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Was this upon myself: What I am truly,
AN OPPRESSED COUNTRY.
AND CHILDREN. Rosse.
'Would I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words That would be howld out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch + them. Macd.
What concern they? The general cause? or is it a fee-grieft, Due to some single breast? Rosse,
No mind, that's honest,
If it be mine,
Rosse. Letnot your ears despise my tongue for ever,
Humph! I guess at it.
What, man? ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
Macd. My children too?
Wife, children, servants, all
And I must be from thence! My wife killed 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?
Mal. Dispute it like a man.
I shall do so;
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, Cut short all intermission*; front to front Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too! Mal.
This tune goes manly. 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 The night is long, that never finds the day. (may;
* All pause.
SCENE. Enter Lady Macbeth, with a Taper.
Gent. 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.
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* ! -Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afеar'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? -No more o' that, my lord, no more oʻthat: 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 tbat: 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.
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 nightgown; look not so pale :-I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave.
Doct. Even so ?
Lady M. To bed, to będ; 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.
DESPISED OLD AGE.
I have liv'd long enough: my way of life
I must not look to have ; but, in their stead,
DISEASES OF THE MIND INCURABLE.
REFLECTIONS ON LIFE.
'Tis the curse of service ;
IAGO'S DISPRAISE OF HONESTY.