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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