 SEYTON

What is your gracious pleasure?

5.3.34 MACBETH

What news more?

5.3.35 SEYTON

All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.

5.3.36 MACBETH

I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
Give me my armour.

5.3.38 SEYTON

'Tis not needed yet.

5.3.39 MACBETH

I'll put it on.
Send out more horses; skirr the country round;
Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.
How does your patient, doctor?

5.3.43 Doctor

Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.

5.3.46 MACBETH

Cure her of that.
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?

5.3.53 Doctor

Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.

5.3.55 MACBETH

Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff.
Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.
Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast
The water of my land, find her disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
I would applaud thee to the very echo,
That should applaud again. – Pull't off, I say. –
What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug,
Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?

5.3.65 Doctor

Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
Makes us hear something.

5.3.67 MACBETH

Bring it after me.
I will not be afraid of death and bane,
Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.

5.3.70 Doctor

[Aside] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
Profit again should hardly draw me here.

Exeunt

Contents

Act 5

Scene 4

Country near Birnam wood.

Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD and YOUNG SIWARD, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, ROSS, and Soldiers, marching

5.4.1 MALCOLM

Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand
That chambers will be safe.

5.4.3 MENTEITH

We doubt it nothing.

5.4.4 SIWARD

What wood is this before us?

5.4.5 MENTEITH

The wood of Birnam.

5.4.6 MALCOLM

Let every soldier hew him down a bough
And bear't before him: thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our host and make discovery
Err in report of us.

5.4.10 Soldiers

It shall be done.

5.4.11 SIWARD

We learn no other but the confident tyrant
Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
Our setting down before 't.

5.4.14 MALCOLM

'Tis his main hope:
For where there is advantage to be given,
Both more and less have given him the revolt,
And none serve with him but constrained things
Whose hearts are absent too.

5.4.19 MACDUFF

Let our just censures
Attend the true event, and put we on
Industrious soldiership.

5.4.22 SIWARD

The time approaches
That will with due decision make us know
What we shall say we have and what we owe.
Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate,
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:
Towards which advance the war.

Exeunt, marching

Contents

Act 5

Scene 5

Dunsinane. Within the castle.

Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum and colours

5.5.1 MACBETH

Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie
Till famine and the ague eat them up:
Were they not forced with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.

A cry of women within

What is that noise?

5.5.9 SEYTON

It is the cry of women, my good lord.

Exit

5.5.10 MACBETH

I have almost forgot the taste of fears;
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
Cannot once start me.

Re-enter SEYTON

Wherefore was that cry?

5.5.18 SEYTON

The queen, my lord, is dead.

5.5.19 MACBETH

She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Enter a Messenger

Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

5.5.32 Messenger

Gracious my lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.

5.5.35 MACBETH

Well, say, sir.

5.5.36 Messenger

As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The wood began to move.

5.5.39 MACBETH

Liar and slave!

5.5.40 Messenger

Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.

5.5.43 MACBETH

If thou speak'st false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
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 the equivocation of the fiend
That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood
Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
If this which he avouches does appear,
There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
I gin to be aweary of the sun,
And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back.

Exeunt

Contents

Act 5

Scene 6

Dunsinane. Before the castle.

Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF, and their Army, with boughs

5.6.1 MALCOLM

Now near enough: your leafy screens throw down.
And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle,
Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we
Shall take upon 's what else remains to do,
According to our order.

5.6.7 SIWARD

Fare you well.
Do we but find the tyrant's power tonight,
Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.

5.6.10 MACDUFF

Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,
Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.

Exeunt

Contents

Act 5

Scene 7

Another part of the field.

Alarums. Enter MACBETH

5.7.1 MACBETH

They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,
But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What's he
That was not born of woman? Such a one
Am I to fear, or none.

Enter YOUNG SIWARD

5.7.5 YOUNG SIWARD

What is thy name?

5.7.6 MACBETH

Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

5.7.7 YOUNG SIWARD

No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
Than any is in hell.

5.7.9 MACBETH

My name's Macbeth.

5.7.10 YOUNG SIWARD

The devil himself could not pronounce a title
More hateful to mine ear.

5.7.12 MACBETH

No, nor more fearful.

5.7.13 YOUNG SIWARD

Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

They fight and YOUNG SIWARD is slain

5.7.15 MACBETH

Thou wast born of woman
But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.

Exit

Alarums. Enter MACDUFF

5.7.18 MACDUFF

That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face!
If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine,
My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms
Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth,
Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge
I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not.

Exit. Alarums

Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD

5.7.28 SIWARD

This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd:
The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;
The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
The day almost itself professes yours,
And little is to do.

5.7.33 MALCOLM

We have met with foes
That strike beside us.

5.7.35 SIWARD

Enter, sir, the castle.

Exeunt. Alarums

Contents

Act 5

Scene 8

Another part of the field.

Enter MACBETH

5.8.1 MACBETH

Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
Do better upon them.

Enter MACDUFF

5.8.4 MACDUFF

Turn, hell-hound, turn!

5.8.5 MACBETH

Of all men else I have avoided thee:
But get thee back; my soul is too much charged
With blood of thine already.

5.8.8 MACDUFF

I have no words:
My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain
Than terms can give thee out!

They fight

5.8.11 MACBETH

Thou losest labour:
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
I bear a charmed life, which must not yield,
To one of woman born.

5.8.17 MACDUFF

Despair thy charm;
And let the angel whom thou still hast served
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripp'd.

5.8.21 MACBETH

Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
That palter with us in a double sense;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.

5.8.27 MACDUFF

Then yield thee, coward,
And live to be the show and gaze o' the time:
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted on a pole, and underwrit,
'Here may you see the tyrant.'

5.8.32 MACBETH

I will not yield,
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou opposed, being of no woman born,
Yet I will try the last. Before my body
I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,
And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'

Exeunt, fighting. Alarums

Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, SIWARD, ROSS, the other Thanes, and Soldiers

5.8.40 MALCOLM

I would the friends we miss were safe arrived.

5.8.41 SIWARD

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

5.8.43 MALCOLM

Macduff is missing, and your noble son.

5.8.44 ROSS

Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
He only lived but till he was a man;
The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died.

5.8.49 SIWARD

Then he is dead?

5.8.50 ROSS

Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Must not be measured by his worth, for then
It hath no end.

5.8.53 SIWARD

Had he his hurts before?

5.8.54 ROSS

Ay, on the front.

5.8.55 SIWARD

Why then, God's soldier be he!
Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And so, his knell is knoll'd.

5.8.59 MALCOLM

He's worth more sorrow,
And that I'll spend for him.

5.8.61 SIWARD

He's worth no more
They say he parted well, and paid his score:
And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.

Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head

5.8.64 MACDUFF

Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands
The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
That speak my salutation in their minds;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:
Hail, King of Scotland!

5.8.70 ALL

Hail, King of Scotland!

Flourish

5.8.71 MALCOLM

We shall not spend a large expense of time
Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour named. What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,
As calling home our exiled friends abroad
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
Producing forth the cruel ministers
Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life; this, and what needful else
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
We will perform in measure, time and place:
So, thanks to all at once and to each one,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.

Flourish. Exeunt

Contents

THE DUCHESS OF MALFI

by John Webster

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

THE DUCHESS OF MALFI

Act I

Scene I

Scene II

Scene III

Act II

Scene I

Scene II

Scene III

Scene IV

Scene V

Act 3

Scene 3

A park near the palace.

Act 3

Scene 4

The same. An hall in the palace.

Act 3

Scene 5

A heath.

Act 3

Scene 6

Forres. The palace.

Act 4

Scene 1

A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.

Act 4

Scene 2

Fife. Macduff's castle.

Act 4

Scene 3

England. Before the King's palace.

Act 5

Scene 1

Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle.

Act 5

Scene 2

The country near Dunsinane.

Act 5

Scene 3

Dunsinane. A room in the castle.

Act 5

Scene 4

Country near Birnam wood.

Act 5

Scene 5

Dunsinane. Within the castle.

Act 5

Scene 6

Dunsinane. Before the castle.

Act 5

Scene 7

Another part of the field.

Act 5

Scene 8

Another part of the field.

Finis