The devil to his fellow; and delight
No less in truth, than life: my first false speaking
Was this upon myself: 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:
Now we'll together; And the chance, of goodness,
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?

Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once, 'Tis hard to reconcile.

Enter a Doctor.
Mal. Well; more anon.—Comes the king forth, I

pray you?
Doct. Āy, 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.
Mal.

I thank you, doctor.

[Exit Doctor.
Macd. What is the disease he means?
Mal.

'Tis call'd the evil:
A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which often since my here-remain in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, be cures;
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
He hath a beavenly gift of prophecy;
And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.

Enter Rosse.
Macd.

See, who comes here?

5

MACBETH.

ACT 4. he devil to his fellow; and delight o less in truth, than life: my first false speaking as this upon myself: What I am traly, thine, and my poor country's, to command: Thither, indeed, before thy here-approach, d Siward, with ten thousand warlike men, I ready at a point, was setting forth : w we'll together; And the chance, of goodness,,

like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent!
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once,
s liard to reconcile.

Enter a Doctor.
Val. Well; more anon.--Comes the king forth, I

Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not.
Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

Mal. I know him now:-Good God, betimes remove
The means that make us straugers!
Rosse.

Sir, Amen.
Macd. Stands Scotland where it did ?
Rosse.

Alas, poor country;
Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where nothing,
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
Where sigls, and groans, and shrieks'that rent the air,
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
A modern ecstacy; the dead mau's knell
Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives
Expiro 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 ininute teems a new one.
Mucd.

How does iny wife?
Rosse. Why, well.
Macd.

And all my children,
Rosse.

Well too.
Macd. The tyrant has not hatter'd at their peace?
Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did leave

thein.
Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; How goes it?

Rosse. When I caine 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 the 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
Lent us good Šiward, and ten thousand men;

[Erit Doctor

Jal.

pray you:
Doct. Ay, siri. there are a crew of wretched souls,
it stay his cure; their malady convinces

great assay of art; bat, at his touch,
h sanctity hath heaven given his hand,
presently amend.

I thank you, doctor.
Tacd. What is the disease he means?
al.

"Tis call'd the eril:
ost miracnlous work in this good king;
ch often since my here-remain in England,
ve seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
self best knows: but strangely-visited people,
woln and alcerous, pitiful to the eye,
mere despair of surgery, he cures;
ing a golden stamp about their necks,
ith holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
reding royalty he leaves
-nediction. With this strange virtue,

ly gift of prophecy;
ngs hang about his throne,
I of grace.

Enter Rosse.

See, who comes here:

An older, and a better soldier, none,
That Christendom gives out.
Rosse.

'Would I could answer
This comfort with the like! But I have words,
That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
Where hearing should not latch them.
Macd.

What concern they?
The general cause? or is it a free-grief,
Due to some single breast?
Rosse.

No mind, that's honest,
But in it shares soine woe; though the main part
Pertains to you alone.
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.

Humph! 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, tbat does not speak,
Whispers the o'er-fraught 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?
Did you say, all?-0, hell-kite?-AII
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell swoop

Mal. Dispute it like a man.

sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak,
spers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
acd. My children too!

Wife, children, servants, all
could be found.
acd.

And I must be from thence!
vite killd too:

I have said.

Be comforted:
med'cines of our great revenge,
dly grief.
10 children. All my pretty ones!

O, hell-kite:“All?
y chickens, and their dam,

SCENE I. DUNSINANE. A Room in the Castle. Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a waiting Gentlewornan.

Doct. I have two nighls watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?

Gent. Since bis majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon hier, unlock her closel, take forth paper, told it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again, return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

Doct. A great perturbalion in nature! to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching:-In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say?

Gent. Tbat, sir, which I will not report after her.
Doct. You may, to me; and 'tis most meet

you

should. Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, having no witness to confirm my speech.