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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 His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool; This deed I'll do, before this purpose
cool.Where are these gentlemen?
The Country,—in England.
Enter Malcolm and Macduff. Mai. 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 down-fall'n birthdom : Each new morn, New widows howl; new orphans cry; new sorrows Strike Heaven on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland, and yelld out Like syllables of dolour. Mal. What you have spoke, it may be so, per
chance. This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest: you have loved him well; He hath not touch'd you yet.
Macd. I am not treacherous.
Mal. But Macbeth is.
Macd. I have lost my hopes.
Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country!
Mai. Be not offended:
Macd. What should he be?
Mai. It is myself I mean: in whom I know
Macd. Not in the legions
Mai. I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful;
Macd. Oh Scotland! Scotland!
Macd. Fit to govern!
her knees than on her feet, Dy'd every day she lived. Fare thee well! These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself, Have banish'd me from Scotland.-0, my breast, Thy hope ends here!
Mal. Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth, By many of these trains, hath sought to win me Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me From over credulous haste: But Heaven above Deal between thee and me! for even now I put myself to thy direction, and Unspeak mine own detraction; here abjure The taints and blames I laid upon myself, For strangers to my nature. 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:
once, 'Tis hard to reconcile.—See, who comes here? Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not.
Enter Rosse. Macd. My ever gentle cousin, welcome hither. Mal. I know him now: Good Heaven, betimes re
The means that make us strangers !
i 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 sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rend the air, Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstacy: the dead man's knell Is there scarce ask'd, for whom; and good men's
Macd. O, relation,
Mal. What is the newest grief?
Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker; Each minute teems a new one. Macd. How does
wife? Rosse. Why, well. Macd. And all
my children? Rosse. Well too. Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? Rosse. No; they were all at peace, when I did
Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; how goes it?
Basse. When I came hither to transport the tidings
Mai. Be it their comfort,
Rosse. 'Would I could answer
Macd. What concern they?
Rosse. No mind, that's honest,
Macd. If it be mine,
Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard.
Macd. Hum ! 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. Mai. Merciful Heaven !What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words : the grief, that does not speak, Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.