Rosse: "I have words that should be howl'd out in the desert air. And the main part pertains to you alone."
Macduff: "If it be mine; keep it not from me. Quickly let me have it."
Rosse: "Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes savagely slaughter'd."
[A pause; Macduff says nothing.]
Malcolm: "Merciful heaven! What, man, give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the oer-fraught heart, and bids it break."
Macduff: "My children too?"
Rosse: "Wife, children, servants -- all."
Malcolm: "Let's make us med'cine of our great revenge."
Macduff: "He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O, hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam?"
Malcolm: "Dispute it like a man."
Macduff: "I shall do so, but I must also feel it as a man! Did heaven look on, and would not take their part?"
Malcolm: "Be this the whetstone of your sword; let grief convert to anger."
Macduff: "Front to front, bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; within my sword's length set him!"
