f Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear And take the prefent horror from the time, Which now fuits with it. Whilft I threat, he lives-→→ I and it is done; the bell invites me. That fummons thee to heaven or to hell. SHAKESPEAR. CHAP. · XXIII. MACDUFF, MALCOLM, AND ROSSE. MACD. EE who comes here! SEE MAL. My countryman; but yet I know him not. MACD. My ever-gentle coufin, welcome hither. MAL. I know him now. Good God, betimes remove The means that makes us ftrangers! ROSSE. MACD. Stands Scotland where it did? Rosse. Alas, poor country, Almoft afraid to know itfelf. It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing, Is there scarce afk'd, for whom: and good mens' lives Dying or e'er they ficken. MACD. Oh, relation Too nice, and yet too, true! MAL. What's the neweft grief? ROSSE. That of an hour's age doth hifs the speaker, Each minute teems a new one. MACD. How does my Wife? ROSSE. Why, well, MACD. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland We're coming thither: gracious England hath That Christendom gives out. ROSSE. Would I could answer This comfort with the like; but I have words Rosse. No mind that's honeft, But in it shares fome woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone. MACD. 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 fhall poffefs them with the heaviest found, That ever yet they heard. MACD. Hum! I guess at it. ROSSE. Your caftle is furpris'd, your wife and babes Savagely flaughter'd; to relate the manner, Were on the quarry of thefe murther'd deer To add the death of you. MAL. Merciful Heav'n! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows, ROSSE, Wife, children, fervants, all that could be found. Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. MACD. He has no children.-All my pretty ones; Did you fay, all? what all? oh, hell-kite! all? But I must also feel it as a man. I cannot but remember fuch things were, That were moft precious to me. Did Heav'n look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, Fell flaughter on their fouls. Heav'n reft them now! MAL. MAL. Be this the whet-ftone of your fword, let grief Convert to wrath; blunt not the heart, enrage it. MACD. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue. But, gentle Heav'n! Cut fhort all intermiffion: front to front, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; Then Heav'n forgive him too! MAL. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the King, our power is ready; Macbeth Is ripe for fhaking, and the powers above Put on their inftruments. Receive what cheer you may; The night is long that never finds the day. SHAKESPEAR. CHA P.. XXIV. ANTONY'S SOLILOQUY OVER CESAR's BODY. PARDON me, thou bleeding piece of earth! That I am meek and gentle with these butchers. Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that fhed this coftly blood! Over thy wounds now do I prophefy,. (Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips, That mothers fhall but fmile, when they behold SHAKESPEAR, С НА Р. XXV. ANTONY's FUNERAL ORATION OVER CESAR's BODY. RIENDS, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Did this in Cæfar feem ambitious? When that the poor have cry'd, Cæfar hath wept; 7 Ambition |