Macbeth, Act 3, Scene 6

My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret farther: only, I say, Thing’s have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth:—marry, he was dead:— And the right valiant Banquo walk’d too late; Whom, you may say, if’t please you, Fleance kill’d, For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father? damned fact! How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight, In pious rage, the two delinquents tear That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too; For ’twould have anger’d any heart alive, To hear the men deny’t. So that, I say, He has borne all things well: and I do think, That had he Duncan’s sons under his key (As, and’t please heaven, he shall not) they should find What ’twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. But, peace!—for from broad words, and ’cause he fail’d His presence at the tyrant’s feast, I hear, Macduff lives in disgrace. Sir, can you tell Where he bestows himself?

What I've said before has only matched what you were already thinking, and you can take it further yourself. All I'll say is that things have been handled strangely. The gracious Duncan was mourned by Macbeth — well, he was dead. And the very brave Banquo went walking too late at night; you could say, if you like, that Fleance killed him, since Fleance ran away. Men shouldn't walk so late. Who can help thinking how monstrous it was of Malcolm and Donalbain to kill their kind father? A damnable deed! How it grieved Macbeth! Didn't he immediately, in righteous fury, cut to pieces the two guilty men, who were slaves to drink and prisoners of sleep? Wasn't that nobly done? Yes, and shrewdly too; for it would have angered anyone alive to hear the men deny it. So, as I say, he has managed everything well. And I do think that if he had Duncan's sons locked up — which, God willing, he never will — they would learn what it means to kill a father; and so would Fleance. But quiet! Because of some outspoken words, and because he failed to show up at the tyrant's feast, I hear Macduff is out of favour. Sir, can you tell me where he has taken himself?

The son of Duncan, From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth, Lives in the English court and is receiv’d Of the most pious Edward with such grace That the malevolence of fortune nothing Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduff Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward That, by the help of these (with Him above To ratify the work), we may again Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights; Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives, Do faithful homage, and receive free honours, All which we pine for now. And this report Hath so exasperate the King that he Prepares for some attempt of war.

Duncan's son, whose birthright this tyrant is keeping from him, lives at the English court, and is welcomed by the most devout Edward with such kindness that his bad luck takes nothing away from the high regard he's held in. Macduff has gone there to beg the holy king to help him rouse Northumberland and the warlike Siward, so that with their help — and with God above to bless the work — we may once more put food on our tables and sleep through our nights, keep bloody knives out of our feasts and banquets, pay loyal homage and receive honours freely given: everything we long for now. And this news has so enraged the King that he is getting ready for war.

Sent he to Macduff?

Did he send for Macduff?

He did: and with an absolute “Sir, not I,” The cloudy messenger turns me his back, And hums, as who should say, “You’ll rue the time That clogs me with this answer.”

He did, and when he got a flat "Sir, not I," the sullen messenger turned his back on me and grunted, as if to say, "You'll regret the moment you saddled me with this answer."

And that well might Advise him to a caution, t’ hold what distance His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel Fly to the court of England, and unfold His message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soon return to this our suffering country Under a hand accurs’d!

And that might well warn him to be careful, and to keep as far away as his good sense can manage. Let some holy angel fly to the court of England and deliver his message before he gets there, so that a swift blessing may quickly come back to this suffering country of ours under a cursed hand!

I’ll send my prayers with him.

I'll send my prayers along with him.