Page 2160 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

Wife, children, servants, all
That could be found.

MACDUFF
And I must be from thence!
My wife killed too?

ROSS
I have said.

MALCOLM
Be comforted.

Let’s make us medicines of our great revenge
To cure this deadly grief.

MACDUFF
He has no children.
All my pretty ones? Did you say all?

O hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens
And their dam, at one fell swoop?

MALCOLM
Dispute it like a man.

MACDUFF
I shall do so;
But I must also feel it as a man. [220]

I cannot but remember such things were
That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on
And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff!
They were all struck for thee. Naught that I am,

Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now!

MALCOLM
Be this the whetstone of your sword; let grief
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.