The Tragedie of Macbeth Page 01
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.
1. When shall we three meet againe? In Thunder, Lightning, or in Raine? 2. When the Hurley-burley's done, When the Battaile's lost, and wonne
3. That will be ere the set of Sunne
1. Where the place? 2. Vpon the Heath
3. There to meet with Macbeth
1. I come, Gray-Malkin
All. Padock calls anon: faire is foule, and foule is faire, Houer through the fogge and filthie ayre.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Alarum within. Enter King Malcome, Donalbaine, Lenox, with attendants, meeting a bleeding Captaine.
King. What bloody man is that? he can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the Reuolt The newest state
Mal. This is the Serieant, Who like a good and hardie Souldier fought 'Gainst my Captiuitie: Haile braue friend; Say to the King, the knowledge of the Broyle, As thou didst leaue it
Cap. Doubtfull it stood, As two spent Swimmers, that doe cling together, And choake their Art: The mercilesse Macdonwald (Worthie to be a Rebell, for to that The multiplying Villanies of Nature Doe swarme vpon him) from the Westerne Isles Of Kernes and Gallowgrosses is supply'd, And Fortune on his damned Quarry smiling, Shew'd like a Rebells Whore: but all's too weake: For braue Macbeth (well hee deserues that Name) Disdayning Fortune, with his brandisht Steele, Which smoak'd with bloody execution (Like Valours Minion) caru'd out his passage, Till hee fac'd the Slaue: Which neu'r shooke hands, nor bad farwell to him, Till he vnseam'd him from the Naue toth' Chops, And fix'd his Head vpon our Battlements
King. O valiant Cousin, worthy Gentleman
Cap. As whence the Sunne 'gins his reflection, Shipwracking Stormes, and direfull Thunders: So from that Spring, whence comfort seem'd to come, Discomfort swells: Marke King of Scotland, marke, No sooner Iustice had, with Valour arm'd, Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heeles, But the Norweyan Lord, surueying vantage, With furbusht Armes, and new supplyes of men, Began a fresh assault
King. Dismay'd not this our Captaines, Macbeth and Banquoh? Cap. Yes, as Sparrowes, Eagles; Or the Hare, the Lyon: If I say sooth, I must report they were As Cannons ouer-charg'd with double Cracks, So they doubly redoubled stroakes vpon the Foe: Except they meant to bathe in reeking Wounds, Or memorize another Golgotha, I cannot tell: but I am faint, My Gashes cry for helpe
King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds, They smack of Honor both: Goe get him Surgeons. Enter Rosse and Angus.
Who comes here? Mal. The worthy Thane of Rosse
Lenox. What a haste lookes through his eyes? So should he looke, that seemes to speake things strange
Rosse. God saue the King
King. Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane? Rosse. From Fiffe, great King, Where the Norweyan Banners flowt the Skie, And fanne our people cold. Norway himselfe, with terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyall Traytor, The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismall Conflict, Till that Bellona's Bridegroome, lapt in proofe, Confronted him with selfe-comparisons, Point against Point, rebellious Arme 'gainst Arme, Curbing his lauish spirit: and to conclude, The Victorie fell on vs
King. Great happinesse
Rosse. That now Sweno, the Norwayes King, Craues composition: Nor would we deigne him buriall of his men, Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes ynch, Ten thousand Dollars, to our generall vse