Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful; In my voluptuousness. Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, All unity on earth. Macd. Oh Scotland! Scotland! Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak. No, not to live.-O nation miserable, By his own interdiction stands accurs'd, And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal father Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore thee, Oftener upon her knees than on her feet, Dy'd every day she lived. Fare thee well! These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself, Have banish'd me from Scotland.—O, my breast, Thy hope ends here! Mal. Macduff, this noble passion, Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts What I am truly, Is thine, and my poor country's, to command: All ready at a point, was setting forth: Now we'll together; and the chance, of goodness, once, "Tis hard to reconcile.-See, who comes here? Macd. My ever gentle cousin, welcome hither. move The means that make us strangers! Rosse. Sir, Amen. Macd. Stands Scotland where it did? Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing, Is there scarce ask'd, for whom; and good men's lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying, or ere they sicken. Macd. O, relation, Too nice, and yet too true! Mal. What is the newest grief? Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker; Each minute teems a new one. Macd. How does my wife? Rosse. Why, well. Macd. And all my Rosse. Well too. children? Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? Rosse. No; they were all at peace, when I did leave them. Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; how goes it? Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour Of many worthy fellows that were out; Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot: Now is your time of help; your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, make our women fight, To doff their dire distresses. Mal. Be it their comfort, We are coming thither: gracious England hath That Christendom gives out. Rosse. 'Would I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words, The general cause? or is it a fee-grief, Rosse. No mind, that's honest, But in it share's some woe; though the main part Macd. If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard. Macd. Hum! I guess at it. Rosse. Your castle is surpris'd; your wife, and babes, Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner, Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, To add the death of you. Mal. Merciful Heaven! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak, Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break. Macd. My children too? Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all That could be found. Macd. And I must be from thence! My wife kill'd too? Rosse. I have said. Mal. Be comforted: Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. Macd. He has no children,-All my pretty ones? all?-Oh; hell-kite!—All? Did you say, What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, Mal. Dispute it like a man. Macd. I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me.-Did Heaven look on, Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue!-But, gentle Heaven, Cut short all intermission; front to front Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; [Exeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. LADY MACBETH's Rooms, in the Castle at Dunsinane. Enter a GENTLEWOMAN and a PHYSICIAN. Phy. I have two nights watch'd with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walk'd? Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. Phy. What at any time have you heard her say? Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her. Phy. You may, to me; and 'tis most meet you should. Gent. Neither to you, nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech.-Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. Enter LADY MACBETH, with a Taper. Phy. How came she by that light? Gent. Why, it stood by her she has light by her continually; 'tis her command. Phy. You see her eyes are open. Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. Phy. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands. Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seem G |