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Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful;
Macd. Oh Scotland! Scotland!
Macd. Fit to govern!
Mal. Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wip'd the black scruples, reconcild my thoughts To thy 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 Heaven above Deal between thee and me! for even now I put myself to thy direction, and Unspeak mine own detraction; here abjure The taints and blames I laid upon myself, For strangers to my nature. What I am truly, Is thine, and my poor country's, to command : Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach, Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
All ready at a point, was setting forth:
once, 'Tis hard to reconcile.-See, who comes here? Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not.
Enter Rosse. Macd. My ever gentle cousin, welcome hither. Mal. I know him now: Good Heaven, betimes re
The means that make us strangers !
Rosse. Sir, Amen.
Rosse. Alas, poor country!
Macd. O, relation,
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?
children? Rosse. Well too. Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? Rosse. No; they were all at peace, when I did
Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; how goes it?
Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings
Mal. Be it their comfort,
Rosse. 'Would I could answer
Macd. What concern they?
Rosse. No mind, that's honest,
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
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 :
Macd. He has no children,-All my pretty ones?
Mal. Dispute it like a man.
Macd. I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but reinember such things were, That were most precious to me.-Did Heaven look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls ! Mal. Be this the whetstone of
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; Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too!
ACT THE FIFTH.
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.
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.
Phy. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.
Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seem