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S MEMy coamers wan; but yet I know Line
Macd. My ever-gentle Cousin, welcome hither.
Mal. I know him now. Good God betimes remove The means that makes us strangers !
Rose. Sir, Amen.
Roffe. Alas, poor Country,
Macd. Oh, relation
Mal. What's the newest grief?
Rose. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker, Each minute teems a new one. Macd. How does
wife? Roffe. Why, well. Macd. And all my children? Rose. Well too. Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace ? Roffe. No ; they were well at peace, when I did
leave 'em. Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech : how
Roffe. When I came hither to transport the tidings, Which I have heavily borne, there ran a ruinour Of many worthy fellows that were out, Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
For that I saw the Tyrant's Power a-foot ;
Mal. Be't their comfort
Rose. 'Would I could answer
Macd. What concern they ?
Roffe. No mind, that's honest,
Rose. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
Macd. Hum! I guess at it.
Roffe. Your Castle is surpriz’d, your wife and babes
Mlad My children too !
(too! Mal. Be comforted.
Let's make us med'cines of our great Revenge,
Macd. He has no children -All my pretty ones ?
Mal. Difpute it like a Man.
Macd. I shall do so: But I must also feel it as a Man. I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me: did heav'n look on, And would not take their part? finful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! naught that I am, Not for their own deinerils, but for mine, Fell Slaughter on their souls: heav'n rest them now!
Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword, let grief Convert to wrath : blunt not the heart, enrage it.
Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue. But, gentle heav'n ! Cut short all intermission : front to front, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; Within my swords length set him, if he 'scape, Then heav'n forgive him 100!
Mal. This tune goes manly: Come, go we to the King, our Power is ready; Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the Powers above [may ? Put on their Instruments. Receive what cheer you The night is long that never finds the day. (Exeunt.
S CE N E I.
Have two nights watch'd with you, but can
perceive no truth in your report. When was it, she last walk'd ?
Gent. Since his Majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed ; Yet all this while in a most fast sleep.
Do&t. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry agitation, beldes her walking, and other actual performances, what (at any time) have you heard her say ?
Gent. That, Sir, which I will not report after her. Doet. You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should.
Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, having no witness to confirm my speech.
Enter Lady Macbeth with a Taper. Lo, you! here she comes : this is her very guise, and upon my life, fast alleep; observe her, stand close.
Do&t. How came she by that light?
Gent. Why, it stood by her: the has light by her continually, 'tis her command.
Do&t. You see, her eyes are open.
Dod. What is it she does now ? look, how she rubs her hands.
Gent. It is an accustom'd Adion with her, to feem thus washing her hands: I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.
Lady. Yet here's a spot.
Dott. Hark, she speaks. I will set down what comes from her, to fortify my remembrance the more strongly.
Lady. Out! damned spot; out, I say --one; two ; why then, 'tis time to do'--hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afraid? what need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power
* to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.] Both the Sense and Expression require we thould read, to fortify my Remembrance. Iarb,
to account ?-yet who would have thought the old man to have so much blood in him ?
Do&t. Do you mark that ?
Lady. The Thane of Fife had a wife; where is the now; what, will these hands ne'er be clean?more o’that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.
Do&t. Go to, go to ; you have known what you should not.
Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that : heav'n knows, what she has known.
Lady. Here's the smell of the blood ftill :- all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh ! oh! oh !
Do&t. What a sigh is there ? the heart is forely charg’d.
Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body.
Doct. Well, well, well-
Doft. This disease is beyond my practice: yet I have known those which have walk'd in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds.
Lady. Wash your hands, put on your Night-gown, look not fo pale I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his Grave.
Dost. Even so ?
Lady. To bed, to bed ; there's knocking at the gate: come, come, come, come, give me your hand : wliat's done, cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed.
Exit Lady. Dott. Will she go now to bed ? Gent. Directly Dott. Foul whisp’rings are abroad ; unnat'ral deeds Do breed unnat'ral troubles. Infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their Secrets. More needs the the Divine, than the Physician. God, God, forgive us all! Look after her;