While you perform your antic round, [Music. 130 The Witches dance, and then vanish, with Hecate. Macb. Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious Macb. Came they not by you? Len. And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear The galloping of horse: who was 't came by? 140 Len. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word Macduff is fled to England. Macb. Len. Ay, my good lord. Fled to England! Macb. [Aside] Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits: The flighty purpose never is o'ertook Unless the deed go with it: from this moment To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and The castle of Macduff I will surprise; 150 Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword But no more sights!—Where are these gentlemen? [Exeunt. Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Ross. L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the land? Ross. You must have patience, madam. L. Macd. Ross. He had none : His flight was madness: when our actions do not, You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his Ross. babes, His mansion and his titles, in a place From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. My dearest coz, IO I pray you, school yourself: but, for your husband, But cruel are the times, when we are traitors And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumour leave of you: Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward Blessing upon you! L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. Ross. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace and your discomfort: L. Macd. [Exit. Sirrah, your father's dead: 30 And what will you do now? How will you live? Son. As birds do, mother. L. Macd. What, with worms and flies? Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. L. Macd. Poor bird! thou 'ldst never fear the net nor lime, T'he pitfall nor the gin. Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is not dead, for all your saying. L. Macd. Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou do for a father? Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband? L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. 40 Son. Then you 'll buy 'em to sell again. L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit, and yet, i' faith, With wit enough for thee. Son. Was my father a traitor, mother? L. Macd. Ay, that he was. Son. What is a traitor? L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies. Son. And be all traitors that do so? L. Macd. Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged. Son. And must they all be hanged 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 L. Macd. Now, God help thee, poor monkey! Son. If he were dead, you'ld weep for him: if you L. Macd. Poor prattler, how thou talk'st! Enter a Messenger. Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, I doubt some danger does approach you nearly: 50 60 Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. |