Macbeth. [Aside.] Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits :

The flighty purpose never is o'ertook

Unless the deed go with it: from this moment

The very firstlings of my heart shall be

The firstlings of my hand. And even now,

To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done: The castle of Macduff I will surprise;

Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword

His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls

That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;
This deed I'll do before this purpose cool.

But no more sights!-Where are these gentlemen ?
Come, bring me where they are.

SCENE II. Fife. Macduff's castle.

Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and Ross.

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[Exeunt.

Lady Macduff. What had he done, to make him fly the land? Ross. You must have patience, madam.

Lady Macduff.

He had none:

His flight was madness: when our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors.

Ross.

You know not

Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.

Lady Macduff. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion and his titles in a place

From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;

He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,

The most diminutive of birds, will fight,

Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All is the fear and nothing is the love;
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason.

Ross.

My dearest coz,

I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows

ΙΟ

The fits o' the season. I dare not speak much further;
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors

And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear,
But float upon a wild and violent sea

Each way and move.

Shall not be long but

I take my leave of you:

I'll be here again:

Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before. My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!

Lady Macduff. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
Ross. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace and your discomfort :
I take my leave at once.

Lady Macduff.

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[Exit.

Sirrah, your father's dead: 30
How will you live?

And what will you do now?

Son. As birds do, mother.
Lady Macduff.

What, with worms and flies?

Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

Lady M. Poor bird! thou 'ldst never fear the net nor lime, The pitfall nor the gin.

Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.

My father is not dead, for all your saying.

Lady M. Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou do for a father? Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband?

Lady Macduff. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

4I

Lady M. Thou speak'st with all thy wit, and yet, i' faith, With wit enough for thee.

Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?

Lady Macduff. Ay, that he was.

Son. What is a traitor?

Lady Macduff. Why, one that swears and lies.

Son. And be all traitors that do so?

Lady Macduff. Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.

Son. And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? Lady Macduff. Every one.

Son. Who must hang them?

Lady Macduff. Why, the honest men.

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Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them.

Lady Macduff. Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father?

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Son. If he were dead, you'ld weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.

Lady Macduff. Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!

Enter a Messenger.

Messenger. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, Though in your state of honour I am perfect.

I doubt some danger does approach you nearly:
If you will take a homely man's advice,

Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
To fright you thus, methinks I am too savage;
To do worse to you were fell cruelty,
Which is too nigh your person.
I dare abide no longer.

Lady Macduff.

I have done no harm.

Heaven preserve you!

Whither should I fly?

But I remember now

I am in this earthly world, where to do harm

Is often laudable, to do good sometime
Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas,.
Do I put up that womanly defence,

To say I have done no harm?

Enter Murderers.

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[Exit.

What are these faces?

First Murderer. Where is your husband?

Lady Macduff. I hope, in no place so unsanctified Where such as thou mayst find him.

First Murderer.

Son. Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!

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He's a traitor.

SCENE III. England. Before the King's palace.

Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF.

Malcolm. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty.

Let us rather

Macduff.
Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men
Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new morn
New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds

As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out

Like syllable of dolour.

Malcolm.

What I believe, I'll wail,

What know, believe; and what I can redress,

As I shall find the time to friend, I will.

What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.

This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you have loved him well;

ΙΟ

He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but something

You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom

To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb

To appease an angry god.

Macduff. I am not treacherous.

Malcolm.

But Macbeth is.

A good and virtuous nature may recoil

In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon; 20 That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose:

Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell:

Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.

Macduff.

I have lost my hopes.

doubts.

Malcolm. Perchance even there where I did find my
Why in that rawness left you wife and child,
Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,
Without leave-taking? I pray you,

Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,

But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just,
Whatever I shall think.

Macduff.

Bleed, bleed, poor country!

Great tyranny!. lay thou thy basis sure,

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For goodness dare not check thee: wear thou thy wrongs;

The title is affeer'd. Fare thee well, lord:

I would not be the villain that thou think'st

For the whole space that 's in the tyrant's grasp,

And the rich East to boot.

Malcolm.

Be not offended:

I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;
It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds: I think withal
There would be hands uplifted in my right;
And here from gracious England have I offer
Of goodly thousands: but for all this,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before,
More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed.

Macduff.

What should he be?

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