L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort:

I take my leave at once.

[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.

lie?

Son. And must they all be hanged, that swear and

L. Macd. Every one.

Son. Who must hang them?

L. Macd. Why, the honest men.

Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools: for

VOL. IV.

FF

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.
To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;
To do worse to you, were fell cruelty,

Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve

you!

I dare abide no longer.

L. Macd.

I have done no harm.

[Exit Messenger.

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?

faces?

Enter Murderers.

Mur. Where is your husband?

-What are these

L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified, Where such as thou may'st find him.

9

- in your state of honour I am perfect.] i. e. I am perfectly acquainted with your rank of honour.

Mal. But I have none: The king-becoming

graces,

As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perséverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them; but abound
In the division of each several crime,

Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,

Uproar the universal

All unity on earth.
Macd.

peace, confound

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-scepter'd,

When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?
Since that the truest issue of thy throne

By his own interdiction stands accurs'd,

And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king: the queen, that bore thee,
Oftner upon her knees than on her feet,

Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself,

Have banish'd me from Scotland.-O, my breast,
Thy hope ends here!

Mal.
Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul

Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
By many of these trains hath sought to win me
Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous haste:' But God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now

1 From over-credulous haste:] From over-hasty credulity.

I put myself to thy direction, and
Unspeak mine own detraction; here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman; never was forsworn;
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own;
At no time broke my faith; would not betray
The devil to his fellow; and delight

No less in truth, than life: my first false speaking
Was this upon myself: What I am truly,

Is thine, and my poor country's, to command:
Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach,
Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
All ready at a point, was setting forth:

Now we'll together; And the chance, of goodness,
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at

once,

'Tis hard to reconcile.

Enter a Doctor.

Mal. Well; more anon.-Comes the king forth, pray you?

I

Doct. Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched souls, That stay his cure: their malady convinces2 The great assay of art; but, at his touch, Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, They presently amend.

Mal.

"Tis call'd the evil:

Macd. What's the disease he means?
Mal.

A most miraculous work in this good king:
Which often, since my here-remain in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,

2

convinces-] i. e.

overpowers, subdues.

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,
And the rich East to boot.

Mal.

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.

Macd.

What should he be?

Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted,

That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd

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,
In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,

7 Thy title is affeer'd!] Affeer'd, a law term for confirm'd.