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Scene ill] Macbeth 97 He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy, And sundry blessings hang about his throne That speak him full of grace. Enter Ross. Macduff. See, who comes here ? Malcolm. My countryman; but yet I know him not. ieo Macduff. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. Malcolm. I know him now : good God, betimes remove The means that makes us strangers ! Ross. Sir, amen. Macduff. Stands Scotland where it did? Ross. Alas, poor country ! Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave : where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air, Are made, not mark'd ; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstasy : the dead man's knell no Is there scarce ask'd for who ; and good men's lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying or ere they sicken. Macduff. O, relation Too nice, and yet too true ! Malcolm. What's the newest grief?
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