William Shakespeare: Macbeth

ACT IV. 3. SCENE III. England. Before the King's Palace. (continued)

MACDUFF.
Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
'Tis hard to reconcile.

[Enter a Doctor.]

MALCOLM.
Well; more anon.--Comes the king forth, I pray you?

DOCTOR.
Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched souls
That stay his cure: their malady convinces
The great assay of art; but, at his touch,
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand,
They presently amend.

MALCOLM.
I thank you, doctor.

[Exit Doctor.]

MACDUFF.
What's the disease he means?

MALCOLM.
'Tis call'd the evil:
A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which often, since my here-remain in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures;
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy;
And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.

MACDUFF.
See, who comes here?

MALCOLM.
My countryman; but yet I know him not.

[Enter Ross.]

MACDUFF.
My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

MALCOLM.
I know him now. Good God, betimes remove
The means that makes us strangers!

ROSS.
Sir, amen.

MACDUFF.
Stands Scotland where it did?

ROSS.
Alas, poor country,--
Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where nothing,
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks, that rent the air,
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell
Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps,
Dying or ere they sicken.