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His title is affear’d. Fare thee well, Lord:
I would not be the villain that thou think it,
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
And the rich East to boot.
Mal. Be not offended;
I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
I think, our country finks beneath the yoke;
It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds. I think withal,
There would be hands up-lifted in my right:
And here from gracious England have I offer
Of goodly thousands. But for all this,
When I thall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before ;
More fuffer, and more fundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed.
Macd. What should he be ?
Mal. It is myself I mean, in whom I know
All the particulars of vice so grafted,
That when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
Will fem as pure as snow, and the poor
Efteem him as a lamb, being compar'd
With my confineless harms.
Macd. Not in the legions
Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd,
In evils to top
Mal. I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious, smacking of ev'ry fin
That has a name.
But there's no bottom, none,
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters;
Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up
The ciftern of my
All continent impediments would o'er-bear,
That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth,
Than such an one to reign.
Macd. Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne,
Hiravelct in Vol:6.P-347.
And fall of many Kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours: you may
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink;
We've willing dames enough; there cannot be
That vulture in you to devour so many,
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it to inclin'd.
Mal. With this, there grows,
In my most ill-compos'd affection, such
A ftanchless avarice, that, were I King,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands;
Desire his jewels, and this other's house ;
And my more-having would be as a fauce
To make me hunger more; that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.
Macd. This avarice
Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root (37)
Than fummer-ceeming luft ; and it hath been
The sword of our flain Kings: yet do not fear ;
Scctland hath foysons to fill up your will
Of your mere own. All thele are portable,
With other graces weigh'd.
grows with more pernicious root Than Summer-seeming luft
. ] Mr. Warburton concurr'd with me in ebserving, that fun.mer-seeming has no manner of sense: We therefore both corrected conjecturally,
Than summer-tceming luft. i. e. the pallion, which lafts no longer than the beat of life, and which goes off in the winter of age. Belides, the metaphor is much more juft by our emendation; for summer is the season in which weeds get strength, grow rank, and dilate themselves. 2 Henry VI.
Now 'tis the spring,
And weeds are hallozv-rooted; fuffer them now,
And they'll o'ergrow the garden. The same image our author in another passage conveys by an equivalent epithet, summer-fwelling. 2 Gent. of Verona.
Disdain to root tlie ummer-Savelling flow'rg
And make rough winter everlastingly,
Mal. But I have none; the King-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temp'rance, ftableness, B Junty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude; I have no relish of them, but abound In the division of each several crime, Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth.
Macd. Oh Scotland! Scotland!
Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak : I am as I have spoken.
Macd. Fit to govern?
No, not to live. Oh, nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant, bloody-fceptred!
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accurst,
And does blafpheme his breed. Thy royal father
Was a moft fainted King; the Queen, that bore thees
Otiner upon her knees than on her feet,
Dy'd every day fhe liv'd. Oh, fare thee well!
These evils, thou repeat'it upon thyself,
Have banish'd me from Scotland. Oh, my breaft?
Thy hope ends here.
Mal. Macduff, this noble paflion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wip'd the black fcruples; reconcil'd my thoughts
To thy gcoj truth and honour. Devilish Macbetia
By many of these trains hath fought to win me
Into his pow's: and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous haste; But God above
Deal bei ween thee and me! for even now
I put mytelf to thy direction, and
Unspeak mire o.vn detraction; here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon mylelf,
For ftrangers to my nature.
Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,