Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker,
Each minute teems a new one.
Macd. How does


Rosse. Why, well.
Macd. And all my children?
Rosse. Well 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,
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
Of many worthy fellows that were out,
Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot.
Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
Would create soldiers, and make women fight,
To doff their dire distresses.

MAL. Be't their comfort
We're coming thither : gracious England hath ,
Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men ;
An older and better foldier, none
That Christendom gives out.

Rosse. Would I could answer
This comfort with the like; but I have words ;
That would be howl'd out in the defert air,
Where hearing should not catch them.

MACD. What concern they?
The gen’ral cause?' or is it a free grief,
Due to some single breaft.

Rosse. No'mind that's honest,
But in it shares some wo; though the main part
Pertains to you alone,



MACD. If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever.
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound,
That ever yet they heard.

MacD. Hum ! I guess at it.

Rosse. Your castle is surpris’d, your wife and babes
Savagely flaughter'd: to relate the manner,
Were on the quarry of these murther'd deer
To add the death of

MAL. Merciful Heav'n!
What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows,
Give sorrow words! the grief that does not speak,
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break,

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.

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 say all? What all? Oh, hell-kite! All ?

Mal. Endure it like a man.

Macd. I shall do ro;
But I muft also feel it as a man.
I cannot 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 truck for thee? naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell flaughter on their souls. Heav'n rest them now!



MAL. Be this the whetstone of your sword, 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 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 Making, and the powers above
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may;-
The night is long that never finds the day,



ANTONY'S SOLILOQUY OVER CÆSAR's BODY. O 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. Wo to the hand that Thed this costly blood ! 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 chok'd with custom of fell deeds ;
And Cæsar's spirit, ranging, for revenge,
With Até by his fide, come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry, Havcck ! and let slip the dogs of war.




FRIENDS, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears,
I come to bury Cæfar, not to praise hima
The evil that men do lives after them :
The good is oft interred with their bones :
So let it be with Cæsar! Noble Brutus.
Hath told you, Cæsar was ambitious ;
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cæfar answer'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 Cæsar's funeral,
He was my friend, faithful and just to me;
But Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Wiose ransoms did the general coffers fill;
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious ?
When that the poor have cry'd, Cæfar hath wept;


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Ambition should be made of fterner 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, he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I 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 withholds you then to mourn for him ?
O judgment ! thou art fled to brutisk beasts,
And men have lost their reason. --Bear with me.
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle ; I remember,
The first time ever Cæfar


it on,
'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent,
That day he overcame the Nervii-
Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through ;-
Sot what a rent the envious Casca made.
Carough this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd:
And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cælar follow'd it !
As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd,
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no :
For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel.
Judge, oh ye gods ! how dearly Cæfar lov'd him;
This, this was the unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Cæfar saw him ftab,


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