Macbeth, Act 4, Scene 2

What had he done, to make him fly the land?

What had he done, to make him flee the country?

You must have patience, madam.

You must be patient, madam.

He had none: His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.

He had none. His running away was madness. When our actions don't make us traitors, our fears do.

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

You don't know whether it was his wisdom or his fear.

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.

Wisdom! To leave his wife, to leave his children, his house and his lands, in a place he himself runs away from? He doesn't love us. He lacks natural feeling. Even the poor wren, the tiniest of birds, will fight the owl to defend her young ones in the nest. It is all fear and no love at all; and there is just as little wisdom in it, when the flight runs so completely against reason.

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!

My dearest cousin, please, control yourself. As for your husband, he is noble, wise, sensible, and he understands best what these times demand. I don't dare say much more. But the times are cruel when we are called traitors and don't know it ourselves; when we believe rumours because we are afraid, yet don't know what we are afraid of, but drift on a wild and violent sea, tossed every way. I'll say goodbye to you now. It won't be long before I'm here again. Things at their worst will either stop, or else climb back up to what they were before. My pretty little cousin, my blessing on you!

Father’d he is, and yet he’s fatherless.

He has a father, and yet he is fatherless.

I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace and your discomfort: I take my leave at once.

I am such a fool that if I stayed any longer I would disgrace myself and distress you. I'll leave right now.

Sirrah, your father’s dead. And what will you do now? How will you live?

Boy, your father is dead. And what will you do now? How will you live?

As birds do, mother.

The way birds do, mother.

What, with worms and flies?

What, on worms and flies?

With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

On whatever I can get, I mean; and that's what they do.

Poor bird! thou’dst never fear the net nor lime, The pit-fall nor the gin.

Poor bird! You would never be afraid of the net or the birdlime, the pitfall or the snare.

Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is not dead, for all your saying.

Why should I be, mother? They aren't set for poor birds. My father isn't dead, whatever you say.

Yes, he is dead: how wilt thou do for a father?

Yes, he is dead. How will you manage without a father?

Nay, how will you do for a husband?

No — how will you manage without a husband?

Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.

Why, I can buy myself twenty at any market.

Then you’ll buy ’em to sell again.

Then you'll buy them to sell them again.

Thou speak’st with all thy wit; And yet, i’ faith, with wit enough for thee.

You speak with all the cleverness you have; and honestly, that's clever enough for a boy your age.

Was my father a traitor, mother?

Was my father a traitor, mother?

Ay, that he was.

Yes, he was.

What is a traitor?

What is a traitor?

Why, one that swears and lies.

Why, someone who swears an oath and then lies.

And be all traitors that do so?

And is everyone who does that a traitor?

Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.

Everyone who does that is a traitor, and has to be hanged.

And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?

And do they all have to be hanged, everyone who swears and lies?

Every one.

Every one of them.

Who must hang them?

Who has to hang them?

Why, the honest men.

Why, the honest men.

Then the liars and swearers are fools: for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them.

Then the liars and oath-swearers are fools, because there are enough liars and oath-swearers to beat the honest men and hang them instead.

Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father?

Now, God help you, poor little monkey! But how will you manage without a father?

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.

If he were dead, you'd cry for him. If you didn't, that would be a good sign that I'd soon have a new father.

Poor prattler, how thou talk’st!

Poor chatterbox, listen to you talk!

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.

God bless you, good lady! You don't know me, though I know perfectly well how honourable your rank is. I'm afraid some danger is coming very close to you. If you'll take a plain man's advice, don't be found here; get away, with your little ones. To frighten you like this is, I think, too brutal of me; but to let worse be done to you would be deadly cruelty, and that cruelty is very near you. Heaven protect you! I dare not stay any longer.

Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. But I remember now I am 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 have done no harm? What are these faces?

Where should I run to? I have done no harm. But now I remember I am in this earthly world, where doing harm is often praised, and doing good is sometimes considered dangerous foolishness. Why then, alas, do I offer that womanly defence and say I have done no harm? Who are these faces?

Where is your husband?

Where is your husband?

I hope, in no place so unsanctified Where such as thou mayst find him.

I hope he's in no place so unholy that someone like you could find him.

He’s a traitor.

He's a traitor.

Thou liest, thou shag-ear’d villain!

You're lying, you shaggy-haired villain!

What, you egg!

What, you egg!

Young fry of treachery!

You young spawn of treachery!

He has kill’d me, mother: Run away, I pray you!

He has killed me, mother. Run away, please!