Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF.
1 Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
2 Weep our sad bosoms empty.
Let us rather
3 Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men
4 Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom. Each new morn
5 New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows
6 Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
7 As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out
8 Like syllable of dolour.
What I believe I'll wail,
9 What know believe, and what I can redress,
10 As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
11 What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.
12 This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
13 Was once thought honest; you have loved him well;
14 He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young, but something
15 You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom
16 To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb
17 To appease an angry god.
18 I am not treacherous.
But Macbeth is.
19 A good and virtuous nature may recoil
20 In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon;
21 That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose:
22 Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;
23 Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
24 Yet grace must still look so.
I have lost my hopes.
25 Perchance even there where I did find my doubts.
26 Why in that rawness left you wife and child,
27 Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,
28 Without leave-taking? I pray you,
29 Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
30 But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just,
31 Whatever I shall think.
Bleed, bleed, poor country!
32 Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,
33 For goodness dare not check thee; wear thou thy wrongs,
34 The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord:
35 I would not be the villain that thou think'st
36 For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
37 And the rich East to boot.
Be not offended:
38 I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
39 I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;
40 It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
41 Is added to her wounds. I think withal
42 There would be hands uplifted in my right;
43 And here from gracious England have I offer
44 Of goodly thousands. But, for all this,
45 When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
46 Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
47 Shall have more vices than it had before,
48 More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,
49 By him that shall succeed.
What should he be?
50 It is myself I mean; in whom I know
51 All the particulars of vice so grafted
52 That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
53 Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state
54 Esteem him as a lamb, being compared
55 With my confineless harms.
Not in the legions
56 Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd
57 In evils to top Macbeth.
I grant him bloody,
58 Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
59 Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin
60 That has a name; but there's no bottom, none,
61 In my voluptuousness. Your wives, your daughters,
62 Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up
63 The cistern of my lust, and my desire
64 All continent impediments would o'erbear
65 That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth
66 Than such an one to reign.
67 In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
68 The untimely emptying of the happy throne
69 And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
70 To take upon you what is yours. You may
71 Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
72 And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.
73 We have willing dames enough; there cannot be
74 That vulture in you, to devour so many
75 As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
76 Finding it so inclined.
With this, there grows
77 In my most ill-composed affection such
78 A stanchless avarice that, were I king,
79 I should cut off the nobles for their lands,
80 Desire his jewels and this other's house:
81 And my more-having would be as a sauce
82 To make me hunger more; that I should forge
83 Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
84 Destroying them for wealth.
85 Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root
86 Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been
87 The sword of our slain kings. Yet do not fear;
88 Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will
89 Of your mere own. All these are portable,
90 With other graces weigh'd.
91 But I have none. The king-becoming graces,
92 As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
93 Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
94 Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
95 I have no relish of them, but abound
96 In the division of each several crime,
97 Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
98 Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
99 Uproar the universal peace, confound
100 All unity on earth.
O Scotland, Scotland!
101 If such a one be fit to govern, speak.
102 I am as I have spoken.
Fit to govern!
103 No, not to live. O nation miserable,
104 With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,
105 When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
106 Since that the truest issue of thy throne
107 By his own interdiction stands accursed,
108 And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father
109 Was a most sainted king; the queen that bore thee,
110 Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,
111 Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
112 These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself
113 Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,
114 Thy hope ends here!
Macduff, this noble passion,
115 Child of integrity, hath from my soul
116 Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts
117 To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
118 By many of these trains hath sought to win me
119 Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me
120 From over-credulous haste. But God above
121 Deal between thee and me! for even now
122 I put myself to thy direction, and
123 Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure
124 The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
125 For strangers to my nature. I am yet
126 Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,
127 Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,
128 At no time broke my faith, would not betray
129 The devil to his fellow and delight
130 No less in truth than life. My first false speaking
131 Was this upon myself. What I am truly,
132 Is thine and my poor country's to command:
133 Whither indeed, before thy here-approach,
134 Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
135 Already at a point, was setting forth.
136 Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness
137 Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?
138 Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
139 'Tis hard to reconcile.
Enter a DOCTOR.
140 Well, more anon.Comes the King forth, I pray you?
141 Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls
142 That stay his cure. Their malady convinces
143 The great assay of art; but at his touch
144 Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand
145 They presently amend.
I thank you, doctor.
146 What's the disease he means?
'Tis call'd the evil:
147 A most miraculous work in this good king;
148 Which often, since my here-remain in England,
149 I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
150 Himself best knows; but strangely-visited people,
151 All swoll'n and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
152 The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
153 Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
154 Put on with holy prayers, and 'tis spoken,
155 To the succeeding royalty he leaves
156 The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
157 He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,
158 And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
159 That speak him full of grace.
See who comes here.
160 My countryman; but yet I know him not.
161 My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.
162 I know him now. Good God betimes remove
163 The means that makes us strangers!
164 Stands Scotland where it did?
Alas, poor country!
165 Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot
166 Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,
167 But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
168 Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air
169 Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
170 A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell
171 Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives
172 Expire before the flowers in their caps,
173 Dying or ere they sicken.
174 Too nice, and yet too true!
What's the newest grief?
175 That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker;
176 Each minute teems a new one.
How does my wife?
177 Why, well.
And all my children?
178 The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?
179 No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.
180 Be not a niggard of your speech; how goes't?
181 When I came hither to transport the tidings,
182 Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
183 Of many worthy fellows that were out;
184 Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
185 For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot.
186 Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
187 Would create soldiers, make our women fight,
188 To doff their dire distresses.
Be't their comfort
189 We are coming thither. Gracious England hath
190 Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men;
191 An older and a better soldier none
192 That Christendom gives out.
Would I could answer
193 This comfort with the like! But I have words
194 That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
195 Where hearing should not latch them.
What concern they?
196 The general cause? or is it a fee-grief
197 Due to some single breast?
No mind that's honest
198 But in it shares some woe; though the main part
199 Pertains to you alone.
If it be mine,
200 Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.
201 Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
202 Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
203 That ever yet they heard.
Humh! I guess at it.
204 Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes
205 Savagely slaughter'd. To relate the manner,
206 Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
207 To add the death of you.
208 What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
209 Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak
210 Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.
211 My children too?
Wife, children, servants, all
212 That could be found.
And I must be from thence!
213 My wife kill'd too?
I have said.
214 Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,
215 To cure this deadly grief.
216 He has no children. All my pretty ones?
217 Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?
218 What, all my pretty chickens and their dam
219 At one fell swoop?
220 Dispute it like a man.
I shall do so;
221 But I must also feel it as a man:
222 I cannot but remember such things were,
223 That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,
224 And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
225 They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,
226 Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
227 Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now!
228 Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
229 Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
230 O, I could play the woman with mine eyes
231 And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens,
232 Cut short all intermission. Front to front
233 Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
234 Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
235 Heaven forgive him too!
This tune goes manly.
236 Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
237 Our lack is nothing but our leave; Macbeth
238 Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
239 Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may,
240 The night is long that never finds the day.