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Hear not my fteps, which way they walk, for fear
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
CHA P. XXIII.
MACDUFF, MALCOLM, AND ROSSE.
MAL. My countryman; but yet I know him not. MACD. My ever-gentle coufin, welcome hither. MAL. I know him, now. Good God, betimes remove
The means that makes us ftrangers!
Rosse. Sir, Amen.
MACD. Stands Scotland where it did?
Rosse. Alas, poor country,
Almoft afraid to know itfelf. It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,
Is there scarce afk'd, for whom : and good men's lives
Dying or e'er they ficken.
MACD. Oh, relation
Too nice, and yet too true!
MAL. 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
ROSSE. Well too.
MACD. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?
MAL. Be't their comfort
We're coming thither: gracious England hath
That Chriftendom gives out.
ROSSE. Would I could anfwer
This comfort with the like; but I have words
Where hearing fhould not catch them.
MACD. What concern they?
The gen'ral caufe? or is it a free-grief,
ROSSE. No mind that's honest,
But in it shares fome woe; though the main part
MACD. If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.
MACD. Hum! I guess at it.
Rosse. Your castle is furpris'd, your wife and babes
Were on the quarry of these murther'd deer
ML Merciful Heaven!
What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows,
MACD. My children too!
Rosse. Wife, children, fervants, all that could be found.
MAL. Be comforted.
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 fay, all? what all? oh, hell-kite! al?
MAL. Endure it like a man.
MACD. I fhall do fo;
But I muft alfo feel it as a man.
I cannot but remember fuch things were,
That were most precious to me.
Fell flaughter on their fouls. Heav'n reft them now!
MAL. Be this the whet ftone of your fword, let grief Convert to wrath; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
MACD. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue. But, gentle Heav'n! Cut fhort all intermiffion : front to front,
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
MAL. This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the King, our power is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth
Put on their inftruments. Receive what cheer you may;
CHA P. XXIV.
ANTONY'S SOLILOQUY OVER CESAR'S BODY.
PARDON me, thou bleeding piece of earth!
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers. Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this coftly blood!
(Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
That mothers fhall but smile, when they behold
CHA P. XXV.
ANTONY's FUNERAL ORATION OVER CESAR'S BODY.
RIENDS, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears, I come to bury Cæfar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Cæfar! Noble Brutus Hath told you, Cæfar was ambitious; If it were so, it was a grievous fault; And grievously hath Cæfar anfwer'd it. Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, (For Brutus is an honourable man, So are they all, all honourable men) Come I to speak in Cæfar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me; But Brutus. fays, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Did this in Cæfar feem ambitious?
When that the poor have cry'd, Cæfar hath wept ;