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LENNOX . ’ Tis two or three , my lord , that bring you word Macduff is fled to England . MACBETH . Fled to England ! LENNOX . Ay , my good lord . MACBETH . Time , thou anticipat’st my dread exploits : The flighty purpose never is o’ertook Unless the deed go with it . From this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand . And even now , To crown my thoughts with acts , be it thought and done : The castle of Macduff I will surprise ; Seize upon Fife ; give to th ’ edge o ’ th ’ sword His wife , his babes , and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line . No boasting like a fool ; This deed I’ll do before this purpose cool : But no more sights ! — Where are these gentlemen ? Come , bring me where they are . [ Exeunt . ] SCENE II . Fife . A Room in Macduff’s Castle . Enter Lady Macduff her Son and Ross . LADY MACDUFF . What had he done , to make him fly the land ? ROSS . You must have patience , madam . LADY MACDUFF . He had none : His flight was madness : when our actions do not , Our fears do make us traitors . ROSS . You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear . LADY MACDUFF . Wisdom ! to leave his wife , to leave his babes , His mansion , and his titles , in a place From whence himself does fly ? He loves us not : He wants the natural touch ; for the poor wren , The most diminutive of birds , will fight , Her young ones in her nest , against the owl . All is the fear , and nothing is the love ; As little is the wisdom , where the flight So runs against all reason . ROSS . My dearest coz , I pray you , school yourself : but , for your husband , He is noble , wise , judicious , and best knows The fits o ’ th ’ season . I dare not speak much further : But cruel are the times , when we are traitors , And do not know ourselves ; when we hold rumour From what we fear , yet know not what we fear , But float upon a wild and violent sea Each way and move — I take my leave of you : Shall not be long but I’ll be here again . Things at the worst will cease , or else climb upward To what they were before . — My pretty cousin , Blessing upon you ! LADY MACDUFF . Father’d he is , and yet he’s fatherless . 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 .
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