ROSS. Your castle is surpris’d; your wife and babes Savagely slaughter’d. To relate the manner Were, on the quarry of these murder’d deer, To add the death of you.

MALCOLM. Merciful heaven!— What, man! ne’er pull your hat upon your brows. Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak Whispers the o’er-fraught heart, and bids it break.

MACDUFF. My children too?

ROSS. Wife, children, servants, all That could be found.

MACDUFF. And I must be from thence! My wife kill’d too?

ROSS. I have said.