Macd. Be not a niggard of your fpeech: how goes it ? Roffe. When I came hither to transport the tydings, Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour Of many worthy fellows that were out, Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, For that I faw the Tyrant's Power a-foot; Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland Would create foldiers, and make women fight, To doff their dire diftreffes.

Mal. Be't their comfort

We're coming thither: gracious England hath
Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men ;
An older, and a better foldier, none
That Christendom gives out.

Roffe. 'Would I could answer

This comfort with the like! But I have words,
That would be howl'd out in the defart air,
Where Hearing fhould not catch them.
Macd. What concern they?

The gen❜ral caufe? or is it a fee-grief,
Due to fome fingle breast?

Roffe. No mind, that's honeft,

But in it shares fome woe; though the main part

Pertains to you alone.

Macd. If it be mine,

Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

Roffe. Let not your ears defpife my tongue for ever, Which fhall poffefs them with the heaviest Sound, That ever yet they heard.

Macd. Hum! I guess at it.

Roffe. Your Caftle is furpriz'd, your wife and babes Savagely flaughter'd; to relate the manner, Were on the Quarry of thefe murther'd deer To add the death of you.

Mal. Merciful heav'n!

What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
Give forrow words; the grief, that does not speak,
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
Macd. My children too!

Roffe. Wife, children, fervants, all that could be found.

Macd

Macd. And I must be from thence! my wife kill'd too! Roffe. I've faid.

Mal. Be comforted.

Let's make us med'cines of our great Revenge,

To cure this deadly grief.

Macd. He has no children.

All my pretty ones?

Did you fay, all? what, all? oh, hell-kite! all?
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell fwoop?

Mal. Difpute it like a Man.

Macd. I fhall do fo :

But I must also feel it as a Man.

I cannot but remember fuch things were,

That were moft precious to me : did heav'n look on,
And would not take their part? finful Macduff,
They were all ftruck for thee! naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,

Fell Slaughter on their fouls: heav'n rest them now!
Mal. Be this the whetstone of your fword, 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 fhort all intermiffion : front to front,

Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and my felf;
Within my fword's length fet him, if he 'fcape,
Then heaven forgive him too!

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 fhaking, and the Powers above

Put on their Inftruments. Receive what cheer you may;
The night is long, that never finds the day.

[Exeunt.

ACT

ACT V.

SCENE, An Ante-chamber in Macbeth's Caftle.

I'

Enter a Doctor of Phyfick, and a Gentlewoman.

DOCTOR.

HAVE two nights watch'd with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it, fhe last walk'd?

Gent. Since his Majefty went into the field, I have feen her rife from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, afterwards feal it, and again return to bed; Yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit of fleep, and do the effects of watching. In this flumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, what (at any time) have you heard her fay?

Gent. That, Sir, which I will not report after her. Doc. You may to me, and 'tis moft 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 fhe comes: this is her very guife, and, upon my life, faft afleep; observe her, stand close.

Doct. How came the by that light?

Gent. Why, it flood by her she has light by her continually, 'tis her command.

Doct. You fee, her eyes are open.

Gent. Ay, but their fenfe is fhut.

Doct. What is it fhe does now? look, how fhe rubs her hands.

Gent.

Gent. It is an accuftom'd Action 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.

Doct. Hark, fhe speaks. I will fet down what comes from her, to fatisfie my remembrance the more ftrongly. Lady. Out! damned fpot; out, I fay why then, 'tis time to do't

one; two; hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie! a foldier, and afraid? what need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? yet who would have thought the old man to have had fo much blood in him?

Doct. Do you mark that ?

no

Lady. The Thane of Fife had a wife; where is fhe now; what will these hands ne'er be clean ? more o' that, my lord, no more o' that you mar all with this starting.

Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you fhould not.

Gent. She has spoke what the fhould not, I am fure of that heav'n knows, what she has known.

Lady. Here's the fmell of the blood ftill: all the perfumes of Arabia will not fweeten this little hand. Óh! oh! oh!

Dot. What a figh is there? the heart is forely charg'd.

Gent. I would not have fuch a heart in my bofom, for the dignity of the whole body. Doct. Well, well, well

Gent. Pray God, it be, Sir.

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: yet I have known those which have walk'd in their fleep, 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.

Doct. Even fo?

Lady. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate: come, come, come, come, give me your hand: what's done, cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed.[Ex. La.

Doct.

Doct. Will the go now to bed?

Gent. Directly.

Doct. Foul whifp'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 Phyfician.
God, God, forgive us all! Look after her ;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her; fo, good night.
My mind the'as mated, and amaz'd my fight.
I think, but dare not speak.

Gent. Good night, good Doctor.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to a Field, with a Wood at

distance.

Enter Menteth, Cathnefs, Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers.

Ment.

HE English Power is near, led on by Malcolm,
His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff.

Revenges burn in them : for their dear causes
Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm
Excite the mortified man.

Ang. Near Birnam-wood

Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.
Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his brother?
Len. For certain, Sir, he is not: I've a file
Of all the Gentry; there is Siward's fon, (24)

(24)

there is Siward's Son,

And many unruff'd Touths, that even now

Proteft their first of Manhood.] This unruff'd is a tacit Sophiftication put upon us by Mr. Pope, in his extraordinary Sagacity; implying, that Malcolm had many Soldiers in his Ranks too young to wear a Ruffe. This happy Conftruction might feduce One into an Error, who was not acquainted with that Gentleman's Spirit of Criticism. 'Tis true, the old Editions read -unruffe Youths; and our great Orbilius did not difcern that this was the antiquated way of spelling, unrough, i. e. fmooth-chin'd, imberbis. And our Author particularly delights in this Mode of Expreffion.

And