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Thunder. An Apparition of an armed Head rises. Macb. Tell me, thou unknown power,1 Witch. He knows thy thought; Hear his speech, but say thou nought. [duff! App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware MacBeware the thane of Fife.-Dismiss me :-Enough. [Descends. Macb. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks; [more :Thou hast harp'd my fear aright:-But one word 1 Witch. He will not be commanded: Here's anMore potent than the first. [other, Thunder. An Apparition of a bloody Child rises. App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee. App. Be bloody, bold, And resolute laugh to seorn the power of man, For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth.
Mach. Then live, Macduff; What need I fear of
But yet I'll make assurance double sure, [thee?
And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lies,
And sleep in spite of thunder.- What is this,
Thunder. An Apparition of a Child crowned, with
a Tree in his Hand, rises.
That rises like the issue of a king;
And wears upon his baby brow the round
And top of sovereignty.
App. Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him.
Macb. That will never be; Who can impress the forest; bid the tree Unfix his earth-hound root? sweet bodements! good! Rebellious head, rise never, till the wood Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd Macbeth Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath To time, and mortal custom.-Yet my heart Throbs to know one thing; Tell me (it your art Can tell so much,) shall Banqno's issue ever Reign in this kingdom!
Seek to know no more. Macb. I will be satisfied: deny me this, And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know:Why sinks that cauldron and what noise is this? [Hautboys.
1 Witch. Show! 2 Witch. Show! 3 Witch. Show! All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart! Come like shadows, so depart.
Eight Kings appear, and pass over the Stage in order; the last with a Glass in his Hand: Banque following.
Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down!
Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls:-And thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first-
A third is like the former:-Filthy hags!
Why do you show me this?-A fourth-Start, eyes!
What will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?
Another yet?--A seventh -I'll see no more:-
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
Which shows me many more; and some I see,
That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry:
Horrible sight!-Ay, now, I see, 'tis true;
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his.-What, is this so?
1 Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so-But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?___
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights,
And show the best of our delights;
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antique round:
That this great king may kind y say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.
[Music. The Witches dance, and vanish. Macb. Where are they? Goue?-Let this pernicious Stand aye accursed in the calendar![hour
No, indeed, my lord. Macb. Infected be the air whereon they ride; And damn'd, all those that trust them!-I did hear The galloping of horse: Who was't came by ? Len. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you Macduff is led to England. [word, Fled to England?
Len. Ay, my good lord.
Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits :
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook,
Unless the deed go with it: From this moment,
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And even now
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and
The castle of Macduff I will surprise; [done :
Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o'the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace his line. No boasting like a fool;
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool :
But no more sights!-Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are.
SCENE II. Fife. A Room in Macduff's Castle.
Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Rosse.
1. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the
Rosse. You must have patience, madam. [land?
He had none :
His flight was madness: When our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.
You know not, Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.
L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave His mansion, and his titles, in a place From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; He wants the natural touch for the poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. All is the fear, and nothing is the love; As little is the wisdom, where the flight So runs against all reason.
I pray you, school yourself: But, for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
The fits o'the season. I dare not speak much further:
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,
And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear;
But float upon a wild and violent sea,
Each way, and move.-I take my leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be here again:
Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before.-My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!
L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort :
I take my leave at once.
[Exit. Sirrah, your father's dead; And what will you do now? How will you live?
Son. As birds do, mother. L. Macd. What, with worms and flies? Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. L. Macd. Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the net, The pit-fall, nor the gin. [nor lime, Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
My father is not dead, for all your saying.
L. Macd. Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a Son Nay, how will you do for a husband! [father! L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.
L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet With wit enough for thee.
Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?
L. Maci, Ay, that he was.
Son. What is a traitor?
L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.
Son. And be all traitors, that do so?
Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools: for there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men, and hang up them.
L. Macd. Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father?
Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you | would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.
L. Macd. Poor prattler! how thou talk'st!
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
I doubt, some danger does approach you nearly:
If you will take a homely man's advice,
Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;
To do worse to you, were fell cruelty,
Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve
I dare abide no longer.
I have done no harm. But I remember now
I am in this earthly world; where, to do harm,
Is often laudable: to do good, sometime,
Accounted dangerous folly: Why then, alas!
Do I put up that womanly defence,
To say I have done no harm?What are these
Mur. Where is your husband?
L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified, Where such as thou mayst find him.
England. A Room in the King's Palace. Enter Malcolm and Macduff.
Mal. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and Weep our sad bosoms empty. [there Macd. Hold fast the mortal sword; and, like good men, Bestride our downfall'n birth.dom: Each new morn, New widows howl; new orphans cry; new sorrows Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out Like syllable of dolour.
What I believe, I'll wail;
What know, believe; and, what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongue,
Was once thought honest: you have lov'd him well;
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but
You may deserve of him throngh me; and wisdom.
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,
To appease an angry god.
Macd. I am not treacherous.
But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil,
In an imperial charge. But 'crave your pardon;
That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose:
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell:
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.
I have lost my hopes.
Mal. Perchance, even there, where I did find my
Why in that rawness left you wife and child (Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,) Without leave-taking?-! pray you,
Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
But mine own safeties:-You may be rightly just,
Whatever I shall think.
Bleed, bleed, poor country!
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,"
For goodness dares not check thee! wear thou thy
Thy title is affeer'd!--Fare thee well, lord:
I would not be the villain that thou think'st,
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
And the rich east to boot.
Be not offended:
I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
I think, our country sinks beneath the yoke;
It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds: I think, withal,
There would be hands uplifted in my right;
And here, from gracious England, have I offer
In my most ill-compos'd affection, such
A stanchless avarice, that were I king,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands;
Desire his jewels, and this other's house:
And my more having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more; that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good, and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth."
Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeding lust and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings: Yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foysons fill up your will,
Of your mere own: All these are portable,
With other graces weigh'd.
Mal. But I have none: The king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them; but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.
O Scotland! Scotland!
Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak :
I am as I have spoken.
Fit to govern!
No, not to live.-O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again;
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accurs'd,
And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal father,
Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore thee
Oft'ner upon her knees than on her feet,
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself,
Have banish'd me from Scotland.-O, my breast,
Thy hope ends here!
Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
By many of these trains hath sought to win me
Into his power and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous haste: But God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now
I put myself to thy direction, and
Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman; never was forsworn ;
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own;
At no time broke my faith; would not betray
The devil to his fellow; and delight
No less in truth, than life: my first false speaking
Was this upon myself. What I am truly,
Is thine, and my poor country's, to command:
Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach,
Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
All ready at a point, was setting forth :
Now we'll together; And the chance, of goodness,
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are yon silent?
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once,
'Tis hard to reconcile.
Macd. What is the disease he means!
"Tis call'd the evil;
A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which often since my here-remain in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures;
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy;
And sundry blessings haag about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.
See, who comes here?
Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not.
Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.
Mal. I know him now :-Good God, betimes re-
The means that make us strangers!
Macd. Stands Scotland where it did?
Alas, poor country;
Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where nothing,
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the air,
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell
Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps,
Dying, or ere they sicken.
Too nice, and yet too true!
What is the newest grief?
Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker;
Each minute teems a new one.
How does my wife?
Rosse. Why, well.
And all my children!
But in it shares some woe; though the main part
Pertains to you alone.
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.
Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound,
That ever yet they heard.
Humph! I guess at it.
Rosse. 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.
What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it bleak.
Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak,
Macd. My children too?
That could be found.
My wife kill'd too?
Wife, children, servants, all
And I must be from thence! I have said.
Be comforted: Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge,
To care this deadly grief.
Macd. He has no children.-All my pretty ones?
Did you say, all?-O, hell-kite!-All!
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell swoop?
Mal. Dispute it like a man.
I shall do so;
But I must also feel it as a man:
I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me.-Did heaven look on,
And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
They were all strack for thee! naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now!
Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue!-But, gentle heaven,
Cut short all intermission; front to front,
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself;
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too!
This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you
The night is long, that never finds the day. [Exeunt.
SCENE I. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.
Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a waiting
can perceive no truth in your report. When was it
Doct. I have two nights watched with you, bat
she last waiked?
Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did again, return to bed; yet all this while in a most
Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; How goes
Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings,
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
Of many worthy fellows that were out;
Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot :
Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
Would create soldiers, make our women fight,
To doff their dire distresses.
Be it their comfort,
We are coming thither: gracious England hath
Lent us good Siward, and ten thousand men;
An older, and a better soldier, none,
That Christendom gives out.
Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, having no witness to confirm my speech.
Enter Lady Macbeth, with a Taper.
Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and,
upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.
Doct. How came she by that light?
Gent. Why, it stood by her. she has light by her continually; 'tis her command.
Doct. You see, her eyes are open.
Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut.
Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.
Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem
Lady M Yet here's a spot. Doct. Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.
thus washing her hands; I have known her continue And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
in this a quarter of an hour.
Each drop of us.
Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam.
SCENE III. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.
Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.
Mach. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all;
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not horn of woman? The spirits that know
All mortal consequents, pronounc'd me thus:
Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman,
Shall e'er have power on thee. Then fly, false thanes,
And mingle with the English epicures:
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear.
Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say!-One; Two; Why, then 'tis time to do't: Hell is mu ky! -Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afear'd? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account. Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Doct. Do you mark that?
Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; Where is she now?-What, will these hands ne'er be clean ? -No more o'that, my lord, no more o'that you mar all with this starting.
Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.
Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known.
Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still; all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh oh! oh!
Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.
Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body. Doct. Well, well, well,-
Gent. 'Pray God it be, sir.
Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon;
Where got'st thou that goose look?
Serv. There is ten thousand-
Mach. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
Death of thy soul! those linen-cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
Serv. The English force, so please you. [at heart,
Macb. Take thy face hence.-Seyton !-I am sick
When I behold-Seyton, I say! This push
Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night-I have liv'd long enough: my way of life
gown; look not so pale:-I tell you yet again, Ban-
quo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave.
Doct. Even so?
Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the
gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand;
What's done, cannot be undone: To bed, to bed, to
Doct. Will she go now to bed-?
Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad; Unnatural deeds
Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the divine, than the physician.-
God, God, forgive us all! Look after her;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her :-So, good night:
My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight:
I think, but dare not speak.
Good night, good doctor.
SCENE II. The Country near Dunsinane. Enter, with Drum and Colours, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers.
Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not.
Sey. What is your gracious pleasure?
What news more?
Sey. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.
Macb. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be
Give me my armour.
"Tis not needed yet.
Macb. I'll put it on.
Send out more horses, skirr the country round;
Hang those that talk of fear.-Give me mine armour.-
How does your patient, doctor?
Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming faucies,
That keep her from her rest.
Cure her of that:
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Mal-Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
[colm, And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?
Therein the patient
Ment. The English power is near, led on by
His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff.
Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes
Would, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm,
Excite the mortified man.
Near Birnam wood
Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.
Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his
Len. For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file
Of all the gentry; there is Siward's son,
And many unrough youths, that even now
Protest their first of manhood.
What does the tyrant?
Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
Some say, he's mad; others, that lesser hate him,
Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Within the belt of rule.
His secret murders sticking on his hands;
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
Those he commands, move only in command,
Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.
Must minister to himself.
Come, put mine armour on give me my staff:
Macb. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.-
Seyton, send out.-Doctor, the thanes fly from me:-
Come, sir, despatch :-If thou couldst, doctor, cast
The water of my land, find her disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
That should applaud again.-Pull't off, I say.-
I would applaud thee to the very echo,
What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug,
Would scour these English hence !-Hearest thou of
Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
Makes us hear something.
I will not be afraid of death and bane,
Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.
Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
Profit again should hardly draw me here.
Country near Dunsinane: A Wood in View.
Enter, with Drum and Colours, Malcolm, Old Si-
ward and his Son, Macduff, Menteth, Cathness,
Angus, Lenox, Rosse, and Soldiers marching.
Ma!. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand
That chambers will be safe.
We doubt it nothing.
Siw. What wood is this before us?
The wood of Birnam. Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a bough, And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host, and make discovery
SCENE VI. The same. A Plain before the Castle.
Enter, with Drums and Colours, Malcolm, Old Si-
ward, Macduff, &c. and their Army, with Boughs.
Mal. Now near enough; your leafy screens throw
And show like those you are:-Yon, worthy uncle,
Siw. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
Our setting down befor't.
For where there is advantage to be given,
Both more and less have given him the revolt;
And none serve with him but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.
Let our just censures
Attend the true event, and put we on
The time approaches, That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have, and what we owe. Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate; But certain issue strokes must arbitrate: Towards which, advance the war.
[Exeunt, marching. SCENE V. Dunsinane. Within the Castle. Enter, with Drums and Colours, Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers.
Macb. Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still, They come: Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie, Till famine, and the ague, eat them up: Were they not fore'd with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful beard to beard, And beat them backward home. What is that noise? [A Cry within, of Women. Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir
As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.-Wherefore was that cry?
Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.
Macb. She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.-
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The wood began to move.
Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.
If thou speak'st false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
Till famine cling thee if thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.--
I pull in resolution; and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth: Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane ;-and now a wood
Comes toward Dunsinane.-Arm, arm, and out!-
If this, which he avouches, does appear,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.
I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun,
And wish the estate o'the world were now undone.-
Ring the alarum bell:-Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back. [Exeunt.
Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff, and we, Shall take upon us what else remains to dɔ, According to our order.
Fare you well.Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night, Let us be beaten, if we cannot tight.
[breath, Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. [Exeunt. Alarums continued.
SCENE VII. The same. Another Part of the Plain. Enter Macbeth.
Mach. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course.-What's he, That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none.
Enter Young Siward. Y. Siw. What is thy name? Macb. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. Y. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter Than any is in hell. [name Macb. My name's Macbeth. Y. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a More hateful to mine ear. [title] Mach.
No, nor more fearful. I'll prove the lie thon speak'st. Y. Sim. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my [sword [They fight, and Young Siward is slain. Macb. Thou wast born of woman.But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. [Exit. Alarums. Enter Macduff.
Macd. That way the noise is :-Tyrant, show thy
If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine,
My wife and children's ghost will haunt me still.
I cannot strike at wretched kernes, whose arms.
Are hir'd to bear their staves; either, thou, Macbeth,
Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge,
I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited: Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not.
Enter Malcolm and Old Siward.
Siw. This way, my lord ;-the castle's gently ren-
The tyrant's people on both sides do fight; [der'd:
The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
The day almost itself professes yours,
And little is to do.
That strike beside us. Siw.
Macb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them.
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
I bear a charmed life, which must not yield
To one of woman born.
Despair thy charm;
And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd,
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow'd my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense;