Saw you the weird sisters?LENNOX.
No, my lord.
MACBETH.
Came they not by you?
LENNOX.
No indeed, my lord.
MACBETH.
Infected be the air whereon they ride;
And damn’d all those that trust them!—I did hear
The galloping of horse: who was’t came by?
LENNOX.
‘Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word
Macduff is fled to England.
MACBETH.
Fled to England!
LENNOX.
Ay, my good lord.
MACBETH.
Time, thou anticipat’st my dread exploits:
The flighty purpose never is o’ertook
Unless the deed go with it: from this moment
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And even now,
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:
The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o’ the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;
This deed I’ll do before this purpose cool:
But no more sights!—Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. Fife. A Room in 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.
LADY MACDUFF.
What, with worms and flies?
SON.
With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
LADY MACDUFF.
Poor bird! thou’dst never fear the net nor lime,
The pit-fall nor the gin.
SON.
Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
My father is not dead, for all your saying.
LADY MACDUFF.
Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou do for father?
SON.
Nay, how will you do for a husband?
LADY MACDUFF.
Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.
SON.
Then you’ll buy ‘em to sell again.
LADY MACDUFF.
