In an imperial charge. But 'crave your pardon; Macd. I have lost my hopes. Mal. Perchance, even there, where I did find my doubts. Why in that rawness left your 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 shall think. Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dares not check thee! wear thou thy wrongs, Thy title is affeer'd 53 ! - Fare thee well, lord: 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. There would be hands uplifted in my right; VOL. IV. G When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head, Macd. What should he be ? Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I knowAll the particulars of vice so grafted, That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state With my confineless harms. Not in the legions Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd In evils, to top Macbeth. I grant him bloody, That has a name: But there's no bottom, none, Than such a one to reign. Macd. Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny: it hath been The untimely emptying of the happy throne, To take upon you what is yours: you may Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty, 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 I should cut off the nobles for their lands; Macd. This avarice Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root Mal. But I have none: the king-becoming graces, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. 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, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again? Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accurs'd, And does blaspheme his breed? -Thy royal father Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! Have banish'd me from Scotland.-O, my breast, Thy hope ends here! Mal. Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Unknown to woman; never was forsworn; Enter a Doctor. Mal. Well; more anon. -Comes the king forth, I pray you? Doct. Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched souls, That stay his cure: their malady convinces The great assay of art; but, at his touch, Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, They presently amend. A most miraculous work in this good king; I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, |