Page:Macbeth (1918) Yale.djvu/65

Macbeth, III. vi

Shall raise such artificial sprites

As by the strength of their illusion

Shall draw him on to his confusion:

He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear

His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear;

And you all know security

Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

Song within, 'Come away, come away,' &c.

Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see,

Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.

First Witch. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.

Len. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,

Which can interpret further: only, I say,

Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan

Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead:

And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;

Whom, you may say, if 't please you, Fleance kill'd,

For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late.

Who cannot want the thought how monstrous

It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain

To kill their gracious father? damned fact!

How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight

In pious rage the two delinquents tear,

That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep?

 27 artificial: skilful

29 confusion: ruin

32 security: over-confidence  3 borne: managed

8 Who cannot want: who can lack

10 fact: deed

13 thralls: bondmen

