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1 Witch. Ay, Sir, all this is so. But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
Come, fifters, chear we up his sprights,
And thew the best of our delights:
I'll charm the air to give a found,
While

you perform your antick round:
That this great King may kindly fay, : :
Our duties did his welcome pay.

[Mufick,

[The witches dance and vanish.
Macb. Where are they! gone!-Let this pernicious hour
Stand ay accursed in the calendar!
Come in, without there!

Enter Lenox.
Len. What's your Grace's will ?
Macb. Saw you the weïrd sisters ?
Len. No, my Lord.
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 filed to England,

Macb. Fled to England?.
Len. Ay, my good Lord.

Macb. Time, thou anticipatil my dread exploits :
The Alighty purpose never is o'er-took,
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't thought and done
The cattle of Macduff I will surprise,
Seize upon Fife, give to the edge o' th' 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.
But no more sights. Where are these gentlemen ?
Come, bring me where they are.

[Exeunt. P3

SCENE

SCENE, changes to Macduff's Castle at Fife.

WHAT

Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Roffe. L. Macd. HAT had he done, to make him fy the

land ?
Rofe. You must have patience, Madam.

L. Macd. He had none;
His fight was madness; when our actions do not
Dur fears do make us traitors.

Refe. You know not,
Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear..

Macd. Wisdom ? to leave his wife, to leave his babes,
His manfion, and his titles, in a place
From whence himself does fly? he loves us not,
He wants the nat'ral touch; for the poor wren,
The moft diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl:
All is the fear, and nothing is the love;
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason.

Role. My dearek Cousin,
I pray you, school yourself; but for your husband,
He's noble, wise, judicious, and best knows:
The fits o'the season. I dare not speak much further,
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,
And do not know ourselves ; when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear';
But float upon a wild and violent sea
Each way, and move. I take

my
leave of

you;
Shall not be long but I'll be here again :
Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before : My pretty Coufin,
Blefling upon you!

L. Macd. Fathered he is, and yet he's fatherless.

Rolle. I am so much a fool, should I ftay longer,
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort.
I take my leave at once.

[Exit Rolle, L. Masd. Şirrah, your father's dead,

And

And what will you do now? how will you live?

Son. As birds do, mother.
L. Mard. What, on worms and Aies ?
Son. On what I

get,

I mean, and so do they. L. Macd. Poor bird! thou'dit never fear the net, nor The pit-fall, nor the gin.

[lime : 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’t with all thy wit, and yet, With wit enough for thee,

[i' faith, 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 hang’d.

Son. And must they all be hang'd, that fwear 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 enow to beat the honest men, and hang up them.

L. Macd. 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. 2. Macd. Poor pratler ! how thou talk'it ?

Enter a Mesenger, Mel. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, Though in your itate of honour I am perfect;

I doubt, some danger does approach you nearly.
If you will take a homely man's advice,
Be not found here; hence with your little ones.
To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage: .
To do worse to you were fell cruelty,
Which is too nigħ your person. Heav'n preserve you!
I dare abide no longer.

[Exit Messenger
L. Macd. Whither thould I fy?
I've done no harm. But I remember now,
I'm in this earthly world, where to do harm
Is often laudable; to do good, sometime
Accounted dang'rous folly. Why then, alas!
Do I put up that womanly defence,
To say, I'd done no harm what are these faces

Enter Murderers.
Mur. Where is your husband ?

L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unfanctified,
Where such as thou may'fi find him.

Mur. He's a traitor.
Son. Thou ly't, thou mag-eard villain.
Mur. What, you egg

?

[Stabbing himin Young fry of treachery?

Son. He 'as kill'd me, mother, Run away, pray you. [Exit L. Macduff, crying murder;

(Murderers pursue her.

OSCENE changes to the King of England's Palace.

Enter Malcolm and Macduff.
ET us seek out some defolate fhade, and there

Mal. L'eep our fad bosoms emp?y.

Macd. Let us rather Hold faft the mortal sword; and, like good men, Beftride our downfal birth doom: each new morn, New widows howl, new orphans cry; new forrows Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland, and yelld out Like fyllables of dolour.

Maha

You may

Mal. What I believe, l'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 fo, perchance ; This tyrant, whose fole name blisters our tongue's, Was once thought honeft; you have lov'd him well, He hath not touch'd you yet. I'm young; but some

thing (36)

deserve of him through me, and wifdom To offer up a weak, poor, 'innocent lamb, T'appease an angry God.

Macd. I am not treacherous.

Mal. But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may

recoit
In an imperial charge. I crave your pardon :
That which you are, my thoughts cannot tranfpote;
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell :
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look fo.

Macd. I've lost my hopes. Mal. Perchance, ev’n there, where I did find my doubts Why in that rawness left you wife and children? 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

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I'm young, but fom.thing rou

тау discern of bim-tbrough me, &c.} If the whole tenour of the context could not have convinced our blind editors, that we ought to read deserve instead of difcern, (as I have corrected in the text,) yet Macduff's answer: fure, might have given them fome light ---I am. not treacberous. There is another passage, in which vice versa the fame error has been committed upon the other word: K. Lear. (old 4to in 1608)

an eye deserving Thine honour from thy fuff'ring, Where the sense evidently demands, discerninger

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