L. Macd.
What had he done to make him fly the land?

Rosse.
You must have patience, madam.

L. Macd.
He had none;
His flight was madness; when our actions do not;
Our fears do make us traitors.

Rosse.
You know not,
Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.

L. Macd.
Wisdom? to leave his wife, to leave his babes,
His mansion, and his titles, in a place
From whence himself doth fly? he loves us not;
He wants the nat'ral 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 reasons.

Rosse.
My dearest cousin,
I pray you school yourself; but for your husband,
He's noble, wife, judicious, and best knows
The fits o' th' season. I dare not speak much farther,

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 belong 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!

L. Macd.
Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.

Rosse.
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 Rosse. Enter Angus.

Ang.
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.
Heav'n preserve you!
I dare abide no longer. [Exit Angus.

L. Macd.
Whither should I fly?
I've done no harm. But I remember now,
I'm in this earthly world, where to do harm
Is often laudable; to do good, sometime
Accounted dangerous folly. Why then, alas!
Do I put up that womanly defence,
To say, I'd done no harm? [Exeunt.

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