To what they were before: my pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!

(a)--When we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear.

The present reading seems to afford no sense; and, therefore, some
critical experiments may be properly tried upon it, though, the verses
being without any connexion, there is room for suspicion, that some
intermediate lines are lost, and that the passage is, therefore,
irretrievable. If it be supposed that the fault arises only from the
corruption of some words, and that the traces of the true reading are
still to be found, the passage may be changed thus:

--when we _bode ruin_
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear.

Or, in a sense very applicable to the occasion of the conference:

--when the _bold, running_
From what they fear, yet know not what they fear.

(b) But float upon a wild and violent sea
Each way, and move.

That he who _floats_ upon a _rough sea_ must move, is evident, too
evident for Shakespeare so emphatically to assert. The line, therefore,
is to be written thus:

Each way, and move--I'll take my leave of you.

Rosse is about to proceed, but, finding himself overpowered by his
tenderness, breaks off abruptly, for which he makes a short apology, and
retires.

NOTE XXXIX.

SCENE IV.

_Malcolm_. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
Weep our sad bosoms empty.
_Macduff_. Let us rather
Hold fast the mortal sword; and, like good men,
Bestride our _downfal birth-doom_: each new morn,
New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out
Like syllables of dolour.

He who can discover what is meant by him that earnestly exhorts him to
_bestride_ his _downfal birth-doom_, is at liberty to adhere to the
present text; but those who are willing to confess that such counsel
would to them be unintelligible, must endeavour to discover some reading
less obscure. It is probable that Shakespeare wrote:

--like good men,
Bestride our _downfall'n birthdom_--

The allusion is to a man from whom something valuable is about to be
taken by violence, and who, that he may defend it without encumbrance,
lays it on the ground, and stands over it with his weapon in his hand.
Our birthdom, or birthright, says he, lies on the ground, let us, like
men