Macb. Saw you the weird sisters? Macb. Came they not by you? Len. No, indeed, my lord. Macb. Infected be the air, whereon they ride; And damn'd all those, that trust them!-I did hear The galloping of horse: Who was't came by? Len. "Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word, Macduff is fled to England. Macb. Fled to England? Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits : The flighty purpose never is o'ertook, Unless the deed go with it: From this moment, The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done : The castle of Macduff I will surprise : Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o'the sword [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Fife. A Room in MACDUFF's Castle. Enter Lady MACDUFF, her Son, and Rosse. L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the land? Rosse. You must have patience, madam. L. Macd. He had none : His flight was madness: When our actions do not, Rosse. You know not, Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear. L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion, and his titles, in a place From whence himself doth fly? He loves us not; As little is the wisdom, where the flight Rosse. My dearest coz', I pray you, school yourself: But, for your husband, He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows The fits o'the season. I dare not speak much further: And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumour Each way, and move.-I take my leave of you: Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward Lady Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort; I take my leave at once. [Exit ROSSE. L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead; L. Macd. What, with worms and flies? Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. L. Macd. Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the net, nor lime, 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 mar ket. 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, Though in your state of honour I am perfect. I doubt, some danger does approach you nearly : Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you! L. Macd. Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. [Exit Messenger. But I remember now I am in this earthly world: where, to do harm, Is often laudable: to do good, sometime, Accounted dangerous folly: Why then, alas! To say, I have done no harm?What are these fa ces? Enter Murderers. Mur. Where is your husband? L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified, Where such as thou may'st find him. Mur. He's a traitor. Son. Thou ly'st, thou shag-ear'd villain. Mur. What, you egg? Young fry of treachery? Son. He has killed me, mother: Run away, I pray you. [Stabbing him. [Dies. [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, Mal. What I believe, I'll wail; What know, believe; and, what I can redress, What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance. |