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Is often laudable; to do good, sometime,

More suffer, and more sundry ways, than ever,
Accounted dangerous folly. Why then, alas! By him that shall succeed.
Do sput up that womanly defence,

Macd. What should he be?
To say, I have done no harm ?-What are these faces ? Mal. It is myself, I mean, in whom I know
Enter Murderers.

All the particulars of vice so grafted,
Mur. Where is

your
husband?

That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified, Will seem as pure, as snow, and the
Where such as thou may'st find him.

Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd
Mur. He's a traitor.

With my confineless harms.
Son. Thou ly’st, thou shag-ear'd villain.

Macd. Not in the legions
Mur. What, you egg

?

[Stabbing him. Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd
Young fry of treachery?

In evils, to top Macbeth.
Son. He has kill'd me, mother:

Mal. I grant him bloody,
Ran away, I pray you !

Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
[Exit Lady Macduff, crying murder, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin,

and pursued by the Murderers. That has a name: but there's no bottom, none,
SCENE III.-England. A room in the King's palace. In my voluptuousness; your wives, your daughters,
Enter Malcolm and MACDUFF.

Your matrons, and your maids; could not fill up
Mal. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there. The cistern of my lust, and my desire
Weep our sad bosoms empty!

All continent impediments would o'erbear,
Macd. Let us rather

That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth,
Hold fast the mortal sword, and, like good men,

Than such a one to reign
Bestride our down-fall’n birthdom! Each new morn Macd. Boundless intemperance ,
New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds

The untimely emptying of the happy throne,
As if it felt with Scotland, and yelld out,

And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
Like syllable of dolour.

To take upon you, what is yours. You may
Mal. What I believe, I'll wail ;

Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
What know, believe; and, what I can redress, And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will.

We have willing dames enough; there cannot be
What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance. That vulture in you, to devour so many,
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Was once thought honest: you have lov'd him well; Finding it so inclin'd.
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but some-

Mal. With this, there grows,
thing

In my most ill-compos'd affection, such
You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom, A stanchless avarice, that, were I king,
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,

I should cut off the nobles for their lands,
To appease an angry god.

Desire his jewels, and this other's house:
Macd. I am not treacherous.

And my more-having would be as a sauce,
Mal. But Macbeth is,

To make me hunger more; that I should forge
A good and virtuous nature

may
recoil

Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
In an imperial charge. But 'crave your pardon; Destroying them for wealth.
That, which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose: Macd. This avarice
Angels are bright still, though the brightest feli: Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicions root,
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Than summer-seeding lust, and it hath been
Yet grace must still look so.

The sword of our slain kings. Yet do not fear!
Macd. I have lost my hopes.

Scotland hath foysons to fill up your will,
Mal.Perchance,even there, wherel did find my doubts. Of your mere own. All these are portable,
Why in that rawness left you wife, and child, With other graces weigh’d.
(Those precious motives, those strong knots of love) Mal. But I have none. The king-becoming graces,
Without leave-taking ? - I pray you,

As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,

Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Bat mine own safeties! - You may be rightly just, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
Whatever I shall think.

I have no relish of them'; but abound,
Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country!

In the division of each several crime,
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure!

Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
For goodness dares not check thee. Wear thou thy Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
wrongs !

Uproar the universal peace, confogad
Thy title is affeer'd. - Fare thee well, lord !

All unity on earth.
I would not be the villain, that thou think'st,

Macd. o Scotland! Scotland!
For the whole space, that's in the tyrant's grasp,

Mal, If such a one be fit to govern, speak!
And the rich East to boot.

I am, as I have spoken.
Mal. Be not offended!

Macd. Fit to govern!
I speak not as in absolute fear of you.

No, not to live. - O nation miserable,
I think, our country sinks beneath the yoke,

With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,
It
weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash

When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?'
Is added to her wounds. I think, withal,

Since that the truest issue of thy throne
There would be hands uplifted in my right,

By his own interdiction stands accurs'd,
And here, from gracious England, have I offer And does blaspheme his breed?
Of goodly thousands. But, for all this,

Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore thee
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,

Oftner upon her knees, than on her feet,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country

Died every day, she liv'd. Fare thee well!
Shall have more vices, than it had before,

These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself,

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pray you?

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Have banish'd me from Scotland. — 0, my breast, Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker;

Each minute teems a new one.
Thy hope ends here!
Mal. Macduff, this noble passion,

Macd. How does my wife?
Child of integrity, hath from my soul

Rosse. Why, well.
Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts Mucd. And all my children ?
Tothy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth Rosse. Well too.
By many of these trains hath sought to win me Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace ?
Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me. Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did leave
From over-credulous haste. But God above

them. Deal between thee and me! for even now

Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech! How goes it? I put myself to thy direction, and

Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings, Unspeak nine own detraction; here abjure

Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour The taints and blames, I laid upon myself,

Of many worthy fellows, that were out; For strangers to my nature. I am yet

Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,

For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot. Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,

Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland At no time broke my faith, would not betray

Would create soldiers, make our women fight, The devil to his fellow, and delight

To dofl'their dire distresses. No less in truth, than life: my first false speaking Mal. Be it their comfort, Was this upon myself. What I am truly,

We are coming thither: gracious England hath Is thine, and my poor country's, to command: Lent us good Siward, and ten thousand men; Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach,

Au older, and a better soldier, none Old Siward, with ten thousand warlikemen,

That Christendom gives out!
All ready at a point, was setting forth:

Rosse. 'Would I could answer
Now we'll together: and the chance, of goodness, This comfort with the like! But I have words,
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent? That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once, Where hearing should not latch them.
'Tis hard to reconcile.

Macd. What concern they?
Enter a Doctor.

The general cause? or is it a fee-grief,
Mal. Well; more anon! - Comes the king forth, I Due to some single breast?

Rosse. No mind, that's honest,
Doct. Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls, But in it shares some woe; though the main part
That stay his cure: their malady convinces

Pertains to you

alone. The great assay of art; but, at his touch,

Macd. If it be mine, Such sanctity hath Heaven given his hand,

Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it! They presently amend.

Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, Mal. I thank you, doctor.

(Exit Doctor. Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound, Macd: What's the disease he means ?

That ever yet they heard. Mal. 'Tis call’d the evil:

Macd. Humph! I guess at it.
A most miraculous work in this good king,

Rosse. Your castle is surpriz'd, your wife, and babes
Which often, since my here-remain in England, Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,
I have seen him do! How he solicits Heaven,

Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
Himself best knows: but strangely- visited people, To add the death of you.
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,

Mal. Merciful Heaven !
The mere despair of surgery, he cures,

What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows! Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,

Give sorrow words! the grief, that does not speak, Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,

Whispers the v'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
To the succeeding royalty he leaves

Macd. My children too?
The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy;

That could be found.
And sundry blessings hang about his throne,

Macd. And I must be from thence!
That speak him full of grace.

My wife kill'd too?
Enter Rosse.

Roese. I have said.
Macd. See, who comes here?

Mal. Be comforted :
Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not. Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge,
Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither! To cure this deadly grief!
Mal. I know liim now. Good God, betimes remove Maed. He has no children. — All my pretty ones?
The means, that make us strangers !

Did you say, all ? — 0, hell-kite! All?
Rosse. Sir, Amen.

What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, Maed. Stands Scotland where it did ?

At one fell swoop? Rosse. Alas, poor country;

Mal. Dispute it like a man!
Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot

Macd. I shall do so;
Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where nothing, But I must also feel it as a man.
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; I cannot but remember sueh things were,
Where sighs,and groans, and shrieks,that rent the air, That were most precious to me. - Did Heaven look on,
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems And would not take their part? Sinful Macduf,
A modern ecstacy; the dead man's knell

They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,
Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Expire before the flowers in their caps

Fell slaughter on their souls : Heaven rest them now! Dying, or ere they sicken.

Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword! let grief
Macd. 0, relation

Convert to anger! blunt not the heart, enrage it!
Too nice, and yet too true!
Mal. What is the newest grief?

Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
Aud braggart with my tongue! - But, gentle Hearen,

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Cut short all intermission! Front to front

Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom,
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself! for the dignity of the whole body.
Within my sword's length set him; if he'scape, Doct. Well, well, well-
Heaven, forgive him too!

Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir !
Mal. This tune goes manly.

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice. Yet !
Come, go we to the king! Our power is ready; have known those, which have walked in their sleep,
Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth

who have died holily in their beds.
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above

Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night-gown; Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you look not so pale! - I tell you yet guin, Banquo's bumay;

ried; he cannot come out of his grave.
The night is long, that never finds the day. (Exeunt. Doct. Even so?

Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the
A CT V.

gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand!

What's done, cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to
SCENE I. -- Dunsinune. A room in the castle. bed!

(Exit Lady Macbeth.
Enter a Doctor of physic, and a waiting Genile- Doct. Will she go now to bed ?

Gent, Directly.
Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but can

Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad. Unnatural
perceive no truth in your report. When was it she

deeds
last walked?

Do breed unnatural troubles, infected minds
Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon More needs she thedivive, than the physician.
her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, God, God, forgive us all! Look after her;
write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. And still keep eyes upon her!-So, good night!

Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight:
once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watch- I think, but dare not speak.
ing! - In this slambry agitation, besides her walking, Gent. Good night, good doctor! Exeunt.
and other actual performances, what, at any time,

SCENE II, The country near Dunsinune.
have you heard her say?

Enter, with drum and colours, MexTETH, CATHNESS,
Gent. That, sir, which I will pot report after her.

Ancus, Lexox, and Soldiers.
Doct. You may, to me: and 'tis most meet, you

Ment. The English poweris near, led on by Malcolm,
should.

His uncle Siward, and the good Macdnff.
Gent. Neither to you, nor any one; having no wit- Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes
ness to confirm my speech.

Would, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm,

Excite the mortified man.
Enter Lady Macbeth, with a taper.

Ang. Near Birnam wood
Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.
upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her! 'stand close

Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his brother?
Doct. Ilow came she by that light?

Len, For certain, sir, he is not. I have a file
Gent. Why, it stood by her. She has light by her of all the gentry; there is Siward's son,
continually; 'tis her command.

And many unrough youths, that even now
Doct. You see, her eyes are open.

Protest their first of manhood.
Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut.

Ment. What does the tyrant?
Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies.
her hands!

Some say, he's mad; others, that lesser hate him,
Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem Do call it valiantfury: but, for certain,
thus washing her hands: I have known her continue He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
in this a quarter of an hour.

Within the belt of rule.
Lady M. Yet here's a spot.

Ang. Now does he feel
Doct. Hark, she speaks! I will set down what comes His secret murders sticking on his hands;
from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
strongly.

Those he commands, move only in command,
Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say! - One; Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
Two; Why, then 'tis time to do’t:– Hell is murky! Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
- Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier, and afеard? What Upon a dwarfish thief.
need we fear, who knows it, when none can call our Ment. Who then shall blame
power to account? Yet who would have thought His pester'd senses to recoil and start,
the old man to have had so much blood in him? When all, that is within him, does condemn
Doct. Do you mark that?

Itself, for being there?
Lady. M.' The thane of Fife had a wife ; where is Cath. Well, march weon,
she now ? – What, will these hands ne'er be clean?- To give obedience, where 'tis truly ow'd!
No more o’that, my lord, no more o’that! you mar all Meet we the medecin of the sickly weal;
with this starting.

And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
Doct. Go to, go to! you have known, what you Each drop of us !
should not.

Len, Orso much as it needs,
Gent. She has spoke, what she should not, I am sure To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds.
of that. Heaven knows what she has known.

Make we our march towards Birnam!
Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still : all the

[Exeunt, marchin perfuines of Arabia will not sweeien this little hand. SCENE II. Dunsinane. Aroom in the castle. Oh! oh! oh!

Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants. Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely Macb. Bring me no more reports! let them sly all charged.

'Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,

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I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? SCENE IV. - Country near Dunsinane: A wood in
Was he not born of woman? The spirits, that know
All mortal consequents, pronounc'd me thus:

Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD,
Fear not, Macbeth! no man, that's born of woman, and his Son, MacDUF, MENTETH, CATANESS, Angus,
Shall e'er have power on thee.- Then fly,false thanes, Lenox, Rosse, and Soldiers marching.
And mingle with the English epicures !

Mal. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand,
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,

That chambers will be safe.
Shallnever sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear. Ment. We doubt it nothing.

Siw. What wood is this before us?
Enter a Servant.

Ment. The wood of Birnam.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon!

Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a bough, Where got'st thou that gouse look ?

And bear't before him! thereby shall we shadow Serv. There is ten thousand

The numbers of our host, and make discovery Macb. Geese, villain ?

Errin report of us. Serv. Soldiers, sir.

Sold. It shall be done. Macb. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,

Siw. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant
Thou lily-liver'd boy! What soldiers, patch ?

Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, wheyface?

Our setting down before't.

Mul. 'Tis his main hope:
Serv. The English force, so please you.
Macb. Take thy face hence! - Seyron! - I am sick Both more and less hath given him the revolt;

For where there is advantage to be given,
at heart,
When I behold – Scyton, I say! - This push

And none serve with hiin but constrained things,

Whose hearts are absent too. Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.

Mucd. Let our just censures I have liv'd long enough: my way of life

Attend the true event, and put we on Is fall’n into the sear, the yellow leaf.

Industrious soldiership! And that, which should accompany old age,

Siw. The time approaches,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,

That will with due decision make us know,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate ;

What we shall say we have, and what we owe.
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not.

But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:
Seyton!

Towards which advance the war. [Exeunt, marching.
Enter Seyton.
Sey. What is your gracious pleasure ?

SCENE V. - Dunsinane. Within the castle.
Macb. What news more?

Enter, with drums and colours, Macbeth, Sertos, Sey. All is confirm’d, my lord, which was reported.

and Soldiers. Macb. I'll fight, tillfrom my bones my flesh be hack’d. Mach. Hangout our banners on the outward walls! Give me my armour !

The cry is still, They come. Our castle's strength Sey. 'Tis not needed yet.

Will laugh a siege to scorn : here let them lie,
Macb. I'll put it on.

Till famine, and the ague, eat them up!
Send out more horses, skirr the country round; Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours,
Hang those that talk of fear!-Give me mine armour! - We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
How does your patient, doctor?

And beat them backward home. What is that noise?
Doct.Not so sick, my lord,

[-4 cry within, of Women. As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,

Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. That keep her from her rest.

Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears. Macb. Cure her of that!

The time has been, my senses would have cool'd Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd,

To hear a night-shriek, and my fell of hair Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,

Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir Race out the written troubles of the brain,

As life were in't. I have supp'd full with horrors; And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,

Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cleanse the stuff?d bosom of that perilous stuff,

Cannot once start me. — Wherefore was that cry? Which weighs upon the heart?

Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead. Doct. Therein the patient

Macb. She should have died hereafter;
Must minister to himself.

There would have been a time for such a word. –
Macb. Throw physic to the dogs! I'll none of it. — To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff! Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
Seyton, send out!-Doctor, the thanes fly from me!- To the last syllable of recorded time,
Come, sir, despatch. - If thou could'st, doctor, cast And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The water of my land, find her disease,

The way to dusty death. Out, ont, brief candle!
And purge it to a sound and pristine health,

Life’s but a walking shadow; a poor player,
I would applaud thee to the very echo,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
That should applaud again. - Pull’t off, I say! And then is heard no more: it is a tale
What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug, Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Would scour these English hence? — Hearest thou of Signifying nothing. -
them?

Enter a Messenger.
Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Thou com’st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Makes us hear something.

Mess. Gracious my lord,
Macb. Bring it after me!

I shall report that which I say I saw, I will not be afraid of death and bane,

But know not, how to do it.
Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. (Exit. Mucb. Well, say, sir!

Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
Profit again should hardly draw me here. (Exit. I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,

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The wood began to move.

Enter MALCOLM and old SIWARD.
Macb. Liar, and slave!

(Striking him. Siw.This way, my lord!--the cattle's gently render'd:
Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so! The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;
Within this three mile you may see it coming;

The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
I say, a moving grove.

The day almost itself professes yours,
Macb. If thou speak'st false,

And little is to do.
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,

Mal. We have met with foes,
Till famine cling thee. If thy speech be sooth,

That strike beside us.
I care not, if thou dost for me as much.-

Siw. Enter, sir, the castle! (Exeunt. A
I pullin resolution, and begin

Re-enter MACBETA.
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,

Macb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
That lies like truth : Fear not, till Birnam wood On mine owo sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
Do come to Dunsinane; - and now a wood

Do better upon them.
Comes toward Dunsinane! — Arm, arm, and out!-

Re-enter MACDUFF.
If this, which he avouches, does appear,

Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turo!
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.

Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee:
I’gin to be a-weary of the sun,

But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd
And wish the estate of the world were now undone. With blood of thine already.
Ring the alarum bell! - Blow, wind! come, wrack !

Macd. I have no words,
At least we'll die with harness on our back. (Exeunt. My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain,

Than terms can give thee out!
SCENE VI. - The same. A plain before the castle.

(They fight.

Macb. Thoulosest labour:
Enter, with drums and colours, MalcoLM, Old SIWARD, As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air
MACDUFF, etc. and their army, with boughs.
Mul. Now near enough; your leavy screens throw Let fall ihy blade on vulnerable crests!

With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed:
down,

I bear a charmed life, which must not yield
And show likethose you are! - You, worthy uncle,

To one of woman born,
Shall, with my cousin, your right noble son,

Macd. Despair thy charm,
Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff, and

we,

And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd,
Shall take upon's what else remains to do,

Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
According to our order.

Untimely ripp'd,
Siw. Fare you well! -

Macb. Accursed be that tongue, that tells me so,
Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.

For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all That palter with us in a double senise,

And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd,
breath,

That keep the word of promise to our ear,
Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death!
(Exeunt. Alarums continued.

And break it to our hope. — I'll not fight with thce.

Macd. Then yield thee, coward,
SCENE VII. The same. Another part of the plain. And live to be the show and gaze o’the time.
Enter Macbeth.

We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Macb. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, Painted

upon a pole, and underwrit,
But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What's he, Here may you see the tyrant.
That was not born of woman? Such a one

Macb. I'll not yield,
Am I to fear, or none.

To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's fect,
Enter young SIWARD.

And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Yo. Siw. What is thy name?

Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
Macb. Thou'lt be afraid to hearit.

And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born,
Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter Yet I will try thelast. Before my body
name,

I throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macduff,
Than

any
is in hell.

And damn'd behim that first cries, Hold, enough!
Macb. My name's Macbeth.

(Exeunt, fighting. Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with drum and colours, title

MALCOLM, old SiwaRd, Rosse, Lenox, Axsus, Cath-
More hatefulto mine ear.

RESS, Menteri, and Soldiers.
Macb. No, nor more fearful.

Mal. I would, the friends, we miss, were safe arriv'd.
Yo.Siw. Thouliest, abhorred tyrant ; with my sword Siw. Some must go off: and yet by these I see,
I'll prove the lie, thou speak'st.

So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
[They fight, and young Siward is slain. Mal. Macduff is missing, and your poble son,
Macb. Thou wast born of woman,

Rosse. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, He only liv'd but till he was a mao;
Brandish'd by man, that's ofa woman born. [Exit. The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
Alarums. Enter MACDUFF.

In the unshrinking station, where he fought,
Macd. That way the noise is. – Tyrant, show thy But like a man he died.
face!

Siw. Then he is dead?
Ifthou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine,

Russe. Ay, and brought off the field : your cause o
My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
I cannot strikeat wretched kernes, whose arms Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
Are hir'd to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth, It hath no end.
Orelse my sword, with an unbatter'd edge,

Siw. Had he his hurts before?
Isheath again undeeded. There thou should'st be;

Rosse. Ay, on the front.
By this great clatter, one of greatest note

Siw. Why, then God's soldier be he!
Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!

Had I as many sons, as I have hairs,
And morel beg not.
(Exit. Alarum. I would not wish them to a fairer death:

37

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