Each way, and move.-I take my leave of you: L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. [Exit Rosse. 'L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead; And what will you do now? How will you live? Son. As birds do, mother. L. Macd. What, with worms and flies? Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. L. Macd. Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the net, nor lime, The pit-fall, nor the gin. Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is not dead, for all your saying. L. Macd. Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father? Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband? L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again. L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet i'faith, With wit enough for thee. Son. Was my father a traitor, mother? L. Macd. Ay, that he was. Son. What is a traitor? L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies. Son. And be all traitors, that do so? L. Macd. Every one that does so, is a traitor, and must be hanged. Son. And must they all be hanged, that swear and lie? L. Macd. Every one. Son. Who must hang them? L. Macd. Why, the honest men. · Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools: for there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men, and hang up them. L. Macd. Now God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father? Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father. L. Macd. Poor prattler! how thou talk'st. Enter a Messenger. Mess. 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: you will take a homely man's advice, If Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. I dare abide no longer. L. Macd. I have done no harm. Heaven preserve you! [Exit Messenger. Whither should I fly? But I remember now I am in this earthly world; where, to do harm,, Do I put up that womanly defence, To say, I have done no harm?What are these faces? Enter Murderers. Mur. Where is your husband? L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified, Where such as thou may'st find him. Mur. He's a traitor. [Stabbing him. Son. Thou ly'st, thou shag-ear'd villain. Mur. What, you egg? Young fry of treachery? Son. Run away, I pray you. He has kill'd me, mother: [Dies. [Exit Lady MACDUFF, crying murder, and pursued by the Murderers. SCENE III.—England. A room in the King's palace. Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF. Mal. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty. Let us rather Macd. As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out What I believe, I'll wail; Mal. What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance. This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest: you have lov'd him well; He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but some thing You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb, To appease an angry god. Macd. I am not treacherous. Mal. But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil, In an imperial charge. But 'crave your pardon; grace, Yet grace must still look so. Macd. I have lost my hopes. Mal. Perchance, even there, where I did find my doubts. 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, Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dares not check thee! wear thou thy wrongs, Thy 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 Mal. Be not offended: Macd. What should he be? Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I know That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth With my confineless harms. Macd. Not in the legions Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd In evils, to top Macbeth. Mal. I grant him bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name: But there's no bottom, none, All continent impediments would o'er-bear, |