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Macbeth (Including The Biography of the Infamous Author). William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.

Macbeth (Including The Biography of the Infamous Author) - William Shakespeare


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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.

       [Witches vanish.]

       SCENE II. A Camp near Forres.

       [Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Soldier.]

       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.

       SOLDIER.

       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 smok’d with bloody execution,

       Like valor’s minion,

       Carv’d out his passag tTill he fac’d the slave;

       And 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!

       SOLDIER.

       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?

       SOLDIER.

       Yes;

       As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.

       If I say sooth, I must report they were

       As cannons overcharg’d 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 Soldier, attended.]

       Who comes here?

       MALCOLM.

       The worthy Thane of Ross.

       LENNOX.

       What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look

       That seems to speak things strange.

       [Enter Ross.]

       ROSS.

       God save the King!

       DUNCAN.

       Whence cam’st 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 o’ 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.

      


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