Mal. My country-man; but yet I know him not.
Macd. My ever-gentle coufin, welcome hither.

Mal. I know him now.

Good God betimes remove

The means that make us ftrangers!

Roffe. Sir, Amen.

Mal: Stands Scotland where it did?

Roffe. Alas poor country,

Almoft afraid to know it felf. It cannot

Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,
But who knows nothing, is once feen to fmile:
Where fighs and groans, and fhrieks that rend the air
Are made, not mark'd; where violent forrow feems
A modern ecftafie: the dead-man's knell

Is there scarce afk'd, for whom? and good mens lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps,

Dying or e'er they ficken.

Macd. Relation, oh! too nice, and yet too true.
Mal. What is the newest grief?

Roffe. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker,
Each minute teems a new one.

Macd. How does my wife?

Roffe. Why, well.

Macd. And all my children?
Roffe. Well too.

Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?
Roffe. No, they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.
Macd. Be not a niggard of your fpeech: how goes it?
Roffe. When I came hither to transport the tidings
Which I have heavily born, there ran a rumour
Of many worthy fellows that were out,
Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
For that I faw the tyrant's power a-foot;
Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
Would create foldiers, and make women fight,
To doff their dire diftreffes.'

Mal. Be't their comfort

We're coming thither: gracious England hath
Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men ;
An older, and a better foldier, none

That chriftendom gives out.

Roffe.

Roffe. Would I could answer

This comfort with the like! But I have words
That would be howl'd out in the defart air,
Where hearing fhould not catch them.
Macd. What? concern they

The gen'ral caufe? or is it a fee-grief
Due to fome fingle breast?

Roffe. No mind that's honeft.

But in it shares fome woe, though the main part
Pertains to you alone.

Macd. If it be mine,

Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

Roffe. Let not your ears defpife my tongue for ever,
Which poffefs them with the heaviest found
That all p
Iever yet they heard.

Macd. Hum! I guess at it.

Roffe. Your caftle is furpriz'd, your wife and babes
Savagely flaughter'd; to relate the manner,
Were on the querry of thefe murder'd deer
To add the death of you.

Mal. Merciful heav'n!

What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows
Give forrow words; the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
Macd. My children too!

Roffe. Wife, children, fervants, all that could be found.
Macd. And I must be from thence! my wife kill'd too!
Roffe. I've faid.

Mal. Be comforted.,

Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge,

To cure this deadly grief.

Macd. He has no children.

What, all my pretty ones? did you fay all?

What, all? #

Mal. Endure it like a man.

Macd. I fhall :

.....

oh hell-kite! what, all?

What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,

At one fell fwoop?

Mal. Endure it, &c.

1

"

But

But I muft alfo feel it as a man.

I cannot but remember fuch things were,

That were most precious to me: did heav'n look on
And would not take their part? finful Macduff,
They were all truck for thee! naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits but for mine

Fell flaughter on their fouls: heav'n reft them now! Mal. Be this the whetstone of your fword; let grief Convert to wrath, blunt not the heart, enrage it.

Macd. O, could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue. But gentle heav'n!
Cut fhort all intermiffion: front to front

Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and my felf;
Within my fword's length fet him, if he 'fcape,
Then heav'n 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 fhaking, and the powers above

Put on their inftruments. Receive what cheer you may;
The night is long that never finds the day.

ACT V. SCENE I.~

An Anti-chamber in Macbeth's Caftle,

[Exeunt.

Enter a Doctor of Phyfick, and a Gentlewoman. Have two nights watch'd with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it fhe laft walk'd?

Gent. Since his Majesty went into the field, I have feen her rife from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, afterwards feal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most faft fleep.

Doc. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit of fleep, and do the effects of watching. In this flumbry agitation, befides her walking, and other actual performances, what (at any time) have you heard her fay?

Gent. That, Sir, which I will not report after her. Doct. You may to me, and 'tis moft meet you should.

Gent.

C

Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, having no witness to confirm my speech.

Enter Lady Macbeth with a taper.

Lo you! here he comes: this is her very guife, and, upon my life, fast asleep; obferve her, ftand clofe.

Doct. How came fhe by that light?

Gent. Why, it ftood by her: fhe has light by her continually, 'tis her command.

Doct. You fee her eyes are open.

Gent. Ay, but their fenfe is fhut.

Doct. What is it she does now? look how the rubs her hands.

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

Lady. Yet here's a spot.

one; two;

Doct. Hark, the fpeaks. I will fet down what comes from her, to fatisfy my remembrance the more strongly. Lady. Out! damn'd fpot; out, I faywhy then 'tis time to do't- -hell is murky. Fie, my Lord, fie, a foldier, 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?

Doct. Do you mark that?

Lady. The Thane of Fife had a wife; where is the now? what, will thefe hands ne'er be clean?-no more o' that, my Lord, no more o' that: you marr all with starting. Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you should

Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am fure of that: heav'n knows what she has known.

Lady. Here's the fmell of blood ftill: all the perfumes of Arabia will not fweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh! Doct. What a figh is there? the heart is forely charg'd. Gent. I would not have fuch a heart in my bofom, for the dignity of the whole body.

Doct. Well, well, well-
Gent. Pray God it be, Sir.

Doct. This difeafe is beyond my practice: yet I have known those which have walkt in their fleep, who have died holily in their beds.

Lady. Wash your hands, put on your night-gown, look not fo pale- -I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried;

he cannot come out of his grave.

Doct. Even fo?

Lady. To bed, to bed; 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. [Exit. Doct. Will the go now to bed?

Gent. Directly.

Doct. Foul whifp'rings are abroad; unnatʼral deeds
Do breed unnat'ral troubles. Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will difcharge their fecrets.
More needs the the Divine than the Phyfician.
Good God forgive us all! Look after her,
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And ftill keep eyes upon her; fo good-night.
My mind fhe'as mated, and amaz'd my fight.
I think, but dare not speak.

Gent. Good-night, good Doctor.

SCENE II.

A Field with a Wood at a diftance.

[Exeunt.

Enter Menteth, Cathnefs, Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers. Ment. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff.

Revenges burn in them: for their dear caufes

Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm

Excite the mortified man.

Ang. Near Birnam wood

Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. Cath. Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother? Len. For certain, Sir, he is not: I've a file

Of all the gentry; there is Siward's fon,

And many unrough youths, that even now
Proteft their firft of manhood.

Ment. What does the tyrant ?

Cath. Great Dunfinane he strongly fortifies ;
YOL. VIII,

M

Some