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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
Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings,
Be it their comfort,
'Would I could' answer This comfort with the like! But I have words, That would be howlid out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch 2 them. Macd.
What concern they? The general cause ? or is it a fee-grief,3 Due to some single breast? Rosse.
No mind, that's honest, But in it shares some woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone.
i Put off.
3 A grief that has a single owner.
If it be mine,
Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
Humph! I guess at it. Rosse. Your castle is surpriz'd; your wife, and
Macd. My children too?
Wife, children, servants, all
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.
Mgcd. He has no children. All my pretty ones?
Mal. Dispute it like a man.
I shall do so;
4 The game after it is killed.
I cannot but remember such things were,
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
This tune goes manly.
may ; The night is long, that never finds the day.
SCENE I. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.
Enter a Doctor of Physick, and a waiting Gentle
Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but can
5 All pause.
perceive no truth in your report. When was it she ast 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?
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 !6_Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier, and afear’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?
Ludy 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 o’that: 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 that: 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.