There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny, 'tis the King's. My robe, I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, WOL. So I have. Farewell The hopes of court! My hopes in Heaven do dwell. SHAKSPEARE. LEAR. BLOW winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, blow! You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! Singe my white head. And thou, all-shaking thunder, Rumble thy belly full, spit fire, spout rain! That have with two pernicious daughters join'd That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, Unwhipp'd of justice! Hide thee, thou bloody hand; Has practis'd on man's life.-Close pent-up guilts, -I am a man, SHAKSPEARE. CHAPTER XXII. MACBETH'S SOLILOQUY. Is this a dagger which I see before me, Th' handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going, Mine eyes are made the fools o' th' other senses, Thus to mine eyes.-Now o'er one half the world Whose howl's his watch,) thus with his stealthy pace, The very stones prate of my where-about; Which now suits with it.—While I threat, he lives→ SHAKSPEARE. CHAPTER XXIII. MACDUFF, MALCOLM, AND 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 makes us strangers! ROSSE. MACD. Sir, Amen. 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 whom: and good men's lives Dying or e'er they sicken. MACD. Oh, relation Too nice, and yet too true! MAL. What's 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 ROSSE. Well too. children? MACD. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? ROSSE. No; they were at peace when I did leave 'em. MACD. Be not a niggard of your speech: how goes it? ROSSE. When I came hither to transport the tidings, Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour Of many worthy fellows that were out, MAL. Be't their comfort We're coming thither: gracious England hath ROSSE. Would I could answer This comfort with the like; but I have words The gen❜ral cause? or is it a free grief, Rosse. No mind that's honest, But in it shares some wo; though the main part Pertains to you alone. 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. Hum! I guess at it. Rosse. Your castle is surpris'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 Heav'n! 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. MAL. I've said. 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! MACD. I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man. I cannot but remember such things were, Did Heav'n look on And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, Fell slaughter on their souls. Heav'n rest them now! MACD. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue. But, gentle Heav'n! Cut short all intermission: front to front, Bring thou this fichd of Scotland and myself; MAL. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the King, our power is ready; 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. SHAKSPEARE. CHAPTER XXIV. ANTONY'S SOLILOQUY OVER CÆSAR'S BODY. O PARDON me, thou bleeding piece of earth! |