FROM MACBETH.

THE MURDER OF DUNCAN, KING OF SCOTLAND. Act II. Scs. i., ii.

[King Duncan is on a visit to Macbeth, thane of Glamis, and lately created thane of Cawdor, at his castle near Inverness. Macbeth has just been informed that the king has retired for the night.]

Enter MACBETH and a Servant.

Macb. Go, bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.

Is this a dagger which I see before me,

[Exit Servant.

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible

To feeling as to sight? or art thou but

A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable

As this which now I draw.

Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going,
And such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still;
And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood,
Which was not so before.-There's no such thing.
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes.-Now o'er the one half world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings; and withered murder,
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,

Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design,
Moves like a ghost.-Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it.-Whiles I threat, he lives:
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.

handle

[A bell rings.

Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell

That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

Enter LADY MACBETH.

[Exit.

Lady M. That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold:

What hath quench'd them hath given me fire :

Hark! Peace! It was the owl that shriek'd,

The fatal bellman which gives the stern'st good-night.

He is about it: the doors are open;

And the surfeited grooms do mock their charge with snores :

I have drugg'd their possets,

That death and nature do contend about them,
Whether they live, or die.

Macb. [Within.] Who's there?—what, ho!

Lady M. Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd, And 'tis not done :-the attempt, and not the deed, Confounds us.-Hark!-I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss them.-Had he not resembled My father as he slept I had done 't—

Enter MACBETH.

My husband!

Macb. I have done the deed.-Didst thou not hear a noise!
Lady M. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.

Lady M.

Donalbain.

Macb. This is a sorry sight. [Looking on his hands.

Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep,

And one cried, 'Murder!' that they did wake each other;
I stood and heard them: but they did say their prayers,
And address'd them again to sleep.

Lady M. There are two lodg'd together.

Macb. One cried, 'God bless us!' and 'Amen,' the other; As they had seen me with these hangman's hands.

Listening their fear, I could not say, ' Amen,'

When they did say, 'God bless us !'

Lady M.

Consider it not so deeply.

Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce, 'Amen?'

I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen'

Stuck in

my throat.

Lady M.

These deeds must not be thought

After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

Macb. Methought, I heard a voice cry, 'Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep,' the innocent sleep;

Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast-

Lady M.

What do you mean?

unwrought silk

Macb. Still it cried, ‘Sleep no more!' to all the house : 'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor

Shall sleep no more-Macbeth shall sleep no more!'

Lady M. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,
You do unbend your noble strength, to think

So brainsickly of things.-Go, get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.—
Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
They must lie there: go, carry them; and smear
The sleepy grooms with blood.

Macb.

I'll go no more:

I am afraid to think what I have done;

Look on 't again I dare not.

Infirm of purpose!

Lady M.
Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead
Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
For it must seem their guilt.

Macb.

[Exit. Knocking within.

Whence is that knocking?

How is 't with me, when every noise appals me ?

What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes!

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood

Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,

Making the green-one red.

Re-enter LADY MACBETH.

Lady M. My hands are of your colour; but I shame To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a knocking At the south entry :-retire we to our chamber:

A little water clears us of this deed :

How easy is it then! Your constancy

Hath left you unattended.―[Knocking.] Hark! more knocking: Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us,

And shew us to be watchers :-be not lost

So poorly in your thoughts.

Macb. To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.

[Knocking.

Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst ! [Exeunt.

FROM JULIUS CÆSAR.

THE QUARREL BETWEEN BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. Act IV. Sc. iii.

SCENE.-Within the tent of BRutus.

Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS.

Cas. That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this:
You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella,

For taking bribes here of the Sardians ;1
Wherein my letters, praying on his side,
Because I knew the man, were slighted off.

Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case.
Cas. In such a time as this it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear his comment.
Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm ;
To sell and mart your offices for gold

You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.

1 The inhabitants of Sardis, the capital of Lydia.

Cas. Chastisement !

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember:
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world
But for supporting robbers, shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honours
For so much trash as may be grasped thus ?—
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

Cas.
Brutus, bay not me ;
I'll not endure it: you forget yourself,
To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself

To make conditions.

Bru.

Cas. I am.

Go to; you are not, Cassius.

Bru. I say you are not.

Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself;

Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further.

Bru. Away, slight man!

Cas. Is't possible?

Bru.

Hear me, for I will speak.

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?

Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ?

Cas. O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this?

Bru. All this? ay, more: fret, till your proud heart break;

Go, shew your slaves how choleric you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you? must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humour? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,

Though it do split you; for, from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

Cas.

Is it come to this?

Bru. You say, you are a better soldier :

Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well: for mine own part,