MALCOLM LINES

DUNCAN: What bloody man is that? … The newest state.

That is the Sergeant who, fought ‘gainist my captivity.
Hail, brave friend!
Say to the King the knowledge of the broil,
As thou didst leave it.

MACBETH: Had I but died an hour before this chance…
All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead;

What is amiss?

MACDUFF: Your royal father’s murdered.

Oh, by whom?

BANDQUO: And when we have our naked frailties hid… Of treasonous malice.
MACDUFF: And so do I.

So all.

MACBETH: Let’s briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i’th’hall together

Well contented.
What will I do? I’ll not consort with them:
To show an unfelt sorrow is an office which the false man does easy. This murderous shaft that’s shot
Hath not yet lgihted, and my safest way is to avoid the aim: therefore, to England;
But slip away. There’s warrant in that theft which steals itself, when there’s no mercy left.

MACDUFF: …Like a syllable of dolour

This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,

Was once thought honest: you have loved him well;
He hath not touched you yet.

MACDUFF: I am not treacherous.

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: I have lost my hopes.

Perchance even there where I did find my doubts

Why in that rawness left you wife and child

Without leave-taking? - I pray you,

Let not my jealousies be your dishonors,

But mine own safeties: you may be rightly just,

Whatever I shall think.

Fare thee well, Lady

I would not be the villain that though think’st

For the whole space that’s in the tyrant’s grasp,

And the rick East to boot

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 than it had before,

More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever,

By her that shall succeed.

What should she be?

It is myself I mean; in whom I know

All the particulars of vices so grafted

That, when they shall be opened, foul Macbeth

Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor State

Esteem him as a lamb, being compared

With my confineless harms.

Not in the legions

Of horrid Hell can come a devil more damned

In evils, to top Macbeth

But I have none: the crown-becoming graces,

As Justice, Verity, Temperance, Stableness,

Bounty, Perseverance, Mercy, Lowliness,

Devotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitudem

I have no relish of them; but abound

In the division of each several crime,

Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should

Pour the sweet milk of concord into Hell,

Uproar the universal peace, confound

All unity on earth.

O Scotland, Scotland

If such a one be fit to govern, speak:

I am as I have spoken

Fit to govern?

No, not to live. O nation miserable!

…

Oh my breast,

Thy hope ends here.

Macduff, this noble passion,

Child of integrity, hath from my soul

Wiped the suspicions, reconciled my thoughts

To thy good truth and honor. Devilish Macbeth

By many of these trains hath sought to win me

Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me

From over-credulous haste: but God above

Deal between thee and me; for even now

I put myself to thy direction, and

Unspeak mine own detraction; here abjure

The taints and blames I laid upon myself,

For strangers to my nature. What I am truly,

I thine, and my poor country’s, to commend:

Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach,

Old Siward, 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?

Such welcome and unwelcome things at one,

‘Tis hard to reconcile.

Well, more anon.

See, who comes here.

My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

Good God, betimes remove

The means that make us strangers.

MACDUFF: Alas, too true.

What’s the newest grief?

ROSS: …Your eye in Scotland

Would create soldiers, make our women fight,

To doff their dire distresses.

Be’t their comfort,

We are coming thither. Gracious England hath

Lent us good Siward, and ten thousand men

ROSS: Your castle is surprised; your wife, and babes,

Savagely slaughtered: to relate the manner,

Were to add the death of you

Merciful heaven.

ROSS: I have said

Be comforted:

Let’s make us med’cines of our great revenge,

To cure this deadly grief.

MACDUFF: He has no children…

At one fell swoop?

Dispute it like a man.

MACDUFF: O I could play the woman with mine eyes

…Heaven forgive him too.

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. Receive what cheer you may;

The night is long that never finds the day.

(End of V, III)
MACBETH: Throw physic to the dogs; I’ll none of it.

I will not be afraid of death and bane,

Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.

What wood is this before us?

The wood of Birnam.

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.

LENNOX: …Our setting down before’t

‘Tis his main hope;

Tis rumored where there is advantage to be gone,

Both high and low have flown him in revolt,

And none serve with him but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.

ALL: Hail, Queen of Scotland

What’s more to do,

Which would be planted newly with the time?

ROSS: … Took off her life;

—this, and what needful else

That calls 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.