Act 4 - Scene 2
Fife. Macduff's castle.
Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSS LADY MACDUFF
What had he done, to make him fly the land? ROSS
You must have patience, madam. LADY MACDUFF
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. LADY MACDUFF
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! LADY MACDUFF
Father'd 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.
Exit LADY MACDUFF
Sirrah, your father's dead; And what will you do now? How will you live? Son
As birds do, mother.
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By PanEris
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