You may deferve of him through me, and wisdom
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,
Tappease an angry God.
Macd. I am not treacherous.
Mal. But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil
In an imperial charge. I crave your pardon:
That which you are, my thoughts cannot tranfpofe;
Angels are bright ftill, though the brighteft fell:
Though all things foul would. wear the brows of
Yet grace must still look fo.
[grace,
[my doubts:
Macd. I've loft my hopes.
Mal. Perchance even there, where I did find Why in that rawnefs left you wife and children? Thofe precious motives, thofe ftrong knots of love, Without leave-taking?-I pray you,
Let not my jealoufies be your difhonours,
But mine own. fafeties: you may be rightly juft,
Whatever I fhall think.
Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country!
Great Tyranny, lay thou thy bafis fure,
For goodness dares not check thee! wear thou thy
His title is effeired. Fare thee well, Lord: [wrongs;
I would not be the villain that thou thinkest,
For the whole fpace that's in the tyrant's grasp,.
And the rich Eaft to boot.
Mal. Be not offended;
I speak not as in abfolute fear of you.
the context could not have convinced, our blind editors, that we ought to read dejerve instead of difcern, (as I have cor rected in the text) yet Macduff's anfwer, fure, might have given them fome light,-I am not treacherous There is an other paffage, in which vice versa the fame error has been committed upon the other word: King Lear, (old Quarto in 1608)
Thine honour from thy fuffering.Where the fenfe evidently demands difcerning.
I think our country finks beneath the yoke;
It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gath
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 thoufands. But for all this,
When I fhall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before;
More fuffer, and more fundry ways than ever,
By him that thall fucceed.
Matd. What thould he be?
Mal. It is myself I mean, in whom I know All the particulars of vice fo grafted,
That when they fhall be opened, black Macbeth
Will feem as pure as fnow, and the poor
Efteem him as a lamb, being compared
With my confineless harms.
Macd. Not in the legions
Of horrid hell can come a devil more damned,
In evils to top Macbeth.
Mal. I grant him bloody,
Luxurious, avaricious, falfe, deceitful,
Sudden, malicious, fmacking of every fin
That has a name. But there's no bottom, none,"
In my voluptuoufnefs your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up
The cistern of my luft; and my defire
All continent impediments would o'erbear,
That did oppose my will.. Better Macbeth,.
Than fuch an one to reign.
Macd. Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne,
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours; you may
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet feem cold, the time you may fo hoodwink.
We've willing dames enough; there cannot be
That vulture in you to devour so many,
As will to greatnefs dedicate themselves,
Einding it fo inclined.
Mal. With this there grows,
In my moft ill-compofed affection, fuch
A ftaunchlefs avarice, that were I king,
I fhould cut off the nobles, for their lands;
Defire his jewels, and this other's houfe;
And my more-haying would be as a fauce
To make me hunger more; that I should forge
Quarrels unjuft against the good and loyal,
Deftroying them for wealth..
Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root (37)
Than fummer-teeming luft; and it hath been
The fword of our flain kings. Yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foyfons to fill up your will,
(37) grows with more pernicious root Than fummer-feearing lust;] Mr Warburton concurred with me in obferving, that fummer-leeming has no manner of fenfe; we therefore both corrected conjecturally,
Than fummer-t-eming luft;
e the paffion, which lafts no longer than the heat of life, and which goes off in the winter of age. Besides, the metaphor is much more juft by our emendation; for fummer is the feafon in which weeds get ftrength, grow rank, and dis Jate themselves.
And weeds are follow-rocted; fuffer them now,
And they'll o'ergrow the garden.
The fame image our Author in another passage conveys by an equivalent epithet, fummer-fwelling.
Two Gentlemen of Verona;
Disdain to root the fummer-fuelling flower,
And make rough winter everlastingly.
Of your mere own.. All these are portable,
With other graces weighed.
Mal. But I have none; the king-becoming, graces,
As juftice, verity, temperance, ftableness,
Bounty, perfeverance, mercy, lowlinefs,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude;,
I have no relish of them, but abound.
In the divifion of each feveral crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had. I power, I fhould
Pour the fweet milk of concord into hell,.
Uproar the univerfal peace, confound
All unity on earth.
Macd: Oh, Scotland! Scotland !
Mal. If fuch a one be fit to govern, speak.
I am as I have spoken.
No, not to live.. O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant, bloody sceptered,
When shalt thou fee thy wholefome days again?
Since that the trueft iffue of thy throne..
By his own interdiction stands accurfed,
And does blafpheme his breed. Thy royal father
Was a most fainted king; the Queen that bore thee,
Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,
Died every day fhe lived.
Oh, fare thee well!
Thefe evils thou repeatest upon thyfelf
Have banished me from Scotland. Oh, my breast! Thy hope ends here..
Mal. Macduff, this noble paffion,
Child of integrity, hath from my foul
Wiped the black scruples; reconciled my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
By many of these trains hath fought to win me
Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous hafte; but God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now
I put myself to thy direction, and
Unfpeak mine own detraction; here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myfelf,
For ftrangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman, never was forfworn,.
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,
At no time broke my faith, would not betray
The devil to his fellow, and delight
No lefs in truth, than life: my firit falfe-speaking
Was this upon myfelf. What I am truly,
Is thine, and my poor country's, to command:
Whither, indeed, before thy here approach,
Old Siward with ten thousand warlike men,
All ready at a point, was fetting forth.
Now we'll together, and the chance of goodness
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you filent?`
Macd. Such welcome,, and unwelcome things,.
'Tis hard to reconcile...
[at once,
Mal. Well; more anon. Comes the King forth, L pray you?
Dot. Ay, Sir; there are a crew of wretched fouls That ftay his cure; their malady convinces The great affay of art. But at his touch, Such fanctity hath Heaven given his hand, They prefently amend..
Mal. I thank you, Doctor.
Macd. What's the difeafe he means?
Mal. 'Tis called the evil;
A most miraculous work in this good King,
Which often fince my here-remain in England
I've feen him do. How he folicits Heaven,
Himfelf beft knows; but ftrangely-vifited people,
All fwoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of furgery, he cures;
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