to, and not stand to: in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him. Macd. I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. Port. That it did, sir, i' the very throat o' me: but I requited him for his lie; and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him. Macd. Is thy master stirring? Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes. Re-enter MACBETH. Good-morrow, both! Len. Good-morrow, noble sir! Macb. Not yet. I'll bring you to him. Macd. I know this is a joyful trouble to you; But yet 'tis one. Macb. The labour we delight in physics pain. This is the door. [Exit MACDUFF. He does: he did appoint so. For 'tis my limited service. Len. The night has been unruly: where we lay, Of dire combustion and confus'd events, New hatch'd to the woeful time: the obscure bird Macb. "Twas a rough night. Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it. Re-enter MACDUFF. Macd. O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee! Macb., Len. What's the matter? Macd. Confusion now hath made his master-piece! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence The life o' the building. Mal. O, by whom? They star'd, and were distracted; no man's life Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them. Macd. Wherefore did you so? Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and furious. Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: The expedition of my violent love Out-ran the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan, And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature Macd. Look to the lady. Mal. Help me hence, ho! Why do we hold our tongues, That most may claim this argument for ours? Don. What should be spoken here, where our fate, Our tears are not yet brew'd. And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet, And question this most bloody piece of work, Of treasonous malice. Macb. Let's briefly put on manly readiness, And meet i' the hall together. All. Well contented. [Exeunt all but MAL. and DON. [Exer Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last, A falcon, towering in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd. Ross. And Duncan's horses,-a thing most strange an certain, Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, Macd. Why, see you not? Ross. Is't known who did this more than bloody deed? Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slain. Ross. What good could they pretend? Macd. Alas, the day! They were suborn'd: Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's two sons, Ross. 'Gainst nature still: Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Thine own life's means!-Then 'tis most like, Macd. He is already nam'd; and gone to Scone Ross. Where is Duncan's body? Macd. Carried to Colme-kill, The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, And guardian of their bones. Ross. Will you to Scone? Well, I will thither. Macd. No, cousin, I'll to Fife. Macd. Well, may you see things well done there,―adieu!— Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! Ross. Farewell, father. Old M. God's benison go with you; and with those That would make good of bad, and friends of foes! [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I.-FORRES. A Room in the Palace. Enter BANQUO. Ban. Thou hast it now,-king, Cawdor, Glamis, all As the weird women promis'd; and, I fear, Thou play'dst most foully for 't; yet it was said But that myself should be the root and father And set me up in hope? But, hush; no more. |