Macbeth - Act 4 - Scene 2

SCENE II. Fife. 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'ldst never fear the net nor lime,
    The pitfall 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 a 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

    Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith,
    With wit enough for thee.

Son

    Was my father a traitor, mother?

LADY MACDUFF

    Ay, that he was.

Son

    What is a traitor?

LADY MACDUFF

    Why, one that swears and lies.

Son

    And be all traitors that do so?

LADY MACDUFF

    Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.

Son

    And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?

LADY MACDUFF

    Every one.

Son

    Who must hang them?

LADY MACDUFF

    Why, the honest men.

Son

    Then the liars and swearers are fools,
    for there are liars and swearers enow to beat
    the honest men and hang up them.

LADY MACDUFF

    Now, God help thee, poor monkey!
    But how wilt thou do for a father?

Son

    If he were dead, you'ld weep for
    him: if you would not, it were a good sign
    that I should quickly have a new father.

LADY MACDUFF

    Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!

    Enter a Messenger

Messenger

    Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
    Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
    I doubt some danger does approach you nearly:
    If you will take a homely man's advice,
    Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
    To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;
    To do worse to you were fell cruelty,
    Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!
    I dare abide no longer.

    Exit

LADY MACDUFF

    Whither should I fly?
    I have done no harm. But I remember now
    I am in this earthly world; where to do harm
    Is often laudable, to do good sometime
    Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas,
    Do I put up that womanly defence,
    To say I have done no harm?

    Enter Murderers
    What are these faces?

First Murderer

    Where is your husband?

LADY MACDUFF

    I hope, in no place so unsanctified
    Where such as thou mayst find him.

First Murderer

    He's a traitor.

Son

    Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!

First Murderer

    What, you egg!

    Stabbing him
    Young fry of treachery!

Son

    He has kill'd me, mother:
    Run away, I pray you!

    Dies

    Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying 'Murder!' Exeunt Murderers, following her

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