By his loved manfionry that heaven's breath
Smells wooingly here. No jutting frieze,
Buttrice, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird
Hath made his pendant bed, and procreant cradle :
Where they most breed and haunt, I have obferved,
The air is delicate.

Enter Lady.

King. See, fee! our honour'd Hoftefs.!

The love that follows us, fometimes is our trouble, Which ftill we thank as love. Herein I teach you How you should bid gold-eyld us for our pains, And thank us for our trouble.

Lady. All our service

(In every point twice done, and then done double,) Were poor and fingle bufinefs to contend

Against thofe honours deep and broad, wherewith Your Majefty loads our house.

For thofe of old,

And the late dignities heaped up to them,

We reft your hermits.

King. Where's the Thane of Cawdor?

We cours'd him at the heels, and had a purpose To be his purveyor: but he rides well,

[him

And his great love, (fharp as his fpur,) hath holp
To's home before us. Fair and noble hostess,
We are your guest to-night.

Lady. Your fervants ever

Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in compt, To make their audit at your Highness' pleasure, Still to return your own.

King. Give me your hand;

Conduct me to mine Hoft, we love him highly;
And fhall continue our graces towards him.
By your leave, Hoftefe.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, changes to an Apartment in Macbeth's

Caftle.

Hautboys, Torches. Enter divers Servants with dishes and fervice over the Stage. Then MACBETH.

'Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well

It were done quickly: if the affaffination
Could trammel up the confequence, and catch
With its furcease, success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all-here, (13)
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
We'd jump the life to come.-But, in these cafes,
We ftill have judgment here, that we but teach
Bloody inftructions; which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor. Even-handed justice
Returns the ingredients of our poifoned chalice
To our own lips. He's here in double trust:
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed: then, as his hoft,
Who thould against his murderer shut the door,
Not bear the knife myself. Befides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties fo meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead, like angels, trumpet-tongued against
The deep damnation of his taking off:
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,

(13) But here, upon this bank and school of time,]

Bank and f hoo!What a monftrous couplement, as Don Armado fays, is here of heterogeneous ideas! I have ventured to amend, which reftores a confonance of images, -on this bank and shoal of time.

i. e. this fhallow, this narrow ford of human life, opposed to the great abyfs of eternity. This word has occurred again, before, to us in the life of King Henry VIII.

And founded all the depths and foals of honour.

Striding the blaft, or heaven's cherubin horfed (14)
Upon the fightlefs courfers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye;

That tears fhall drown the wind.-1 have no fpur
To prick the fides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other-

Enter Lady MACBETH.

How now? what news?

Lady. He's almoft fupped; why have you left

Macb. Hath he afked for me?

Lady. Know you not he has?

[the chamber?

Mach. We will proceed no further in this business. He hath honoured me of late; and I have bought. Golden opinions from all fort of people,

Which would be worn now in their newest glofs, Not caft afide fo foon.

Lady. Was the hope drunk

Wherein you drefs'd yourself? hath it flept fince?
And wakes it now, to look fo green

and pale
At what it did fo freely? from this time,
Such I account thy love. Art thou afraid.
To be the fame in thine own act and valour,
As thou art in defire? wouldst thou have that
Which thou esteemeft the ornament of life,
And live a coward in thine own efteem?
Letting I dare not wait upon I would,
Like the poor cat i' the Adage.
Macb. Pr'ythee, peace:

I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more, is none.

(14) or heaven's cherubin horsed upon the fightless couriers of the air, But the cherubim is the courier; fo that he can't be faid to be horfed upon another courier. We must read, therefore, courjers. Mr Warburton.

Lady. What beast was't then

That made you break this enterprise to me?
When you durft do it, then you were a man;
And (to be more than what you were) you would
Be fo much more the man. Nor time, nor place
Did then cohere, and yet you would make both:.
They've made themselves; and that their fitness now
Does unmake you. I have given fuck, and know
How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me----
I would, while it was fmiling in my face,
Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dafh'd the brains out, had I but fo fworn
As you have done to this. -

Macb. If we fhould fail?

Lady. We fail!

But fcrew your courage to the flicking place,

And we'll not fail.

When Duncan is afleep,

(Whereto the rather fhall his day's hard journey
Soundly invite him) his two chamberlains
Will I with wine and waffal fo convince,
That memory (the warder of the brain)
Shall be a fume; and the receipt of reafon
A limbec only; when in fwinifh fleep
Their drenched natures ly as in a death,
What cannot you and I perform upon
The unguarded Duncan ? what not put upon
His fpungy officers, who fhall bear the guilt
Of our great quell?

Macb. Bring forth men-children only!
For thy undaunted metal fhould compofe
Nothing but males. Will it not be received,
When we have marked with blood thofe fleepy two
Of his own chamber, and used their very daggers; -
That they have done't?

Lady. Who dares receive it other,

As we fhall make our griefs and clamour roar
Upon his death ?

Macb. I'm fettled, and bend up

Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
Falfe face mufst hide what the falfe heart doth know.

[Exeunt.

ACT

II.

SCENE, A Hall in Macbeth's Caftle.

Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE, with a Torch before

him.

BANQUO.

HOW goes the night, boy?

Fle. The moon is down: I have not heard Ban. And fhe goes down at twelve. [the clock. Fle. I take't, 'tis later, Sir.

Ban. Hold, take my fword. There's husbandry
in heaven,

Their candles are all out.-Take thee that too.
A heavy fummons lyes like lead upon me,
And yet I would not fleep: Merciful powers!
Restrain in me the curfed thoughts that nature
Gives way to in repofe.

Enter MACBETH and a Servant with a torch.
Give me my fword: who's there?

Mach. A friend.

Ban. What, Sir, not yet at reft? the King's a-bed. He hath to-night been in unusual pleasure, And fent great largefs to your officers; This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the naine of most kind hoftefs, and shut up In meafureless content.