As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should All unity on earth. Macd. O Scotland! Scotland! Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak: I am as I have spoken. Macd. Fit to govern! No, not to live.-O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred, By his own interdiction stands accurs'd, And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal father Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! Have banish'd me from Scotland.-O, my breast, Mal. Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts The devil to his fellow; and delight No less in truth, than life: my first false speaking Is thine, and my poor country's, to command: Now we'll together; And the chance, of goodness, Enter a Doctor. Mal. Well; more anon.-Comes the king forth, I pray you? Doct. Ay, sir:-there are a crew of wretched souls, That stay his cure; their malady convinces The great assay of art; but, at his touch, Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, They presently amend. Mal. I thank you, doctor. [Exit Doctor. Macd. What is the disease he means? "Tis call'd the evil : A most miraculous work in this good king; The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, And sundry blessings hang about his throne, That speak him full of grace. 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 remove 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, Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the air, Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives 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. How does my wife? And all my children? Rosse. Well too. Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? them. Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; How goes it? Mal. E An older, and a better soldier, none, 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 free-grief, Rosse. 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 sound, That ever yet they heard. Macd. Humph! I guess at it. Rosse. Your castle is surpris'd; your wife, and babes, Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner, 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; 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. Be comforted: Mal. 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, Mal. Dispute it like a man. Macd. I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me.-Did heaven look on, Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now! Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Mal. Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may; [Exeunt. |