Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Mal. 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. I HAVE two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked ? Gent. 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 it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. Doc. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching.-In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say? Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her. Doc. You may, to me; and 'tis most meet you should. Gent. Neither to you, nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech. Lo Enter Lady MACBETH, with a taper. you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. Doc. How came she by that light? [9] See St. John's Revelation, ch. xiv. v. 15. HARRIS. Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually; 'tis her command. Doc. You see, her eyes are open. Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. Doc. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands. Gent. 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. Lady M. Yet here's a spot. Doc. Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say !-One ; Two; Why, then 'tis time to do't:-Hell is murky!-Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier, and afear'd? 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? Doc. Do you mark that? Lady M. 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. Doc. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not. Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that Heaven knows what she has known. : Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh! Doc. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged. Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body. Doc. Well, well, well,- [1] Lady Macbeth is acting over, in a dream, the business of the murder of Duncan, and encouraging her husband, as when awake. She therefore would not have even hinted the terrors of hell to one whose conscience she saw was too much alarmed already for her purpose. She certainly imagines herself here talking to Macbeth, who (she supposes) had just said Hell is murky, (i. e. hell is a disinal place to go to in consequence of such a deed) and repeats his words in contempt of his cowardice, Hell is murky!--Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier, and afear'd? This explanation, I think, gives a spirit to the passage, which has hitherto appeared languid, being, perhaps, misapprehended by those who placed a full poist at the conclusion of it. STEEVENS. Doc. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds. Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night-gown; look not so pale :-I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave. Doc. Even so ? Lady M. 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. Doc. Will she go now to bed? Gent. Directly. Doc. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural deeds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. Gent. Good night, good doctor. SCENE II. [Exeunt. The country near Dunsinane. Enter with Drum and Colours, MENTETH, CATHNESS, ANGUS, LENOX, and Soldiers. Ment. 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, Ang. Near Birnam wood Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. Ment. What does the tyrant? [2] Astonished, confounded. JOHNSON. [3] By the mortified man, is meant a religious; one who has subdued his passions, is dead to the world, has abandoned it, and all the affairs of it: an Ascetic. WARBURTON. Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies : He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Ang. Now does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands; Ment. Who then shall blame His pester'd senses to recoil, and start, Cath. Well, march we on, To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd: Meet we the medecin of the sickly weal; And with him pour we, in our country's purge, Len. Or so much as it needs, To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds. SCENE III. [Exe. marching. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants. Macb. 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 ? [4] That is, when all the faculties of the mind are employed in self-condemnation. JOHNSON. [5] i. e physician. Shakespeare uses this word in the feminine gender, where Lafeu speaks of Helen in All's well that ends well; and Florizel, in The Winter's Tale, calls Camillo "the medecin of our house." STEEVENS. [6] Shakespeare took the thought from Holinshed, p. 179 and 180, of his History of Scotland: -For manie of the people abhorring the riotous manners and superstitious gormandizing brought in among them by the Englyshemen, were The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, Shall never sagg7 with doubt, nor shake with fear. Enter a Servant. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon! Ser. There is ten thousand Macb. Geese, villain? Ser. Soldiers, sir. Macb. 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 at heart, -I am sick When I behold-Seyton, I say!This push 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, but dare not.— Seyton! Enter SEYTON. Sey. What is your gracious pleasure? Macb. What news more? Sey. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported. Macb. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hack'd. Give me my armour. Sey. 'Tis not needed yet. willing enough to receive this Donald for their king, trusting (because he had beene brought up in the Isles with the old customes and manners of their antient nations, without taste of English likerous delicates,) they should by his seuere order in gouernement recouer againe the former temperance of their old progenitors." The same historian informs us, that in those ages the Scots eat but once a day, and even then very sparingly. It appears from Dr Johnson's Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, that the natives had neither kail nor brogues, till they were taught the art of planting the one, and making the other, by the soldiers of Cromwell. STEEVENS. [7] To sag, or swag, is to sink down by its own weight, or by an overload. It is common in Staffordshire to say, "a beam in a building sags, or bas sagged " TOLLET. [8] The meaning is, they infect others who see them, with cowardice. WARBURTON. |