Page 2150 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

What, you egg,
Young fry of treachery!

He stabs him.

SON
He has killed me, mother!
Run away, I pray you.

Son dies. Exit Wife crying ‘Murder’.

Scene III IT

Enter Malcolm and Macduff.

MALCOLM
Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there

Weep our sad bosoms empty.

MACDUFF
Let us rather
Hold fast the mortal sword; and like good men
Bestride our down-fallen 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 dolour.

MALCOLM
What I believe, I’ll wail;

What know, believe; and what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will. [10]
What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,

Was once thought honest; you have loved him well;
He hath not touched you yet. I am young; but something
You may deserve of him, through me; and wisdom
To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb