Macbeth Act IV Scene II

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FIF
Fife, Macduff's Castle
What had he done, to make him fly the land?
You must have patience, madam.
He had none: His plight was madness. When our actions do not, our fears make us traitors.
You know not 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.
My dearest coz, I pray you, school yourself. But for your husband, he is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows the fits o' the season.
I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, it would be my disgrace and your discomfort. I take my leave at once.
Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
Sirrah, your father's dead. And what will you do now? How will you live?
What, with worms and flies?
With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
As birds do, Mother.
Poor bird! Thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime, the pitfall nor the gin.
Yes, he is dead. How wilt thou do for father?
Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.
Thou speak'st with all thy wit, and yet, i' faith, with wit enough for thee.
Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.
Nay, how will you do for a husband?
Why should I, Mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is dead, for all your saying.

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