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MACBETH .

ACT 4.
s the wisdom, where the flight
gainst all reason.

My dearest coz',
pu, school yourself: But, for your husband,
ble

, wise, judicious, and best knows
'the season. I dare not speak much farther :
I are the times, when we are traitors,
not know ourselves; when we hold rumour
at we fear, yet know not what we fear;

spon a wild and violent sea,
y, and move...I take my leave of you:
be loug but I'll be here again:
t the worst will cease, or else climb upward
they were before. ---My pretty cousin,
cd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
I am so much a fool

, should I stay longer,
be my disgrace and your discomfort:
y leave at once.

Sirrah, your father's dead;
t will you do now? How will you live?
s birds do, mother.
d.

What, with worlas and flies?
Vith what I get, I mean; and so do they.
d. Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the det,

Son. What is a traitor?
L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.
Son. And be all traitors, that do so?

L. Mucd. Every one that does so, is a traitor, and must be hanged.

Son. And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lie?
L. Macd. Every one.
Son. Who must hang them?
L. Macd. Why, the honest men.

Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools: for there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men, and hang up them.

L. Macd. Now,, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father?

Son, If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you
would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly
have a new father.
L. Macd. Poor prattler! low thou talk'st!

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
Though in your state of honour I an perfect.
I doubt, some danger does approach you nearly:
If you will take a bomely man's advice,
Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;
To do worse to you, were fell cruelty,
Which is too nigh your person. "Heaven preserve

you!
I dare abide no longer.

[Exit Messenger. L. Macd.

Whither should I fly?
I have done no barm. But I remember pow
I am in this earthly world; where, to do harm,
is often laudable: to do good, sometime,
Accounted dangerous folly: Why then, alas!
Do I put up that womanly defence,
To say, I have done no harm?-What are these faces?

Enter Murderers,
Mur. Where is your husband?

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[Exit Rose

cd.

nor lime,
ill, nor the gin.
hy should I, mother? Poor birds they are not
el for,
· is not dead, for all your saying:
Yes, he is dead; how wilt ibon de for a

will you do for a husband?
cau buy me twenty at any market.
ay 'em to sell again.
eak'st with all thy wit; and get

thee.

er a traitor, mother?

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L. Macd. I hope in no place so unsanctified,
Where such as thou may'st find him.
Mur.

He's a traitor.
Şon. Thou ly'st, thou shag-ear'd villain.
Mur.

What, you egg?

[Stabbing him. Young fry of treachery? Son.

He has killed me, mother; Run away, I pray you.

[Dies. [Exit Lady Macduff, crying murder, and

pursued by the Murderers.

SCENE III.
ENGLAND. A Room in the King's Palace.

Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF.
Mul. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
Weep our sad bosoms empty.
Macd.

Let us rather
Hold fast the mortal sword; and, like good men,
Bestride our downfall’n birthdom: Each new morn,
New widows howl; new orphans cry; new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yelld out
Like syllable of dolour.
Mal.

What I believe, I'll wail;
What know, believe; and, what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongue,
Was once thought bonest: you have lov'd him well;
He hath not touch'd you yet. Iam young; but something
You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom
To ofler up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,
To appease an angry god.

Macd. I am not treacherous.
Mal.

But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil,
In an imperial charge. But 'crave your pardon ;
That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose :

And t Mla

I spea

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MACBETH.

[Dices

cd. I hope in no place so upsanctified,
uch as thou may'st find him.

He's a traitor. I'lou ly'st, thou shag-eard villain.

What, you egg?

(Stabbing in Try of treachery?

He has killed me, mother; ay, I pray you. Erit Lady Macduff, crying murder

, and pursued by the Murderers.

SCENE III.
NGLAND. A Ropm in the King's Palace.

Enter MALCOLM and MacDUFF, Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there ur sad bosoms empty.

Let us rather st the mortal sword; and, like good men, ? oar downfall’n birthdom: Each new morn, dows howl; new orphans cry; new sorrows felt with Scotland, and yell’d out

What I believe, l'%l wail

Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell:
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.
Macd.

I have lost my hopes. Mal. Perchance, even there, where I did find my

doubts. Why in that rawness left you wife and child (Those precious motives, those strong knots of love), Without leave-taking ?-I pray, you, Let not my jealousies be your dishonours, But mine own safeties:-You may be rightly just, Whatever I sball think. Macd.

Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, Forgoodness dares not check thee! wear thou thy wrongs, Thy title is affeerd Fare thee well, lord: I would not be the villain that thou think'st, For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp, And the rich east to boot. Mal.

Be not offended :
I speak not as in absolute fear of

you.
I think, oor country sinks beneath the yoke;
It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds : I think, withal,
There would be hands uplifted in my right;
And here, from gracious England, have I offer
Of goodly thousands: Bat, for all this,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Sball have more vices than it had before;
More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever,
By bim that shall succeed.
Macd.

What should he be?
Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I know
All the particulars of vice so grafted,
That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
Will seem as pure as snow; and the
Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd
With my confineless barms.
Macd.

Not in the legions

eaven on the face, that it resounds

lable of dolour.

poor state

now, believe; and, what I can redress,
I find the time to friend, I will.
va have spoke, it may be so, perchance.
int, whose sole name blisters our tongue,
thought honest: you have lov'd hia well;

touch'd you yet. Tam young; bat something
Prve of him through me; and wisdom
weak, poor, innocent lamb,

angry god.
u noi treacherous.

But Macbeth is.
virtuous nature may recoil,
inl charge. But 'orave your pardon;

my thoughts cannot transpose:

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Of horrid bell, can come a devil more damn'd
In evils, to top Macbeth.
Mal.

I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin
That has a name: But there's no bottom, none,
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up
The cistern 'of my lust; and my desire
All continent impediments would o'er-bear,
That did oppose my will: Better Macbeth,
Than such a one to reign.
Macd.

Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
The untimely emptying of the happy throne,
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours : you may
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
Aud yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.
We have willing dames enough; there cannot be
That vulture in you, to devour so many
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so inclin'd.
Mal.

With this, there grows,
In my most ill-compos'd affection, such
A stanchless avarice, that were I king,
I should cut the nobles for their lands;
Desire his jewels, and this other's house:
And my more having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more; that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.
Macd.

This avarice
Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeding lust: and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings: Yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foysons to fill up your will,
Of your mere own: All these are portable,
With other graces weigh’d.
Mal. But I have none: Tlre king-becoming graces,

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Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure

For strangers to my nature. I am yet

Scarcely have coveted what was mine own; At no time broke my faith; would not betray

55

orrid bell, can come a devil more damn'd
ils, to top Macbeth.
ul.

grant him bloody,
urious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
en, malicious, sınacking of every

sin has a name: But there's no bottom, none, - volaptuousness: your wives, your daughters

, matrons, and your maids, could not fill up astern of my lust; and my desire ntinent impediments would o'er-bear, lid oppose my will: Better Macbeth, Fuch a one to reign. d.

Boundless intemperance are is a tyranny; it lath been

timely emplying of the happy throne, Il of many kings. But fear not yet e upon you what is yours : you may - your pleasures in a spacious plenty,, t seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink. ve willing dames enough; there cannot be alture in you, to devour so many to greatness dedicate themselves, it so inclin'd.

With this, there grows, zost ill-compos'd affection, such aless avarice, that were I king, cut off the nobles for their lands; is jewels, and this other's house: more having would be as a sauce me hunger more; that I should forge unjust against the good and loyal, ng lhem for wealth.

This avarice rper; grows with more pernicious root mer-seeding lust: and it hath been 1 of our slain kings: Yet do not fear; hath foysons to fill up your will, mere own: All these are portable, er graces weighd. at I have none: Tlre king-becoming graces,

As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them; but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet misk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.
Macd.

O Scotland! Scotland!
Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak:
I am as I have spoken.
Macd.

Fit to govern!
No, not to live.-O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again;
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By bis own interdiction stands accurs'd,
And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore thee
Oft'ner upon her knees than on her feet,
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself,
Have banish'd me from Scotland. -0, my breast,
Thy hope ends here!
Mal.

Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, bath from my soul Wip?d the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts To ihy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth By many of these trains hath sought to win me Into his

power: and modest wisdom plucks me From over-credulous haste: But God above Deal belween thee and me! for even now put myself to thy direction, and The taints and blames I laid upon myself, Unknown to woman; never was forsworn;

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