MACDUFF: Who's that coming over here?
MALCOLM: By his dress I can tell he's my countryman, but I do not recognize him.
MACDUFF: My noble kinsman, welcome.
MALCOLM: I know him now. Lord Ross, may God alter the circumstances that keep us apart!
ROSS: Hello, sir.
MACDUFF: Is Scotland the same as when I left it?
ROSS: Alas, poor country! It's almost too frightened to look at itself. It is no longer the land we are born in—it is the land where we will die; where no one but idiots may smile.