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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’dst never fear the net nor lime,
The pit-fall 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.)