Mal, What's the newest grief? Roffe. That of an hour's age doth hifs the fpeaker, Each minute teems a new one. Mard. How does my wife? Roffe. Why well. Macd. And all my children? Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace ? leave 'em. Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech. How goes it? Roffe. When I came hither to tranfport the tidings, Which was to my belief witnefs'd the rather, Mal. Be't their comfort We're coming thither. Gracious England hath That Christendom gives out. Roffe. Would I could anfwer This comfort with the like! But I have words, * The gen'ral caufe? or is it a fee-grief, Due to fome fingle breast? Reffe. No mind, that's honeft, But in it shares fome woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone. Macd. If it be mine, -fc-grief,] A peculiar for row; a grief that hath a fingle - VOL. VI. Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. Roffe. Let not your ears defpife my tongue for ever, Which shall poffefs them with the heaviest Sound, That ever 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 Quarry of thefe murther'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 have faid. Mal, Be comforted. Let's make us med'cines of our great Revenge, Macd. He has no children.-All my pretty ones? Mal. Difpute it like a Man. Macd. I fhall do fo, But I must also feel it as a Man. I cannot but remember fuch things were, That were moft precious to me. Did heav'n look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, He has no children.] It has been obferved by an anonymous critic, that this is not faid of Mac beth, whohadchildren,butof Malcolm, who having none, fuppofesa father can be fo eafily comforted. Con Convert to wrath. Blunt not the heart, enrage it. Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself, Mal. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the King, our Power is ready; Put on their inftruments. Receive what cheer you may; The night is long, that never finds the day. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. An Ante-chamber in Macbeth's Caftle. Enter a Dolor of Phyfick, and a Gentlewoman. DOCTOR. HAVE two nights watch'd with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it the last 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. Dot. A great peturbation in nature to receive at once the benefit of fleep, and do the effects of watching. In this flumbry agitation, befides her walking, Hh 2 and and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her fay? Gent. That, Sir, which I will not report after her. Dod. You may to me, and 'tis moft meet you should. Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, having no witnefs to confirm my speech, Enter Lady Macbeth with a Taper. Lo, you! here the comes. This is her very guife, and upon my life, faft afleep. Obferve her, ftand clofe. Doct. How came fhe by that light? Gent. Why, it stood by her. continually, 'tis her command. Do. You fee, her eyes are open, Gent. Ay, but their fenfe is fhut. She has light by her Dot. What is it fhe does now? Look how she rubs her hands. Gent. It is an accuftom'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. Dott. Hark, fhe fpeaks. I will fet down what comes from her, to fatisfy my remembrance the more ftrongly. Lady. Out! damned fpot; out, I fay-One; two; why then, 'tis time to do't-Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie a foidier 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 fo much blood in him? Dot. 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 mar all with this ftarting. Do&. Go to, go to, you have known what you fhould not.. Gent. Gent. She has fpoke what she should not, I am fure of that. Heav'n knows, what he has known. Lady. Here's the fmell of the blood ftill; all the perfumes of Arabia will not fweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh! Dot. 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. Dott. Well, well, well Gent. Pray God, it be, Sir. Dott. This difeafe is beyond my practice; yet I have known thofe which have walk'd 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. Do. 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 Ledy. Dot. Will the go now to bed? Dot. Foul whifp'rings are abroad; unnat'ral deeds 2 Gent. Good night, good Doctor. [Exeunt. Rather aftonished, confound |