By many of these trains hath sought to win me No less in truth than life: my first false speaking Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness, Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent? Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once, "Tis hard to reconcile. Enter a Doctor. Mal. Well; more anon. I pray you? Doct. Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched souls That stay his cure: their malady convinces 3 The great assay of art; but, at his touch, Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, They presently amend. Mal. I thank you, doctor. Macd. What's the disease he means? [Exit Doctor. 2 Over-hasty credulity. 3 Overpowers, subdues. Mal. 'Tis call'd the evil : A most miraculous work in this good king; 4 The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, And sundry blessings hang about his throne, Macd. Enter ROSSE. See, who comes here? Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not, Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. Mal. I know him now: Good God, betimes re move The means that make us strangers! Rosse. Sir, Amen. Macd. Stands Scotland where it did? Alas, poor country; Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the air, Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives + The coin called an Angel. Macd. Too nice, and yet too true! Mal. O, relation, What is the newest grief? Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker; Each minute teems a new one. Macd. Rosse. Why, well. Macd. Rosse. How does my wife? Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did leave them. Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; How goes it? Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings, Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour Mal. Be it their comfort, We are coming thither: gracious England hath That Christendom gives out. Rosse. Would I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words, Macd. What concern they? The general cause? or is it a fee-grief, 8 Rosse. No mind that's honest, But in it shares some woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone. 6 Put off. 7 Catch. 8 A grief that has a single owner. Macd. If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. ever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound Macd. Humph! I guess at it. Rosse. Your castle is surpriz'd; your wife, and babes, Savagely slaughter'd! to relate the manner, Merciful heaven! Mal. What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak, Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. Macd. My children too? Rosse. That could be found. Macd. Wife, children, servants, all And I must be from thence! My wife kill'd too? Rosse. I have said. 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 say, all?- O, hell-kite! - All? What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, At one fell swoop? Mal. Dispute it like a man. 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, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, 9 The game after it is killed. They were all struck for thee! naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now! Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue! heaven, But, gentle Cut short all intermission; front to front, This tune Mal. 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 Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may; The night is long, that never finds the day. ACT THE FIFTH. [Exeunt. SCENE I. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Enter a Doctor of Physick, and a waiting Gentle woman. Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked? |