Macb. I will be fatisfy'd. Deny me this, And an eternal curfe fall on you! let me know, Why finks that cauldron ? and what noise is this? I Witch. Shew! 2. Witch. Shew! 3 Witch. Shew! [Hautboys. All. Shew his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, fo depart. [Eight Kings appear and pass over in order, and Banquo; the laft, with a glass in his hand. Macb. Thou art too like the fpirit of Banquo; down! Thy crown do's fear mine eye-balls. And thy air (Thou other gold-bound brow) is like the firftA third is like the former- -filthy hags! Why do you fhew me this?-A fourth ?-Start, eye! Another yet ?- A feventh! I'll fee no more- [Mufic. The witches dance and vanish. Mach. Where are they? gone?Let this pernicious hour Stand Len Enter Lenox. Len. What's your Grace's will? Macb. Saw you the weyward fifters ? 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 thofe that truft 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'ft my dread exploits :: The flighty purpose never is o'er-took, Unless the deed go with it. From this moment, The very firftlings of my heart shall be The firflings of my hand. And even now To crown my thoughts with acts, be't thought and done! The Caftle of Macduff I will furprise, Seize upon Fife, give to the edge o' th' fword But no more fights. Where are these gentlemen ? SCENE III. Changes to Macduff's Cafle at Fife." [Exeunt. Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Roffe. L. Macd. WHA THAT had he done, to make him Roffe. You must have patience, Madam. L. Macd. He had none; His flight was madness; when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors. Roffe. Roffe. You know not, Whether it was his wifdom, or his fear. [babes, L. Macd. Wifdom? to leave his wife, to leave his His mansion, and his titles, in a place From whence himself does fly? he loves us not, Roffe. My dearest Cousin, I pray you, fchool yourself; but for your husband, The fits o'th' feafon. I dare not speak much further, Each and move. way, I take leave of you; my Shall not be long but I'll be here again: Things at the worft will cease, or else climb upward To what they were before: My pretty Coufin, Bleffing upon you! L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. Roffe. I am fo much a fool, fhould I ftay longer, It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort, I take my leave at once. L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead, And what will you do now Son. As birds do, Mother. [Exit Roffe. ? how will you live? L. Macd. What, on worms and flies? Son. On what I get, I mean; and fo do they. L. Macd. Poor bird! Thou'dft never fear the net, nor lime: The pit-fall, nor the gin. Son. Why fhould I, Mother? poor birds, they are not set for. My 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 fell again. L. Macd. Thou fpeak'ft with all thy wit, and yet i' faith, With wit enough for thee. Son. Was my father a traitor, mother? Son. What is a traitor? L. Macd. Why, one that fwears and lies. L. Macd. Every one that does fo, is a traitor, and must be hang'd. Son. And muft they all be hang'd, that fwear and lie? L. Macd. Every one. Son. Who muft hang them? L. Macd. Why, the honeft men. Son. Then the liars and fwearers are fools; for there are liars and fwearers enow to beat the honeft 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 fign that I fhould quickly have a new father. L. Macd. Poor pratler! how thou talk'ft? Enter a Meffenger. Mef. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, Though in your state of honour I am perfect; I doubt, fome 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 favage; Το To do worship to you were fell cruelty, Which is too nigh your person. Heav'n preferve you! [Exit Meffenger. I dare abide no longer. L. Macd. Whither should I fly? I've done no harm. But I remember now, To say, I'd done no harm?—what are these faces? Mur. Where is your husband? L. Macd. I hope, in no place fo unsanctified," Where fuch as thou may'ft find him. Mur. He's a traitor. Son. Thou ly'ft, thou shag-ear'd villain. Mur. What, you egg? Young fry of treachery? Son. He'as kill'd me, mother. Run away, pray you. [Stabbing him. [Exit L. Macduff, crying Murder; Murderers purfue her. SCENE IV. Changes to the King of England's Palace; Mal. L ET us feek out fome defolate fhade, and there Weep our fad bofoms empty. Macd. Let us rather Hold faft the mortal fword; and, like good men, Beftride our downfaln birth-doom: each new morn, New widows howl, new orphans cry; new forrows. Strike heaven on the face, that it refounds As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out And yell'd out Like fyllables of dolour. This presents a ridiculous Image. But |