The mere despair of surgery, he cures; The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, And sundry blessings hang about his throne, That speak him full of grace. Enter RossE. Macd. See, who comes here? Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not. Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. Mal. I know him now: Good God, betimes remove The means, that make us strangers! Rosse. Sir, Amen. Macd. Stands Scotland where it did? Rosse. Alas, poor country; Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where nothing, Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives Dying, or ere they sicken. Macd. O, relation, Too nice, and yet too true! Mal. What is the newest grief? Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker; Each minute teems a new one. Macd. How does my wife? Rosse. Why, well. Macd. And all my children? Rosse. Well too. Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did leave them. Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; How goes it? Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings, Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, Mal. Be it their comfort, We are coming thither: gracious England hath That Christendom gives out. Rosse. 'Would I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words, Macd. What concern they? The general cause? or is it a fee-grief, Due to some single breast? Rosse. No mind, that's honest, But in it shares some woe; though the main part Macd. 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, Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, To add the death of you. Mal. Merciful heaven!— What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all That could be found. Macd. And I must be from thence! My wife kill'd too? Rosse. I have said. Mal. Be comforted: 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, At one fell swoop? Mal. Dispute it like a man. Macd. I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man: 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, Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now! Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue!-But, gentle heaven, Cut short all intermission; front to front, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Mal. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the king; our power is ready; Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may; The night is long, that never finds the day. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I.-Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. Enter a Doctor of Physick, and a waiting Gentlewoman. 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? |