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96 Macbeth [Act IV Already at a point, was setting forth. Now we'll together, and the chance of goodness Be like our warranted quarrel ! Why are you silent ? Macduff. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once T is hard to reconcile. Enter a Doctor Malcolm. Well, more anon. Comes the king forth, I pray you ? 140 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, 150 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