Yet, erewhile,
A few short hours scarce past, when this vile hand
Attempted on thee insult; and was raised
Against thy honour; ready to be raised
Against thy life. If this my deep remorse—
M'Donald.
No more, no more. 'T is past. Remember it
But as thou would'st the action of another,
By thy enlighten'd judgment much condemn'd;
And serving as a beacon in the storms
Thy passions yet may raise. Remorse is vice:
Guard thee against its influence debasing.
Say to thyself, "I am not what I was;
I am not now the instrument of vice;
I'm changed; I am a man; Virtue's firm friend;
Sever'd for ever from my former self;
No link, but in remembrance salutary."
Bland.
[How[8] all men tower above me!
M'Donald.
Nay, not so.
Above what once thou wast, some few do rise;
None above what thou art.
Bland.
It shall be so.
M'Donald.