1 But yet I call you servile ministers, That have with two pernicious daughters join'd So old and white as this. Oh! oh! 'tis foul. That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads, Unwhipp'd of Justice! Hide thee, thou bloody hand Hast practis'd on man's life.-Close pent up guilts, Those dreadful summoners grace! I am a man SHAKSPEARE. CHAP. XVI. MACBETH'S SOLILOQUY. Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle tow'rd my hand? come, let me clutch thee.I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but As this which I now draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going; Mine eyes are made the fools o' th' other senses, Thus to mine eyes.-Now o'er one half the world The curtain'd Sleep; now Witchcraft celebrates Whose howl's his watch,) thus with his stealthy pace, SHAKSPEARE. Macd. CHAP. XVII. MACDUFF, MALCOLM, AND ROSSE. SEE who comes here? Malc. My countryman; but yet I know him not. I know him now. Good God! betimes remove The means that makes us strangers! Rosse. Macd. Sir, Amen. Stands Scotland where it did? Rosse. Alas! poor country, Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing, Is there scarce ask'd for whom and good men's lives Macd. Oh, relation Too nice, and yet too true! Malc. What's the newest grief? Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker. Each minute teems a new one. Macd. How does my wife? Rosse. Why, well. Macd. And all my children? Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? Rosse. No; they were at peace when I did leave 'em. Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech: how goes it? Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings, Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour Of many worthy fellows that were out, Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, For that I saw the tyrant's power afoot. Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, and make women fight, To doff their dire distresses. Malc. Be't their comfort We're coming thither; gracious England hath Rosse. Would I could answer This comfort with the like; but I have words, The gen'ral cause? or is it a free grief, Rosse. No mind that's honest, But in it shares some wo; though the main part Pertains to you alone. Macd. If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound, That ever yet they heard. Macd. Hum! I guess at it. Rosse. Your castle is surpris'd, your wife and babes Savagely slaughter'd! to relate the manner, Were on the quarry of these murder'd deer Mal. Merciful Heav'n! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all that could be found. Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. Macd. He has no children.-All my pretty ones! Did you say all? what, all? oh, hell-kite! all? Malc. Endure it like a man. Macd. I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man. I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me. Did Heav'n look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, Heav'n rest them now! Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; Malc. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the King, our pow'r is ready; Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may; SHAKSPEARE. CHAP. XVIII. ANTONY'S SOLILOQUY OVER CÆSAR'S BODY. O PARDON me, thou bleeding piece of earth! That ever lived in the tide of times. Wo to the hand, that shed this costly blood! (Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips, Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; ; That mothers shall but smile, when they behold SHAKSPEARE. CHAP. XIX. ANTONY'S FUNERAL ORATION OVER CÆSAR'S BODY. FRIENDS, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him. |