Page 2153 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth
That such a one to reign.

MACDUFF
Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny. It hath been
The untimely emptying of the happy throne,

And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours. You may [70]
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty

And yet seem cold; the time you may so hoodwink.
We have willing dames enough. There cannot be
That vulture in you to devour so many
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so inclined.

MALCOLM
With this there grows
In my most ill-composed affection such
A staunchless avarice that, were I king,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands,

Desire his jewels and this other’s house, [80]
And my more-having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more, that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,

Destroying them for wealth.

MACDUFF
This avarice
Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeming lust; and it hath been

The sword of our slain kings. Yet do not fear:
Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will
Of your mere own. All these are portable,
With other graces weighed.

MALCOLM
But I have none. [90]