To this dead man than you shall see me pay.
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.
Come therefore, and to Thassos send his body:
His funerals shall not be in our camp,
Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come;
And come, young Cato; let us to the field.
Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on:
'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night
We shall try fortune in a second fight. Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Another Part of the Field. Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both Armies; then BRUTUS, CATO, LUCILIUS, and Others. Bru. Yet, countrymen, O! yet hold up your heads.

Cato. What bastard doth not? Who will go with me?

I will proclaim my name about the field:
I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!

A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend;
I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!

Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus.

Exit.

It is more worthy to leap in ourselves
Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,
Thou know'st that we two went to school
together;

Even for that our love of old, I prithee,
Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.

Alarum still

Cli. Fly, fly, my lord! there is no tarrying here. Bru. Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius.

Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;

My heart doth joy that yet in all my life

I found no man but he was true to me.

I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord.
Thou art a fellow of a good respect;

Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it:
Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato!
Stra. Give me your hand first: fare you well.
my lord.

Bru. Farewell, good Strato. Cæsar, now be

Dun. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive

Our bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death,

And with his former title greet Macbeth.
Ross. I'll see it done.

Dun. What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath
Excunt.

won.

SCENE III.-A Heath.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

First Witch. Where hast thou been, sister? Second Witch. Killing swine.

Third Witch. Sister, where thou?

First Witch. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,

And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd: 'Give me,' quoth I:

'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries. Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:

But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
And, like a rat without a tail,
I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.

Second Witch. I'll give thee a wind.
First Witch. Thou 'rt kind.

Third Witch. And I another.

First Witch. I myself have all the other;
And the very ports they blow,
All the quarters that they know
I' the shipman's card.

I will drain him dry as hay:
Sleep shall neither night nor day
Hang upon his pent-house lid;
He shall live a man forbid.
Weary se'nnights nine times nine
Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
Look what I have.

Second Witch. Show me, show me.
First Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb,
Wreck'd as homeward he did come.

Third Witch. A drum! a drum! Macbeth doth come.

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Drum within.

All. The weird sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land,
Thus do go about, about:
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again, to make up nine.
Peace! the charm's wound up.

Enter MACBETH and BANQUO.
Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Bun. How far is 't call'd to Forres! What
are these,

So wither'd and so wild in their attire,
That look not like th' inhabitants o' the earth.
And yet are on 't? Live you? or are you aught
That man may question? You seem to under
stand me,

By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.

Mach.

Speak, if you can: what are you' First Witch. All hail. Macbeth! hail to thee. Thane of Glamis !

My liege, They are not yet come back; but I have spoke With one that saw him die; who did report That very frankly he confess'd his treasons, Implor'd your highness' pardon and set forth A deep repentance. Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd As 'twere a careless trifle.

Dun.

There's no art To find the mind's construction in the face: He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust.

Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, Ross, and ANGUS. O worthiest cousin!

10

The sin of my ingratitude even now
Was heavy on me. Thou art so far before
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
To overtake thee; would thou hadst less

deserv'd,

That the proportion both of thanks and pay

[ACT L

SCENE V.-Inverness, MACBETH'S Castle.

Enter Lady MACBETH, reading a letter.

They met me in the day of success; and I have learned by the perfectest report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made thes selves air, into which they vanished. While 1 stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who all-hailed me Thane of Cawdor'; by which title, before, these weird sisters saluted and referred me to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king that shalt be! This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou mightest not lose the dues of rejote ing, by being ignorant of what greatness is pro mised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell, Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promis'd. Yet do I fear thy

21

nature;

It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way; thou would'st be

Are to your throne and state, children and servants;

Which do but what they should, by doing every thing

great,

Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it; what thou would's highly,

false,

That would'st thou holily; would'st not play

Safe toward your love and honour.

Dun.

Welcome hither:

And yet would'st wrongly win; thou 'dst have,

I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
That hast no less deserv'd, nor must be known

great Glamis,

That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou

have it';

No less to have done so, let me infold thee

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And hold thee to my heart.

Ban.

The harvest is your own. Dun.

My plenteous joys,

Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know We will establish our estate upon

Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must Not unaccompanied invest him only,

40

But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine On all deservers. From hence to Inverness,

And bind us further to you.

And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee

That I may pour my spirits in thine ear, And chastise with the valour of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal.