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The means that makes us strangers!
Rosse. Sir, Amen,
Macd. Stands Scotland where it did?
Rosse. Alas, poor country!
Macd. Oh, relation
Mai. 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?
Rosse. W'ell too.
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,
Mai. Be't their comfort,
That Christendom gives out,
Rosse. Would I could answer
Macd. What concern they?
Rosse. No mind that's honest,
Macd. If it be mine,
Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
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 murther'd deer To add the death of you.
Mai. Merciful Heaven!
What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows,
Macd. My children too!
Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all that could be found.
Macd. And I must be from thence! my wife kill'd too!
Rosse. I've said.
Mai. Be comforted.
Let's make us med'cines jtour great revenge, -
Macd. He has no children.—All my pretty ones!
Mai. Endure it like a man.
Macd. I shall do so;
I cauuot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me. Did Heav'n look on,
And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls. Heav'n rest them now!
MaL Be this the whet-stone of your sword, let grief Convert to wrath; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
Macd. 0, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue. But gentle Heav'n! Cut short all intermission: front to front, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; Within my sword's length set him, if he 'scape, Then Heav'n forgive him too!
MaL This tune 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 j The night is long that never finds the day.
ANTONY'S SOLILOQUY OVER CESAR'S BODY.
0 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 tideWtimes.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood 5
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,
(Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue)
A curse^shall light upon the line of men;
Domestic fury, and fierce civil strife,
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction shall be so in use,
And dreadful objects so familiar,
That mothers shall but smile, when they behold
Their infants quarter'd by the hands of war;
All pity choak'd with custom of fell deeds;
And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ale by his side come hot from hell
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, - ^ '~
Cry, Havock, and let slip the dogs of war.
ANTONY's FUNERAL ORATION OVER CJBSAR's
Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your earsy
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill;.
Did this in Ccesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cry'd, Caesar hath wept;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see, that on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown;
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says, ye was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
1 speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause.
What cause with-holds you then to mourn for him!
Ojudgement! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason.—Bear with me.—•
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I ni^st pause till it come back to me.
If ydfa have tears, prepare to shed them now.
That day he overcame the Nervii
Look! In this place ran Cassius' dagger through j—
See what a rent the envious Casca made.
Through this the well-beloved Btutus stabb'd;
And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Ciesar follow'd it!
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no:
For Brutus, as you know, was Coesar's angel.
Judge, oh ye gods! how dearly Caesar lov'd him j
This, this was the unkindest cut 6f all;
For wh^n the noble Caesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,