XPost: soc.culture.scottish, sci.military.naval, soc.culture.irish   
   XPost: soc.culture.australian   
   From: ianinhoose@btinternet.naespam.com   
      
   1606   
      
   THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH   
      
      
   by William Shakespeare   
      
      
      
   Dramatis Personae   
      
     DUNCAN, King of Scotland   
     MACBETH, Thane of Glamis and Cawdor, a general in the King's army   
     LADY MACBETH, his wife   
     MACDUFF, Thane of Fife, a nobleman of Scotland   
     LADY MACDUFF, his wife   
     MALCOLM, elder son of Duncan   
     DONALBAIN, younger son of Duncan   
     BANQUO, Thane of Lochaber, a general in the King's army   
     FLEANCE, his son   
     LENNOX, nobleman of Scotland   
     ROSS, nobleman of Scotland   
     MENTEITH nobleman of Scotland   
     ANGUS, nobleman of Scotland   
     CAITHNESS, nobleman of Scotland   
     SIWARD, Earl of Northumberland, general of the English forces   
     YOUNG SIWARD, his son   
     SEYTON, attendant to Macbeth   
     HECATE, Queen of the Witches   
     The Three Witches   
     Boy, Son of Macduff   
     Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth   
     An English Doctor   
     A Scottish Doctor   
     A Sergeant   
     A Porter   
     An Old Man   
     The Ghost of Banquo and other Apparitions   
     Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murtherers, Attendants,   
        and Messengers   
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
   SCENE: Scotland and England   
      
      
   ACT I. SCENE I.   
   A desert place. Thunder and lightning.   
      
   Enter three Witches.   
      
     FIRST WITCH. When shall we three meet again?   
       In thunder, lightning, or in rain?   
     SECOND WITCH. When the hurlyburly's done,   
       When the battle's lost and won.   
     THIRD WITCH. That will be ere the set of sun.   
     FIRST WITCH. Where the place?   
     SECOND WITCH. Upon the heath.   
     THIRD WITCH. There to meet with Macbeth.   
     FIRST WITCH. I come, Graymalkin.   
     ALL. Paddock calls. Anon!   
       Fair is foul, and foul is fair.   
       Hover through the fog and filthy air.                Exeunt.   
      
      
      
      
   SCENE II.   
   A camp near Forres. Alarum within.   
      
   Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants,   
   meeting a bleeding Sergeant.   
      
     DUNCAN. What bloody man is that? He can report,   
       As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt   
       The newest state.   
     MALCOLM. This is the sergeant   
       Who like a good and hardy soldier fought   
       'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend!   
       Say to the King the knowledge of the broil   
       As thou didst leave it.   
     SERGEANT. Doubtful it stood,   
       As two spent swimmers that do cling together   
       And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald-   
       Worthy to be a rebel, for to that   
       The multiplying villainies of nature   
       Do swarm upon him -from the Western Isles   
       Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied;   
       And Fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,   
       Show'd like a rebel's whore. But all's too weak;   
       For brave Macbeth -well he deserves that name-   
       Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish'd steel,   
       Which smoked with bloody execution,   
       Like Valor's minion carved out his passage   
       Till he faced the slave,   
       Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,   
       Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,   
       And fix'd his head upon our battlements.   
     DUNCAN. O valiant cousin! Worthy gentleman!   
     SERGEANT. As whence the sun 'gins his reflection   
       Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break,   
       So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come   
       Discomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark.   
       No sooner justice had, with valor arm'd,   
       Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels,   
       But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,   
       With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men,   
       Began a fresh assault.   
     DUNCAN. Dismay'd not this   
       Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo.?   
     SERGEANT. Yes,   
       As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.   
       If I say sooth, I must report they were   
       As cannons overcharged with double cracks,   
       So they   
       Doubly redoubled strokes upon 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 help.   
     DUNCAN. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;   
       They smack of honor both. Go get him surgeons.   
                                           Exit Sergeant, attended.   
       Who comes here?   
      
                          Enter Ross.   
      
     MALCOLM The worthy Thane of Ross.   
     LENNOX. What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look   
       That seems to speak things strange.   
     ROSS. God save the King!   
     DUNCAN. Whence camest thou, worthy Thane?   
     ROSS. From Fife, great King,   
       Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky   
       And fan our people cold.   
       Norway himself, with terrible numbers,   
       Assisted by that most disloyal traitor   
       The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict,   
       Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,   
       Confronted him with self-comparisons,   
       Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm,   
       Curbing his lavish spirit; and, to conclude,   
       The victory fell on us.   
     DUNCAN. Great happiness!   
     ROSS. That now   
       Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition;   
       Nor would we deign him burial of his men   
       Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme's Inch,   
       Ten thousand dollars to our general use.   
     DUNCAN. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive   
       Our bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death,   
       And with his former title greet Macbeth.   
     ROSS. I'll see it done.   
     DUNCAN. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won.   
                                                            Exeunt.   
      
      
      
      
   SCENE III.   
   A heath. Thunder.   
      
   Enter the three Witches.   
      
     FIRST WITCH. Where hast thou been, sister?   
     SECOND WITCH. Killing swine.   
     THIRD WITCH. Sister, where thou?   
     FIRST WITCH. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,   
       And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd. "Give me," quoth I.   
       "Aroint thee, witch!" the rump-fed ronyon cries.   
       Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master the Tiger;   
       But in a sieve I'll thither sail,   
       And, like a rat without a tail,   
       I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.   
     SECOND WITCH. I'll give thee a wind.   
     FIRST WITCH. Thou'rt kind.   
     THIRD WITCH. And I another.   
     FIRST WITCH. I myself have all the other,   
       And the very ports they blow,   
       All the quarters that they know   
       I' the shipman's card.   
       I will drain him dry as hay:   
       Sleep shall neither night nor day   
       Hang upon his penthouse lid;   
       He shall live a man forbid.   
       Weary se'nnights nine times nine   
       Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine;   
       Though his bark cannot be lost,   
       Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd.   
       Look what I have.   
     SECOND WITCH. Show me, show me.   
     FIRST WITCH. Here I have a pilot's thumb,   
       Wreck'd as homeward he did come.                Drum within.   
     THIRD WITCH. A drum, a drum!   
       Macbeth doth come.   
     ALL. The weird sisters, hand in hand,   
       Posters of the sea and land,   
       Thus do go about, about,   
       Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,   
       And thrice again, to make up nine.   
       Peace! The charm's wound up.   
      
                    Enter Macbeth and Banquo.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)