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Macd. Stands Scotland where it did?

Roffe. Alas poor country, Almost afraid to know it felf. 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 rend che air Are made, not mark'd; where violent forrow seems A modern ecstasie : the dead-man's knell Is there scarce ask'd, for whom? and good mens lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying or e'er they sicken.

Macd. 7/Relation, oh!" too nice, and yet coo true. Mal. What is the newest grief?

Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker,
Each minute teems a new one.

Macd. How does my wife?
Rolle. Why, well.
Macd. And all my children?
Rolle. Well too.
Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?
Rose. No, they were well at peace when I did leave 'em,
Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech : how goes it?

Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings
Which I have heavily born, there ran a rumour
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;
Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
Would create soldiers, 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 soldier, none
That christendom gives out.

Rose. Would I could answer
This comfort with the like! But I have words

That 7 Oh relation!

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That would be howld out in the defart air,
Where hearing should not catch them.

Macd. What? concern they
The gen'ral cause? or is it a fee-grief
Due to some single brealt?

Rose. No mind that's honest
But in it shares some woe, though the main part
Pertains to you alone.

Macd. If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
Which shall possess them with the heaviest found
That ever yet they heard.

Macd. Hum! I guess at it.

Roffe. Your castle is furpriz'd, your wife and babes
Savagely Naughter'd; to relate the manner,
Were on the quarry of these murther d deer
To add the death of you.

Mal. Merciful heav'n!
What, man! ne'er pull your hrat 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!.
Rolle. Wite, children, servants, all that could be found.
Macd. And I must be from thence! my wife kill'd too!
Rolle. I've said.

Mal. Be comforted.
Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.

Macd. He has no children.
*/What, all my pretty ones? did you fay all?
What, all?a

Mál. Endure it like a man.


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Macd. I shall :
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? sinful Macduf,
They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits but for mine
Fell Naughter on their souls: heav'n reft 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 my felf ; Within my sword's length set him, if he 'scape, 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 shaking, and the powers above Put on their inftruments. Receive what cheer you may The night is long that never finds the day. [Excum.

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An Anti-chamber in Macbeth's Castle.

Enter'a Doktor of Physick, and a Gentlewoman,


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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 Neep.

Dott. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit of Neep, and do the effects of watching. In this Numbry 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.
Doet. 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 she comes: this is her very guise, and, upon
my life, fast alleep; observe her, stand close.
Doet. How came she by that light?

Gent. Why, it stood by her: The has light by her continually, 'tis her command.

Dot. You see her eyes are open.
Gent. Ay, but their fenfe is shut.

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

Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seem 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 satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.

Lady. Out! damned spot; out, I lay ------ one; two; why then 'tis time to do't — hell is murky. Fre, my Lord, fie, a soldier, 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 so much blood in him? .

Doct. Do you mark that?

Lady. The Thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? what, will these hands ne'er be clean? — no more oʻ that, my Lord, no more o' that: you marr all with starting LI 2


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Dom. 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 blood still: all the perfume of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh ! oh! oh!

Doet. What a sigh is there? the heart is forely chargʻd,

Gent, I would not have such a heart in my bolom, for the dignity of the whole body.

Doct. Well, well, well
Gent. Pray God it be, Sir.

Do£t. This disease is beyond my practice: yet I hare known those which have walkt in their neep, who have died holily in their beds.

Lady. Walh your hands, put on your night-gown, look not so pale - I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave.

DoEt. Even so ?

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. [Exit.

Doet. Will she go now to bed?
Gent. Directly.

Doct. Foul whisprings are abroad; unnatral deeds
Do breed unnat'ral troubles. Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the Divine than the Physician,
Good God forgive us all! Look after her,
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her ; so good-night.
My mind she'as mated, and amaz’d my fight.
I think, but dare not speak.
Gent. Good-night, good Doctor.



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