The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: nn1r - Tragedies, p. 145

Left Column


The Tragedie of Macbeth. Macb. Saw you the Weyard Sisters? Lenox. No my Lord. Macb. Came they not by you? Lenox.
[1595]
No indeed my Lord.
Macb. Infected be the Ayre whereon they ride, And damn'd all those that trust them. I did heare The gallopping of Horse. Who was't came by? Len. 'Tis two or three my Lord, that bring you word:
[1600]
Macduff is fled to England.
Macb. Fled to England? Len. I, my good Lord. Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits: The flighty purpose neuer is o're‑tooke
[1605]
Vnlesse the deed go with it. From this moment, The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And euen now To Crown my thoughts with Acts: be it thoght & done: The Castle of Macduff, I will surprize,
[1610]
Seize vpon Fife; giue to th'edge o'th'Sword His Wife, his Babes, and all vnfortunate Soules That trace him in his Line. No boasting like a Foole, This deed Ile do, before this purpose coole, But no more sights. Where are these Gentlemen?
[1615]
Come bring me where they are.
Exeunt
Scena Secunda. [Act 4, Scene 2] Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Rosse. Wife. What had he done, to make him fly the Land? Rosse. You must haue patience Madam. Wife. He had none: His flight was madnesse: when our Actions do not,
[1620]
Our feares do make vs Traitors.
Rosse. You know not Whether it was his wisedome, or his feare. Wife. Wisedom? to leaue his wife, to leaue his Babes, His Mansion, and his Titles, in a place
[1625]
From whence himselfe do's flye? He loues vs not, He wants the naturall touch. For the poore Wren (The most diminitiue of Birds) will fight, Her yong ones in her Nest, against the Owle: All is the Feare, and nothing is the Loue;
[1630]
As little is the Wisedome, where the flight So runnes against all reason.
Rosse. My deerest Cooz, I pray you schoole your selfe. But for your Husband, He is Noble, Wise, Iudicious, and best knowes
[1635]
The fits o'th'Season. I dare not speake much further, But cruell are the times, when we are Traitors And do not know our selues: when we hold Rumor From what we feare, yet know not what we feare, But floate vpon a wilde and violent Sea
[1640]
Each way, and moue. I take my leaue of you: Shall not be long but Ile be heere againe: Things at the worst will cease, or else climbe vpward, To what they were before. My pretty Cosine, Blessing vpon you.
Wife.
[1645]
Father'd he is, And yet hee's Father‑lesse.
Rosse. I am so much a Foole, should I stay longer It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort. I take my leaue at once. Exit Rosse.

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Right Column


Wife.
[1650]
Sirra, your Fathers dead, And what will you do now? How will you liue ?
Son. As Birds do Mother. Wife. What with Wormes, and Flyes? Son. With what I get I meane, and so do they. Wife.
[1655]
Poore Bird, Thou'dst neuer Feare the Net, nor Lime, The Pitfall, nor the Gin.
Son. Why should I Mother? Poore Birds they are not set for:
[1660]
My Father is not dead for all your saying.
Wife. Yes, he is dead: How wilt thou do for a Father? Son. Nay how will you do for a Husband? Wife. Why I can buy me twenty at any Market. Son.
[1665]
Then you'l by 'em to sell againe.
Wife. Thou speak'st withall thy wit, And yet I'faith with wit enough for thee. Son. Was my Father a Traitor, Mother? Wife. I, that he was. Son.
[1670]
What is a Traitor?
Wife. Why one that sweares, and lyes. Son. And be all Traitors, that do so. Wife. Euery one that do's so, is a Traitor, And must be hang'd. Son.
[1675]
And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lye?
Wife. Euery one. Son. Who must hang them? Wife. Why, the honest men. Son.

Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there

[1680]

are Lyars and Swearers enow, to beate the honest men,

and hang vp them.

Wife. Now God helpe thee, poore Monkie: But how wilt thou do for a Father? Son.

If he were dead, youl'd weepe for him: if you

[1685]

would not, it were a good signe, that I should quickely

haue a new Father.

Wife. Poore pratler, how thou talk'st? Enter a Messenger. Mes. Blesse you faire Dame: I am not to you known, Though in your state of Honor I am perfect;
[1690]
I doubt some danger do's approach you neerely. If you will take a homely mans aduice, Be not found heere: Hence with your little ones To fright you thus. Me thinkes I am too sauage: To do worse to you, were fell Cruelty,
[1695]
Which is too nie your person. Heauen preserue you, I dare abide no longer.
Exit Messenger Wife. Whether should I flye? I haue done no harme. But I remember now I am in this earthly world: where to do harme
[1700]
Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly. Why then (alas) Do I put vp that womanly defence, To say I haue done no harme? What are these faces?
Enter Murtherers. Mur.
[1705]
Where is your Husband?
Wife. I hope in no place so vnsanctified, Where such as thou may'st finde him. Mur. He's a Traitor. Son. Thou ly'st thou shagge‑ear'd Villaine. Mur.
[1710]
What you Egge? Yong fry of Treachery ?
Son. He ha's kill'd me Mother, Run away I pray you. Exit crying Murther. Nn Scena

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Scena Secunda. [Act 4, Scene 2] Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Rosse. Wife. What had he done, to make him fly the Land? Rosse. You must haue patience Madam. Wife. He had none: His flight was madnesse: when our Actions do not,
[1620]
Our feares do make vs Traitors.
Rosse. You know not Whether it was his wisedome, or his feare. Wife. Wisedom? to leaue his wife, to leaue his Babes, His Mansion, and his Titles, in a place
[1625]
From whence himselfe do's flye? He loues vs not, He wants the naturall touch. For the poore Wren (The most diminitiue of Birds) will fight, Her yong ones in her Nest, against the Owle: All is the Feare, and nothing is the Loue;
[1630]
As little is the Wisedome, where the flight So runnes against all reason.
Rosse. My deerest Cooz, I pray you schoole your selfe. But for your Husband, He is Noble, Wise, Iudicious, and best knowes
[1635]
The fits o'th'Season. I dare not speake much further, But cruell are the times, when we are Traitors And do not know our selues: when we hold Rumor From what we feare, yet know not what we feare, But floate vpon a wilde and violent Sea
[1640]
Each way, and moue. I take my leaue of you: Shall not be long but Ile be heere againe: Things at the worst will cease, or else climbe vpward, To what they were before. My pretty Cosine, Blessing vpon you.
Wife.
[1645]
Father'd he is, And yet hee's Father‑lesse.
Rosse. I am so much a Foole, should I stay longer It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort. I take my leaue at once. Exit Rosse. Wife.
[1650]
Sirra, your Fathers dead, And what will you do now? How will you liue ?
Son. As Birds do Mother. Wife. What with Wormes, and Flyes? Son. With what I get I meane, and so do they. Wife.
[1655]
Poore Bird, Thou'dst neuer Feare the Net, nor Lime, The Pitfall, nor the Gin.
Son. Why should I Mother? Poore Birds they are not set for:
[1660]
My Father is not dead for all your saying.
Wife. Yes, he is dead: How wilt thou do for a Father? Son. Nay how will you do for a Husband? Wife. Why I can buy me twenty at any Market. Son.
[1665]
Then you'l by 'em to sell againe.
Wife. Thou speak'st withall thy wit, And yet I'faith with wit enough for thee. Son. Was my Father a Traitor, Mother? Wife. I, that he was. Son.
[1670]
What is a Traitor?
Wife. Why one that sweares, and lyes. Son. And be all Traitors, that do so. Wife. Euery one that do's so, is a Traitor, And must be hang'd. Son.
[1675]
And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lye?
Wife. Euery one. Son. Who must hang them? Wife. Why, the honest men. Son.

Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there

[1680]

are Lyars and Swearers enow, to beate the honest men,

and hang vp them.

Wife. Now God helpe thee, poore Monkie: But how wilt thou do for a Father? Son.

If he were dead, youl'd weepe for him: if you

[1685]

would not, it were a good signe, that I should quickely

haue a new Father.

Wife. Poore pratler, how thou talk'st? Enter a Messenger. Mes. Blesse you faire Dame: I am not to you known, Though in your state of Honor I am perfect;
[1690]
I doubt some danger do's approach you neerely. If you will take a homely mans aduice, Be not found heere: Hence with your little ones To fright you thus. Me thinkes I am too sauage: To do worse to you, were fell Cruelty,
[1695]
Which is too nie your person. Heauen preserue you, I dare abide no longer.
Exit Messenger Wife. Whether should I flye? I haue done no harme. But I remember now I am in this earthly world: where to do harme
[1700]
Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly. Why then (alas) Do I put vp that womanly defence, To say I haue done no harme? What are these faces?
Enter Murtherers. Mur.
[1705]
Where is your Husband?
Wife. I hope in no place so vnsanctified, Where such as thou may'st finde him. Mur. He's a Traitor. Son. Thou ly'st thou shagge‑ear'd Villaine. Mur.
[1710]
What you Egge? Yong fry of Treachery ?
Son. He ha's kill'd me Mother, Run away I pray you. Exit crying Murther.
 

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="2">
   <head rend="italic center">Scena Secunda.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 4, Scene 2]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Rosse.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1616">What had he done, to make him fly the Land?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rosse.</speaker>
      <l n="1617">You must haue patience Madam.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1618">He had none:</l>
      <l n="1619">His flight was madnesse: when our Actions do not,</l>
      <l n="1620">Our feares do make vs Traitors.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rosse.</speaker>
      <l n="1621">You know not</l>
      <l n="1622">Whether it was his wisedome, or his feare.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1623">Wisedom? to leaue his wife, to leaue his Babes,</l>
      <l n="1624">His Mansion, and his Titles, in a place</l>
      <l n="1625">From whence himselfe do's flye? He loues vs not,</l>
      <l n="1626">He wants the naturall touch. For the poore Wren</l>
      <l n="1627">(The most diminitiue of Birds) will fight,</l>
      <l n="1628">Her yong ones in her Nest, against the Owle:</l>
      <l n="1629">All is the Feare, and nothing is the Loue;</l>
      <l n="1630">As little is the Wisedome, where the flight</l>
      <l n="1631">So runnes against all reason.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rosse.</speaker>
      <l n="1632">My deerest Cooz,</l>
      <l n="1633">I pray you schoole your selfe. But for your Husband,</l>
      <l n="1634">He is Noble, Wise, Iudicious, and best knowes</l>
      <l n="1635">The fits o'th'Season. I dare not speake much further,</l>
      <l n="1636">But cruell are the times, when we are Traitors</l>
      <l n="1637">And do not know our selues: when we hold Rumor</l>
      <l n="1638">From what we feare, yet know not what we feare,</l>
      <l n="1639">But floate vpon a wilde and violent Sea</l>
      <l n="1640">Each way, and moue. I take my leaue of you:</l>
      <l n="1641">Shall not be long but Ile be heere againe:</l>
      <l n="1642">Things at the worst will cease, or else climbe vpward,</l>
      <l n="1643">To what they were before. My pretty Cosine,</l>
      <l n="1644">Blessing vpon you.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1645">Father'd he is,</l>
      <l n="1646">And yet hee's Father‑lesse.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rosse.</speaker>
      <l n="1647">I am so much a Foole, should I stay longer</l>
      <l n="1648">It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort.</l>
      <l n="1649">I take my leaue at once.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit Rosse.</stage>
   <cb n="2"/>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1650">Sirra, your Fathers dead,</l>
      <l n="1651">And what will you do now? How will you liue<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1652">As Birds do Mother.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1653">What with Wormes, and Flyes?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1654">With what I get I meane, and so do they.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1655">Poore Bird,</l>
      <l n="1656">Thou'dst neuer Feare the Net, nor Lime,</l>
      <l n="1657">The Pitfall, nor the Gin.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1658">Why should I Mother?</l>
      <l n="1659">Poore Birds they are not set for:</l>
      <l n="1660">My Father is not dead for all your saying.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1661">Yes, he is dead:</l>
      <l n="1662">How wilt thou do for a Father?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1663">Nay how will you do for a Husband?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1664">Why I can buy me twenty at any Market.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1665">Then you'l by 'em to sell againe.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1666">Thou speak'st withall thy wit,</l>
      <l n="1667">And yet I'faith with wit enough for thee.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1668">Was my Father a Traitor, Mother?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1669">I, that he was.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1670">What is a Traitor?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1671">Why one that sweares, and lyes.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1672">And be all Traitors, that do so.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1673">Euery one that do's so, is a Traitor,</l>
      <l n="1674">And must be hang'd.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1675">And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lye?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1676">Euery one.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1677">Who must hang them?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1678">Why, the honest men.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <p n="1679">Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there
      <lb n="1680"/>are Lyars and Swearers enow, to beate the honest men,
      <lb n="1681"/>and hang vp them.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1682">Now God helpe thee, poore Monkie:</l>
      <l n="1683">But how wilt thou do for a Father?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <p n="1684">If he were dead, youl'd weepe for him: if you
      <lb n="1685"/>would not, it were a good signe, that I should quickely
      <lb n="1686"/>haue a new Father.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1687">Poore pratler, how thou talk'st?</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter a Messenger.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-mac-mes">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mes.</speaker>
      <l n="1688">Blesse you faire Dame: I am not to you known,</l>
      <l n="1689">Though in your state of Honor I am perfect;</l>
      <l n="1690">I doubt some danger do's approach you neerely.</l>
      <l n="1691">If you will take a homely mans aduice,</l>
      <l n="1692">Be not found heere: Hence with your little ones</l>
      <l n="1693">To fright you thus. Me thinkes I am too sauage:</l>
      <l n="1694">To do worse to you, were fell Cruelty,</l>
      <l n="1695">Which is too nie your person. Heauen preserue you,</l>
      <l n="1696">I dare abide no longer.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit Messenger</stage>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1697">Whether should I flye?</l>
      <l n="1698">I haue done no harme. But I remember now</l>
      <l n="1699">I am in this earthly world: where to do harme</l>
      <l n="1700">Is often laudable, to do good sometime</l>
      <l n="1701">Accounted dangerous folly. Why then (alas)</l>
      <l n="1702">Do I put vp that womanly defence,</l>
      <l n="1703">To say I haue done no harme?</l>
      <l n="1704">What are these faces?</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Murtherers.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-mac-mur">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mur.</speaker>
      <l n="1705">Where is your Husband?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-lmf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wife.</speaker>
      <l n="1706">I hope in no place so vnsanctified,</l>
      <l n="1707">Where such as thou may'st finde him.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-mur">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mur.</speaker>
      <l n="1708">He's a Traitor.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1709">Thou ly'st thou shagge‑ear'd Villaine.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-mur">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mur.</speaker>
      <l n="1710">What you Egge?</l>
      <l n="1711">Yong fry of Treachery<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-mac-smf">
      <speaker rend="italic">Son.</speaker>
      <l n="1712">He ha's kill'd me Mother,</l>
      <l n="1713">Run away I pray you.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit crying Murther.</stage>
   <pb facs="FFimg:axc0756-0.jpg" n="146"/>
   <cb n="1"/>
</div>

        
        

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