[Verse 1 — Macduff] Outside the English palace gate I'm down upon my knee, Scotland wears a collar now, she can hardly breathe or see, Malcolm, son of Duncan, you were born to hold the crown, Every hour you hesitate, another village drowns. [Verse 2 — Malcolm] Before I trust your sorrow, I must test the blade you hide, I'll paint myself a monster — watch where loyalty will bide, I'll claim my lust is bottomless, my greed will drain the land, Let's see how a true patriot answers a poisoned hand. [Verse 3 — Macduff] If you're worse than Macbeth, then my country has no cure, Fit for nothing, fit for no one, hopeless, sick, unsure — Macduff turns toward the door, his faith run thin and dry, Scotland, it seems, has only traded devils, not goodbye. [Verse 4 — Malcolm] Hold fast, Macduff — that darkness was only a test I spun, None of it was true of me, I'm Duncan's honest son, Ten thousand English soldiers now are waiting at the gate, Old Siward's setting forward — we will not come too late. They speak of "the evil," a sickness Edward cures with a touch alone, "The night is long that never finds the day." [Chorus] "Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break." Malcolm's counsel, plain and true as stone — Let the sorrow out before it swallows you whole. [Verse 5 — Ross] Ross crosses the threshold, his face gone ash and stone, Macduff, I carry tidings that should never reach a home, Your castle has been taken, your servants cut down where they stood, Your wife, your little children — their blood is in the wood. [Verse 6 — Macduff] "What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop?" Dam just means mother — fell means cruel and keen, The knife that gutted his whole house was swift and never seen. [Verse 7 — Malcolm / Macduff] Malcolm says strike back and meet the tyrant like a man, Macduff answers, "But I must also feel it as a man" — He will not bury sorrow just to join the fray, True strength admits the wound before it clears the way. [Chorus] "Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break." Not silence, not armor, but a voice set free — That is the lesson under the palace tree. [Bridge] Grief becomes a whetstone — the stone that hones the blade, Macduff sharpens his sword on every tear he's made, Not softened but readied, both a mourner and a man, Scotland watches, waiting, as he forms his plan. [Outro] Sword to sword with the tyrant, Macduff will stand and face, Malcolm proves a king needs mercy mixed with grace, Give sorrow words, then let the trumpet call be heard — Act Four, Scene Three: a kingdom keeps its word.
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