Ross. Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner 200 Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, To add the death of you. Mal. Merciful heaven! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Ross. That could be found. Wife, children, servants, all 210 Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. Macd. He has no children.- All my pretty ones? Did you say, all? — O, hell-kite! — All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop? Mal. Dispute it like a man. Macd. But I must also feel it as a man: I shall do so; I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me. — Did heaven look on, Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue! — But, gentle heavens, Cut short all intermission; front to front Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Mal. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the king; our power is ready; Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may; The night is long that never finds the day. [Exeunt. 220 230 ACT V SCENE I Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a waiting Gentlewoman Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked? 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. Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at 10 once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbery agitation, besides 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. Doct. 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 asleep. Observe her; stand close. 20 Doct. How came she by that light? Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually; 'tis her command. Doct. You see her eyes are open. Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. Doct. What is it she does now? Look how she rubs her hands. Gent. It is an accustomed action with her to seem thus washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. Lady M. Yet here's a spot. Doct. Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. Lady M. Out, damnèd spot! out, I say! - One; two: why, then, 'tis time to do't. - Hell is murky! - Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? 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 so much blood in him! 30 |