Macbeth

[Macbeth castle at Dunsinane. Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants]

Macbeth

Bring me no more reports; let them fly all.
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:
'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman
Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then fly, false thanes,
And mingle with the English epicures.
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.

Macduff

                                         Bleed, bleed, poor country.
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure
For goodness dare not cheque thee. Wear thou thy wrongs,
The title is affeered. Fare thee well, lord.
I would not be the villain that thou think'st
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
And the rich East to boot.

Malcolm

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[Enter a Doctor]

Malcolm

Doctor

Malcolm

[Exit Doctor]

Macduff

Malcolm

[Enter Ross]

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[Exit]

Macduff

I am not treacherous.

Malcolm

                                       But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil
In an 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.

Macduff

Malcolm

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[Enter a Doctor]

Malcolm

Doctor

Malcolm

[Exit Doctor]

Macduff

Malcolm

[Enter Ross]

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[Exit]

Macduff

I am not treacherous.

Malcolm

                                       But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil
In an 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.

Macduff

Malcolm

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[Enter a Doctor]

Malcolm

Doctor

Malcolm

[Exit Doctor]

Macduff

Malcolm

[Enter Ross]

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[Exit]

Macduff

                                                     Let us rather
Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men
Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom. Each new morn
New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland and yelled out
Like syllable of dolor.

Malcolm

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[Enter a Doctor]

Malcolm

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[Exit Doctor]

Macduff

Malcolm

[Enter Ross]

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[Exit]

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 rumor
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. [To Son] My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you.

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