Act 4 - Scene 3
England. Before the King's palace.
Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF MALCOLM
Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty. MACDUFF
Let us rather Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new
morn New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds As if it
felt with Scotland and yell'd out Like syllable of dolour. MALCOLM
What I believe I'll wail, What know believe, and what I can redress, As I shall find the time to friend, I
will. What you have spoke, it may be so perchance. This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was
once thought honest: you have loved him well. He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but something You
may deserve of him through me, and wisdom To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb To appease an angry
god. MACDUFF
I am not treacherous. MALCOLM
But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon; That
which you are my thoughts cannot transpose: Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell; Though all
things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so. MACDUFF
I have lost my hopes. MALCOLM
Perchance even there where I did find my doubts. Why in that rawness left you wife and child, Those
precious motives, those strong knots of love, Without leave-taking? I pray you, Let not my jealousies be
your dishonours, But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just, Whatever I shall think. MACDUFF
Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dare not cheque thee: wear
thou thy wrongs; The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord: I would not be the villain that thou think'st For the
whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp, And the rich East to boot. MALCOLM
Be not offended: I speak not as in absolute fear of you. I think our country sinks beneath the yoke; It weeps,
it bleeds; and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds: I think withal There would be hands uplifted in
my right; And here from gracious England have I offer Of goodly thousands: but, for all this, When I shall
tread upon the tyrant's head, Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country Shall have more vices than it
had before, More suffer and more sundry ways than ever, By him that shall succeed.
|
|
By PanEris
using Melati.
|
|
|
|
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Bibliomania.com Ltd,
and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission.
See our FAQ for more details.
|
|