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Confound and swallow navigation up;
Though bladed corn be lodg’d, and trees blown down,
Though castles topple on their warders heads ;
Though palaces and pyramids do flope
Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
(21) Of nature's germins tumble all together,
Ev’n till destruction ficken ; answer me
To what I ask you.

SCENE IV. Malcolm's Character of himself.

Mal. But I have none; the king becoming graces, As justice, verity, temp?rance, stal leness, Bounty, persev'rance, 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 peace, confound All unity on earth.

Maid. Oh Scotland! Scotland!

Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak; I'm as I have spoken.

Macd. Fit to govern? No, not to live. Oh, nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant, bloody -Iceptered !! When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again! Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands aceurst, And does blafphe.ne his breed. Thy royal father Was a most fainted king; the queen that bore thee, Ofiner upon her knees than on her feet, (22) Dy'd every day she liv’d. Oh ! fare thee well!

These

(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'st upon thyself,
Have banish'd me from Scotland. Oh, my breast !
Thy hope ends here.

Mal. Macduff, this noble paffion,
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 fought to win me
Into his pow'r: and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous haste; but God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now
I put myself to thy direction, and
(23) Unspeak mine own detraction; here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For strangers to my nature.
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 firit false-speaking
Was this upon myself. What I am truly,
Is thine, and my poor country's, to cominand..

I am yet

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SCENE VI. An oppress'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 seen to smile :
Where fighs and groans, and shrieks that rend the air,
Are made, not mark'd; where violeni forrow seems
A modern ecítacy: the dead-man's knell
Is there scarce aik’d, for whom: and good mens' lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps,
Dying, or ere they ficken.

Macduff,

(23) See the whole scene..

Macduff, on the Murder of his wife and Children.

Rolle. 'Would I could answer
This comfort with the like! but I have words,
That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
Where hearing should not catch them.

Macd. What concern they?
The gen'ral cause? or is it a fee-grief,
Due to some fingle breast?

R. No mind, that's honest,
But in it Thures fome woe; tho’ the main part
Pertains to you alone.

Macd. If it be mine,
Keep it not froin me, quickly let me have it.

Rojo. 1 er not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
Which shall poffefs them with the heaviest found,
That erer yei i hey heard.

Macd. Hum ! I guess at it.

Rolle. Your castle is surpriz'd, your wife and babes
Savagely slaughter'd ; to relate the manner,
Were on the quarry of these murther'd deer
To add the death of you.

Mal. Merciful heav'n!
What inan! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
Give forrow words; the grief that does not speak,
Whispers the o'er-fraught he.rt, and bids it break.

Maid My children too?
Rolle. Wife, children, servants, all that could be

found. Mccd. And I must be from thence! my wife kill'd

too! Role. I've said.

Mal. Be comforted.
Let's make us med'eines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadiy grief.

Macd.

Macd. (24) He has no children.-

-All my pretty ones? Did you say all? what, all ? oh, hell-kite ! all ? What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, At one fell swoop?

Mal. Dispute it like a man.

Nacd. I hall do fo: But I muít also feel it as a inan. I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me: did heav'n look on, And would not take their part? finful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls; heav'n rest them now!

Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword, ler grief Convert to wrath : blunt not the heart, enrage

it.
Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue. But, gentle heav'n !
Cut short all intermislion: front to front;
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
Within my sword's length set him, if he 'Icape,
Then heav'n forgive him too!

Mal. This tune goes inanly;
Come, go we to the king, our power is ready ;
Our lack is nothing but our leave.

Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Put on their instruments. 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 ingrofied by his misfortune, and disregarding what Mulcolm says to him, he bursts out into this pathetic exprobriation of the tyrant ; Constance, in King John speaks thus to Pandolph,

He talks to me that never had a fon!

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Enter Lady Macbeth with a l'aper. Gent. Lo, you! here she comes! this is her very guise, and, upon my life, fast afleep; observe her, stand close.

Doct. How came she by that light?

Gint. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually, 'tis her command.

Dott. You see, her eyes are open.
Gent. Ay, but their sense is Thut.
Doct. What is it she does now? look how she rubs

her hands. Gent. It is an accustom’d action with her, to seenr thus washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.

Lady. Yet here's a spot.

Doct. Hark, she speaks. I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more ftrongly.

Lady. Out! damned spot; out, I say-one; two; why then 'tis time to do't Chell is murky. Fy, my lord, fy, a soldier, 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 so much blood in him ?

Docl. Do you mark that?

Lady. The Thane of Fife had a wife : where is slie now ? what, will these hands ne'er be clean?

-no 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. Here's whe.smell of the blood still : all the per

fumes

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