Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Lenox. Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous
Lenox. It was for Malcolme, and for Donalbane
Lenox. To kill their gracious Father? Damned Fact,
Lenox. How it did greeue Macbeth? Did he not straight
Lenox. In pious rage, the two delinquents teare,
Lenox. That were the Slaues of drinke, and thralles of sleepe?
Lenox. Was not that Nobly done? I, and wisely too:
Lenox. For 'twould haue anger'd any heart aliue
Lenox. To heare the men deny't. So that I say,
Lenox. He ha's borne all things well, and I do thinke,
Lenox. That had he Duncans Sonnes vnder his Key,
Lenox. (As, and't please Heauen he shall not) they should finde
Lenox. What 'twere to kill a Father: So should Fleans.
Lenox. But peace; for from broad words, and cause he fayl'd
Lenox. His presence at the Tyrants Feast, I heare
Lenox. Macduffe liues in disgrace. Sir, can you tell
Lenox. Where he bestowes himselfe?
Lord. Lord.
Lord. The Sonnes of Duncane
Lord. (From whom this Tyrant holds the due of Birth)