All is the fear, and nothing is the love; Rosse. My dearest coz, I pray you, school yourself: But, for your husband, The fits o' the season. I dare not speak much further: And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumour From what we fear, yet know not what we fear; Each way, and move.-I take my leave of you: Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead; And what will you do now? How will you live? L. Macd. What, with worms and flies? Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. [Exit ROSSE. L. Macd. Poor bird! thoud'st never fear the net, nor line, The pit-fall, 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. 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 there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men and hang up them. L. Macd. Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father? Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father. L. Macd. Poor prattler! how thou talk'st. Enter a MESSENGER. Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you! L. Macd. Whither should I fly? [Exit MESSENGER. I have done no harm. But I remember now -What are these faces? Enter MURDERERS. Mur. Where is your husband? L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified, Where such as thou mayst find him. Mur. He's a traitor. Young fry of treachery? [Stabbing him. Run away, I pray you. [Dies. Son. He has killed me, mother; [Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying murder, and pursued by the MURDERERS. SCENE III-England. A Room in the King's Palace. Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF. Mal. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty. Macd. Let us rather Hold fast the mortal sword; and like good men, Bestride our downfall'n birthdom:† Each new morn, New widows howl; new orphans cry; new sorrows As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out Like syllable of dolour. Mal. What I believe, I'll wail; What know, believe; and, what I can redress, As I shall find the time to 'friend, I will. What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance, * I am perfectly acquainted with your rank. + Birthright. He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but something You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb, To appease an angry god. Macd. I am not treacherous. Mal. But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil, * In an imperial charge. But crave your pardon; Mucd. I have lost my hopes. Mal. Perchance, even there, where I did find my doubts. Why in that rawnesst left you 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, 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'dt-Fare thee well, lord: I would not be the villain that thou think'st For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp, Mal. Be not offended: I speak not as in an absolute fear of you. Macd. What should he be ? Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I know That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth With my confineless harms. Macd. Not in the legions Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd Mal. I grant him bloody. *Commission. + Bareness. Confirmed. * Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden,+ malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name: But there's no bottom, none, All continent impediments would o'er-bear, Macd. Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny; it hath been As will to greatness dedicate themselves, Mal. With this, there grows, In my most ill-composed affection, such Macd. This avarice Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root Mal. But I have none: The king-becoming graces, Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. Macd. O Scotland! Scotland! Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak: I am as I have spoken. Macd. Fit to govern! *Lascivious. § Plenty. † Passionate. Seeded, as an annual. Endurable. No, not to live.-O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred, By his own interdiction stands accursed, And does blaspheme his breed ?-Thy royal father Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! Mal. Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts No less in truth than life: my first false-speaking Now we'll together; and the chance, of goodness, 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 convincest The great assay of art; but, at his touch, They presently amend. Mal. I thank you, doctor. Macd. What is the disease he means? A most miraculous work in this good king; Which often, since my here-remain in England, * Over-hasty credulity. [Exit DOCTOR. + Overpowers, subdues. |