That would be howl'd out in the desert air, Macd. What concern they? The general cause? or is it a fee-grieft, Rosse. No mind, that's honest, But in it shares some woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone. Mucd. 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 surpriz'd; your wife, and babes, Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner, Mal. Merciful heaven! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak, Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. Macd. My children too? 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, * Catch. + A grief that has a single owner. The game after it is killed. Mal. Dispute it like a man. Macd. But I must also feel it as a man: I shall do so; I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me,-Did heaven look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now! Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue!-But, gentle heaven, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Mal. Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above P'ut on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may; The night is long, that never finds the day. * All pause. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. Dunsinane. A room in the castle. Enter a Doctor of Physick, and a waiting Gen. tlewoman. Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked ? Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night. gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again, return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say? Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her. Doct. You may, to me; and 'tis most meet you should. Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, having no witness to confirm my speech. Enter Lady Macbeth, with a taper. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. Doct. How came she by that light? Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually; 'tis her command. Doct. You see, her eyes are open. Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands. Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands; I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. Lady M. Yet here's a spot. Doct. Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say!-One; Two; Why, then 'tis time to do't:-Hell is murky!* -Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier, and afear'd? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?-Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Doct. Do you mark that? Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; Where is she now?-What, will these hands ne'er be clean iNo more o'that, my lord, no more o'that: you mar all with this starting. Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not. Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known. Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh! Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged, Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body. Doct. Well, well, well, Gent. 'Pray God it be, sir. Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds. Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night. * Dark. gown; look not so pale:-I tell you yet again, Ban. quo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave. Doct. Even so? Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand; What's done, cannot be undone: To bed, to bed, to bed. [Exit Lady Macbeth. Doct. Will she go now to bed? Gent. Directly. Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds Gent. Good night, good doctor. [Exeunt. SCENE 11. The country near Dunsinane. Enter, with drum and colours, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers. Ment. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff. *Confounded. A religious; an ascetic. |