malcolm awake. shake off this downy sleep death's counterfeit and look on death itself. up, up and see the great doom's image. malcolm, banquo. what's the business that such a hideous trumpet calls to parley the sleepers of the house? speak, speak. o gentle lady, 'tis not for you to hear what i can speak. o banquo, banquo our royal master is murdered. woe, alas. what, in our house? too cruel anywhere. what is amiss? you are and do not know't. your royal father's murdered. o, by whom? those of his chamber as it seemed had done it. their hands and faces were all badged with blood. o, yet i do repent me of my fury that i did kill them. wherefore did you so? who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, loyal and neutral, no man. here lay duncan. his silver skin laced with his golden blood. and his gashed stabs looked like a breach in nature for ruin's wasteful entrance. there, the murderers steeped in the colors of their trade their daggers unmannerly breeched with gore. who could refrain? help me hence. look to the lady. let us meet and question this most bloody piece of work to know it further. let's briefly put on manly readiness in the hall. well contented. what will you do? let's not consort with them. i'll to england. to ireland, i. but let's not be dainty of leave-taking, but shift away. [music] thou hast it now, king cawdor, glamis all as the weird women promised. and i fear thou play'dst most foully for it. yet, it was said it should not stand in thy posterity. but that myself should be the root and father of many kings. if there come truth from them, may they not be my oracle as well, and set me up in hope? but hush no more. here's our chief guest. tonight, we hold a solemn supper, sir. and i'll request your presence. let your highness command upon me. fail not our feast. my lord, i will not. to be thus is nothing, but to be safely thus. our fears in banquo stick deep and in his royalty of nature reigns that which would be feared. there is none, but he whose being i do fear. he chid the sisters and bade them speak to him. then prophet-like, they hailed him father to a line of kings whilst on my head they placed a fruitless crown and put a barren scepter in my gripe, no son of mine succeeding. if it be so, for banquo's issue have i filed my mind. for them, the gracious duncan have i murdered to make them the seed of banquo kings. both of you know banquo was your enemy. true, my lord. so is he mine. we are resolved, my lord. we shall, my lord, perform what you command us. it is concluded. banquo, thy soul's flight, if it find heaven, must find it out tonight. nought's had all's spent where our desire is got without content. how now, my lord why do you keep alone things without all remedy should be without regard. what's done is done. we have scotched the snake not killed it. but let the frame of things disjoint both the worlds suffer. ere we will eat our meal in fear or sleep in the affliction of these terrible dreams that shake us nightly. better be with the dead whom we to gain our peace have sent to peace than on the torture of the mind to lie in restless ecstasy. come on. gentle my lord sleek o'er your rugged looks. be bright and jovial among our guests tonight. ere the bat hath flown his cloister'd flight, there shall be done a deed of dreadful note. what's to be done? be innocent with the knowledge dearest chuck, till thou applaud the deed. night thickens and the crow makes wing to the rooky wood. good things of day begin to droop and drowse, whilst night's black agents to their preys do rouse. thou marvell'st at my words, but hold thee still, things bad begun make strong themselves by ill. it will be rain tonight. let it come down. o, treachery! [music] you know your own degrees, sit down. at first and last the hearty welcome. both sides are even. here i'll sit i' the midst. there's blood upon thy face. 'tis banquo's then. 'tis better thee without than he within. is he dispatch'd? my lord, his throat is cut that i did for him. thou art the best o' the cut-throats. my royal lord, you do not give the cheer. sweet remembrancer! now, good digestion wait on appetite and health on both! your majesty. may't please your highness sit. the table is full. here, my good lord. what is't that moves your highness? which of you have done this? - what, my good lord? - what, my good lord? thou canst not say i did it. never shake thy gory locks at me. gentlemen, rise. his highness is not well. sit, worthy friends. my lord is often thus, and hath been from his youth. pray you, keep seat. he will again be well. are you a man? ay, and a bold one that dares look on that which might appall the devil. o proper stuff! this is the very painting of your fear. why do you make such faces? when all's done, you look but on a stool. prithee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you? what, quite unmann'd in folly? avaunt and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee! thy bones are marrowless thy blood is cold. thou hast no speculation in those eyes which thou dost glare with! this of this, good peers but as a thing of custom. hence, horrible shadow! unreal mockery, hence! you have displaced the mirth broke the good meeting with most admired disorder. my lord. i pray you, speak not. he grows worse and worse. question enrages him. at once, good night. stand not upon the order of your going, but go at once. good night, and better health attend his majesty. a kind good night to all. it will have blood, they say blood will have blood. what is the night? almost at odds with morning, which is which. i will tomorrow to the weird sisters. more shall they speak, for now i am bent to know, by the worst means, the worst. i am in blood stepp'd in so far that should i wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o'er. you lack the season of all natures, sleep. come, we'll to sleep. we are yet but young in deed. double, double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble. fillet of a fenny snake, in the cauldron boil and bake. finger of birth-strangled babe ditch-deliver'd by a drab, make the gruel thick and slab. cool it with the baboon's blood, then the charm is firm and good. by the pricking of my thumbs something wicked this way comes. how now, you secret, black and midnight hags! what is't you do? a deed without a name. i conjure you, by that which you profess, howe'er you come to know it, answer me. speak. demand. we'll answer. tell me, thou unknown power-- macbeth! macbeth! macbeth! beware macduff. beware of thane of fife. dismiss me. enough. thou hast harp'd my fear aright, but one word more-- he will not be commanded. be bloody, bold, and resolute, laugh to scorn the power of man, for none of woman born shall harm macbeth. then live, macduff. what need i fear of thee? but yet i'll make assurance double sure, and take a bond of fate, thou shalt not live. macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until great birnam wood to high dunsinane hill shall come against him. that will never be. macbeth shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath to time and mortal custom. yet my heart throbs to know one thing. tell me, if your art can tell so much shall banquo's issue ever reign in this kingdom? seek to know no more. infected be the air whereon they ride, and damn'd all those that trust them! ho approach. i did hear the galloping of horses, who was't came by? there are two or three, my lord, sent to give the word. macduff is fled to england. fled to england. ay, my good lord. time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits. the castle of macduff i will surprise. seize upon fife. give to the edge o' the sword his wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls who trace him in his line. no boasting like a fool. this deed i'll do o'er this purpose cool. my children too? wife, children, servants. my wife kill'd too? i have said. front to front bring thou this fiend of scotland and myself within my sword's length set him. if he 'scape heaven forgive him too. come to the english king our power is ready. our lack is nothing but our leave. macbeth is ripe for shaking. in this slumbery agitation what, at any time, did you hear her say? that, sir, which i would not report after her. this is her very guise. and upon my life, fast asleep. how came she by that light? it stood by her. it stands by her continually 'tis her command. out, damned spot. out, i say. one, two, why then 'tis time to do't-- hell is murky-- fie, my lord, fie, a soldier, and afeard? 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? do you mark that? 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. go to, go to--you have known what you should not. here's the smell of the blood still. all the perfumes of arabia will not sweeten this little hand. oh, oh, oh. this disease is beyond my practice. wash your hands. put on your nightgown. look not so pale. i tell you yet again banquo's buried. he cannot come out on his grave. even so. 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, to bed to bed, to bed. god, god forgive us all. the devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon. what soldiers, patch? the english force, so please you. take thy face hence. i have lived long enough. my way of life is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf. and that which should accompany old age as honor, love obedience, troops of friends i must not look to have. but in their place curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath. how does your patient, doctor? not so sick, my lord as she is troubled with thick coming fancies that keep her from her rest. cure her of that. canst thou not minister to a mind diseased pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart? therein the patient must minister to himself. throw physic to the dogs. i'll none of it. come, put mine armor on. give me my staff. i will not be afraid of death and bane till birnam forest come to dunsinane. [music] what wood is this before us? the wood of birnam. let every soldier hew him down a bough and bear it before him thereby shall we shadow the numbers of our host. the confident tyrant keeps still in dunsinane. 'tis his main hope. and none serve with him but constrained things whose hearts are absent too. advance the war. our castle's strength will laugh a siege to scorn. wherefore was that cry? the queen, my lord, is dead. she should have died hereafter. there would have been a time for such a word. tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow. creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time. and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. out, out, brief candle. life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing. thou comest to use thy tongue thy story quickly. as i did stand my watch upon the hill, i looked toward birnam and anon, methought, the wood began to move. liar and slave. within this three mile may you see it coming, i say a moving grove. if thou speaks false upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive. i pull in resolution and begin to doubt the equivocation of the fiend that lies like truth. fear not, till the birnam wood do come to dunsinane and now, a wood comes towards dunsinane. arm, arm, and out. ring the alarum-bell. blow, wind, come, wrack. at least we'll die with harness on our back. now near enough. your leafy screens throw down and show like those you are. they have tied me to a stake i cannot fly but bear-like, i must fight the course. what's he that was not born of woman? such a one am i to fear or none. turn, hell-hound, turn. of all men else i have avoided thee. but get thee back, my soul is too much charged with blood of thine already. i have no words. my voice is in my sword thou bloodier villain than terms can give thee out. thou losest labour. let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests. i bear a charmed life that must not yield to one of woman born. despair thy charm and let the angel whom thou still hast served tell thee. macduff was from his mother's womb untimely ripped. accursed should be that tongue that tells me so. i will not fight with thee. then yield thee, coward. i will not yield. to kiss the ground before young malcolm's feet and to be baited with the rabble's curse. though birnam wood to come to dunsinane and thou opposed, being of no woman born yet i will try the last. lay on, macduff. and damned be him that first cries hold enough. shakespeare has furnished our speech with so many quotable lines and phrases, most of them so familiar that we have forgotten their source. in fact, someone once said of a shakespearean play that the trouble was it was so full of quotations. therefore, when we read or see a shakespeare play and encounter some of these old friends tucked into the lines here and there we almost unthinkingly respond "ah, that's a quotation," forgetting who it was that said it first. such moments of recognition we experience while listening to macbeth. for example, the witches query "when shall we three meet again?" and their, "double, double toil and trouble," and, "fair is foul and foul is fair," or the phrase, "the milk of human kindness" in lady macbeth's speech and her unforgettable "ou