MACDUFF: This greed is worse than lust because you won't outgrow it. It is the sword that has slain many of our kings. And yet, do not fear—Scotland has enough treasures in its coffers to satisfy you. All of your evils are bearable when balanced against your noble qualities.
MALCOLM: But I have no noble qualities. The graces that a king should have—justice, truth, moderation, stability, generosity, perseverance, mercy, humility, devotion, patience, courage, bravery–I have no trace of them.
Instead, I overflow with every variation of every vice. No, if I had power I would throw friendship into hell, turn the peaceful universe to chaos, and set all men on earth against each other.
MACDUFF: Oh Scotland, Scotland!
MALCOLM: If a man like me is fit to be king, then tell me so. I am exactly as I have said I am.
MACDUFF: Fit to be king? You're not fit to live! Oh miserable nation with a usurping, murderous tyrant on your throne, when will you see peaceful days again? The man who has a right to the throne is, by his own admission, a cursed man and a disgrace to the royal family!
Your royal father Duncan was a saintly king. Your mother spent more time on her knees in prayer than she did on her feet, and she lived every day in zealous piety.
Fare you well! The evils inside you have driven me from Scotland forever. Oh my heart, your hope dies here!