Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with!

Lady M.

Think of this, good peers,

But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.

Mach. What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The armed rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger;
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble: or be alive again,
And dare me to the desert with thy sword;
If trembling I inhabit then,* protest me

The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow !
Unreal mockery, hence!

[Ghost vanishes.

Why, so being gone,

I am a man again. Pray you, sit still.

Lady M. You have displaced the mirth, broke the

good meeting,

With most admired disorder.

Macb.

Can such things be,

And overcome us like a summer's cloud,

Without our special wonder? You make me strange

Even to the disposition that I owe,

When now I think you can behold such sights,

And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,

When mine is blanched with fear.

Ross.

What sights, my lord?

Lady M. I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and Question enrages him. At once, good night : [worse; Stand not upon the order of your going,

But go at once.

Len.

Good night; and better health

Attend his majesty !

Lady M.

A kind good night to all!

[Exeunt all but Macbeth and Lady M.

If trembling I inhabit then. Possibly meaning if then I stay like a coward in the house.

Macb. It will have blood; they say, blood will have

blood :

Stones have been known to move and trees to speak;
Augurs* and understood relations have

By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth
The secret'st man of blood. What is the night?

Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

Mach. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person At our great bidding?

Lady M.

Did you send to him, sir?
Macb. I hear it by the way; but I will send :
There's not a one of them but in his house
I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow,
And betimes I will, to the weird sisters:

More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know,
By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good,
All causes shall give way: I am in blood
Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er :

Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
Which must be acted ere they may be scanned.

Lady M. You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
Macb. Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-

abuse

Is the initiate fear that wants hard use:

We are yet but young in deed.

* Augurs, augury.

W. Shakespeare.

Magot-pies. Magpie; a pie which feeds upon maggots.

L. Macd.

CCXXII.

MACBETH.

ACT IV. SCENE II.-Fife. Macduff's Castle.

L. Macd

Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and Ross.

HAT had he done, to make him fly the
land?

Ross. You must have patience, madam.
He had none :

His flight was madness: when our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors.

Ross.

You know not

Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.

L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion and his titles in a place

From whence himself does fly?

He loves us not;

He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,

The most diminutive of birds, will fight,

Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All is the fear and nothing is the love;

As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason.

Ross.

My dearest coz,

.I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows

The fits o' the season. I dare not speak much further ;
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors

And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear,

But float upon a wild and violent sea

Each way and move. I take my leave of you :
Shall not be long but I'll be here again :

Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before. My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!

L. Macd. Fathered he is, and yet he's fatherless.
Ross. I am so much a fool,, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace and your discomfort :
I take my leave at once.

L. Macd.

And what will you do now?

[Exit.

Sirrah, your father's dead :
How will you live?

Son. As birds do, mother.

L. Macd.

What, with worms and flies?

Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

L. Macd. Poor bird! thoudst never fear the net nor The pitfall nor the gin.

[lime, Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not My father is not dead, for all your saying.

[set for. L. Macd. Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband?

L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet, With wit enough for thee.

Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?
L. Macd. Ay, that he was.

Son. What is a traitor?

L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.

Son. And be all traitors that do so?

[i' faith,

L. Macd. Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.

Son. And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? L. Macd. Every one.

Son. Who must hang them?

L. Macd. Why, the honest men.

Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them.

L. Macd. Now, God help thee, poor monkey!

But how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you

would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.

L. Macd. Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Bless you, fair dame ! I am not to you known, Though in your state of honour I am perfect.

I doubt some danger does approach you nearly :

If you will take a homely man's advice,

Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;
To do worse to you were fell cruelty,

Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!

I dare abide no longer.

L. Macd.

I have done no harm.

Whither should I fly?

But I remember now

I am in this earthly world; where to do harm
Is often laudable, to do good sometime
Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas,
Do I put up that womanly defence,

To say I have done no harm?

Enter Murderers.

What are these faces?

First Mur. Where is your husband?

L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified Where such as thou mayst find him.

First Mur.

Son. Thou liest, thou shag-haired villain!
First Mur.

Young fry of treachery !

Son.

Run away, I pray you!

[Exit.

He's a traitor.

What, you egg!

[Stabbing him.

[Dies.

He has killed me, mother:

[Exit Lady Macduff, crying 'Murder !' Exeunt Murderers, following her W. Shakespeare.