MALCOLM

This is the Sergeant, Who Like a good and hardy Soldier fought against my Captivity: Hail brave friend; Say to the King, the knowledge of the Broil, As thou didst leave it. The worthy Thane of Rose. My Liege, they are not yet come back. But I have spoke with one that saw him die: Who did report, that very frankly he Confessed his Treasons, implored your Highness Pardon, And set forth a deep Repentance: Nothing in his Life became him, Like the leaving it. He died, As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless Trifle. O, by whom? Why do we hold our tongues, That most may claim this argument for ours? Nor our strong Sorrow Upon the foot of Motion. Let us seek out some desolate shade, & there Weep our sad bosoms empty. 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 touched you yet. I am young, but something You may discern of him through me, and wisdom To offer up a weak, poor innocent Lamb to appease and angry God. 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 Tyrants head, Or wear it on my Sword; yet my poor Country Shall have more vices then it had before, More suffer, and more sundry ways then ever, By him that shall succeed. It is my self I mean: in whom I know All the particulars of Vice so grafted, That when they shall be opened, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as Snow, and the poor State Esteem him as a Lamb, being compared With my confinelesse harms. I grant him Bloody, Luxurious, Avaricious, False, Deceitful, Sudden, Malicious, smacking of every sin That ha a name. But there's no bottom, none In my Voluptuousness: Your Wives, your Daughters, Your Matrons, and your Maids, could not fill up The Cistern of my Lust, and my Desire All continent Impediments would overbear That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth, Then such and one to reign. With this, there grows In my most ill-compos'd Affection, such A staunchless Avarice, that were I King, I should cut off the Nobles for their Lands, Desire his Jewels, and this others House, And my more-hauing, would be as a Sauce To make me hunger more, that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the Good and Loyal, Destroying them for wealth. But I have none. The King-becoming Graces, As Justice, Verity, Temperance, Stableness, Bounty, Perseverance, Mercy, Lowliness, Devotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude, I have no relish of them, but abound In the division of each several Crime, Acting it many ways. Nay, had I pour, I should Pour the sweet Milk of Concord, into Hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. If such a one be fit to govern, speak: I am as I have spoken. Macduff, this Noble passion Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wiped the black Scruples, reconciled my thoughts To thy good Truth, and Honour. Devilish Macbeth, By many of these trains, hath sought to win me Into his power: and modest Wisdom plucks me From overcredulous hast: but God above Deal between thee and me; For even now I put my self to thy Direction, and Unspeak mine own detraction. Here abjure The taints, and blames I laid upon my self, For strangers to my Nature. I am yet Unknown to Woman, never was forsworn, Scarcely have coveted what was mine own: At no time broke my Faith, would not betray The Devil to his Fellow, and delight No less in truth then life. My first false speaking Was this upon my self. What I am truly Is thine, and my poor Countries to command: Whither indeed, before they here approach Old Seyward with ten thousand warlike men Already at a point, was setting forth: Now we'll together, and the chance of goodness Be Like our warranted Quarrel. Why are you silent? Well, more anon. Comes the King forth I pray you? I thank you Doctor. 'Tis called the Evil. A most miraculous work in this good King, Which often since my here remain in England, I have seen him do: How he solicits heaven Himself best knows: but strangely visited people All swollen and Ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of Surgery, he cures, Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, Put on with holy Prayers, and it's spoken To the succeeding Royalty he leaves The healing Benediction. With this strange virtue, He hath a heavenly gift of Prophesy, And sundry Blessings hang about his Throne, That speak him full of Grace. Be this the Whetstone of your sword, let grief Convert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it. This time goes manly: Come go we to the King, our Power is ready, Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the Powers above Put on their Instruments: Receive what cheer you may, The Night is long, that never finds the Day. Now near enough: Your leafy Skreens throw down, And show Like those you are: You (worthy Uncle) Shall with my Cousin your right Noble Son Lead our first Battle. Worthy Macduff, and we Shall take upon's what else remains to do, According to our order. I would the Friends we miss, were safe arrived. Macduff is missing, and your Noble Son. He's worth more sorrow, And that I'll spend for him. We shall not spend a large expense of time, Before we reckon with your several loves, And make us even with you. My Thanes and Kinsmen Henceforth be Earls, the first that ever Scotland In such and Honour named: What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exiled Friends abroad, That fled the Snares of watchful Tyranny, Producing forth the cruel Ministers Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiendlike Queen; Who (as it's thought) by self and violent hands, Took off her life. This, and what needful else That call's upon us, by the Grace of Grace, We will perform in measure, time, and place: So thanks to all at once, and to each one, Whom we invite, to see us Crowned at Scone. What will you do? Let's not consort with them: To show and unfelt Sorrow, is and Office Which the false man do's easy. I'll to England. This murderous Shaft that's shot, Hath not yet lighted: and our safest way, Is to avoid the aim. Therefore to Horse, And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, But shift away: there's warrant in that Theft, Which steals it self, when there's no mercy left. But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous Nature may recoil In and 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. 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 Jealousy's, be your Dishonours, But mine own Safeties: you may be rightly joust, What ever I shall think. My Countryman: but yet I know him nor. I know him now. Good God betimes remove The means that makes us Strangers. What's the newest grief? Be't their comfort We are coming thither: Gracious England hath Lent us good Seyward, and ten thousand men, And older, and a better Soldier, none That Christendom gives out. Merciful Heaven: What man, never pull your hat upon your brows: Give sorrow words; the grief that do's not speak, Whispers the o're-fraught heart, and bids it break. Be comforted. Let's make us Medicines of our great Revenge, To cure this deadly grief. Dispute it Like a man. Cousin's, I hope the days are near at hand That Chambers will be safe. It's his main hope: For where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the Revolt, And none serve with him, but constrained things, Whose hearts are absent too. We have met with Foes That strike beside us. Let every Soldier hew him down a Bough, And bear't before him, thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our Host, and make discovery Err in report of us.