MALCOLM: Sharpen your sword against this pain. Turn grief into anger. Don't block up your heart —unleash its rage.
MACDUFF: Oh, I could weep like a woman and brag on about how I will avenge them! But gentle heavens, don't keep me waiting. Bring me face to face with Macbeth, that devil of Scotland. Put him within reach of my sword, and if he escapes, may heaven forgive him as well!
MALCOLM: Now you sound like a man. Come, let's go to see King Edward. Our army is ready; all we need to do now is say our farewells.
Macbeth is ripe for the picking, and the heavens have chosen us as their agents. Take what cheer you can—a new day is coming at last.