Confound and fwallow navigation up; Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown down, Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure To what I ask you. SCENE IV. Malcolm's Character of himself. Mal. But I have none; the king becoming graces, Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I fhould All unity on earth. Macd. Oh Scotland! Scotland! Mal. If fuch a one be fit to govern, speak; I'm as I have spoken. Macd. Fit to govern? No, not to live. Oh, nation miferable, And does blafpheme his breed. Thy royal father (22) Dy'd every day the liv'd. Oh! fare thee well! Thefe (21) See King Lear, p. 150. n. 16.. (22) Dy'd, &c.] This is plainly taken from St. Paul,, I dia daily. These evils thou repeat'ft upon thyself, Have banifh'd me from Scotland. Thy hope ends here. Oh, my breast! Mal. Macduff, this noble paffion, Child of integrity, hath from my foul Wip'd the black fcruples; reconcil'd my thoughts Devilish Macbeth By many of these trains hath fought to win me (23) Unfpeak mine own detraction; here abjure No less in truth than life: my first falfe-speaking SCENE VI. An opprefs'd Country. Alas, poor country! Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once feen to smile: Where fighs and groans, and fhrieks that rend the air, Are made, not mark'd; where violent forrow feems A modern ecítacy: the dead-man's knell Is there scarce aík'd, for whom: and good mens' lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying, or ere they ficken. (a3) See the whole scene.. Macduff, Macduff, on the Murder of his Wife and Children. Roffe. 'Would I could answer This comfort with the like! but I have words, The gen'ral caufe? or is it a fee-grief, Roffe. No mind, that's honeft, But in it fhares fome woe; tho' the main part Macd. If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. Roffe. er not your ears defpife my tongue for ever, Which fhall poffefs them with the heaviest found, That ever yet they heard. Macd. Hum! I guess at it. Roffe. Your caftle is furpriz'd, your wife and babes Savagely flaughter'd; to relate the manner, Were on the quarry of thefe murther'd deer To add the death of you. Mal. Merciful heav'n! What man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Roffe. Wife, children, fervants, all that could be found. Mecd. And I must be from thence! my wife kill'd too! Roffe. I've faid. Mal. Be comforted. Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. Macd. Macd. (24) He has no children. ones? -All my pretty Did you say all? what, all? oh, hell-kite! all? Mal. Difpute it like a man. Macd. I shall do fo: But I must alfo feel it as a man. I cannot but remember fuch things were, Fell flaughter on their fouls; heav'n rest them now! Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; Mal. This tune goes manly; Come, go we to the king, our power is ready; Macbeth Is ripe for fhaking, and the powers above Put on their inftruments. Receive what cheer you may; The night is long that never finds the day. [Exeunt. ACT (24) He has, &c.] Nothing can be more natural than this reflection: the father's thoughts are wholly ingroffed by his misfortune, and difregarding what Malcolm fays to him, he burfts out into this pathetic exprobriation of the tyrant; Conftance, in King John fpeaks thus to Pandolph, He talks to me that never had a fon! 1 ACT V. SCENE I. Enter Lady Macbeth with a Taper. Gent. Lo, you! here fhe comes! this is her very guife, and, upon my life, fast afleep; observe her, stand clofe. Doct. How came fhe by that light? Gent. Why, it flood by her: fhe has light by her continually, 'tis her command. Doct. You fee, her eyes are open. Gent. Ay, but their fenfe is fhut. Doct. What is it fhe does now? look how the rubs her hands. Gent. It is an accustom❜d action with her, to feemr thus washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. Lady. Yet here's a fpot. Doct. Hark, the fpeaks. I will fet down what comes from her, to fatisfy my remembrance the more ftrongly. Lady. Out! damned fpot; out, I fay-one; two; why then 'tis time to do't- hell is murky. Fy, my lord, fy, a foldier, and afraid? 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 fo much blood in him? Doct. Do you mark that ? Lady. The Thane of Fife had a wife: where is the now? what, will thefe hands ne'er be clean ?————————— no more o'that, my lord, no more o'that you mar alk with this ftarting. : Doct. Go to, go to, you have known what you fhould not. Gent. She has fpoke what the fhould not, I am fure of that: heaven knows, what she has known. Lady. Here's the. fmell of the blood ftill: all the per- fumes |