Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.

Mach. She thould have dy'd 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 fyllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.

Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking fhadow; a poor player,
That ftruts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of found and fury,

Signifying nothing.

Enter a Meffenger.

Thou com'ft to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

Mell. Gracious my lord,

I should report that which I fay I faw,
But know not how to do't.

Macb. Well, fay, fir.

Me. As I did ftand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The wood began to move.

Mach. Liar, and flave!

[Striking him.

Me. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not fo; Within this three mile may you fee it coming; I fay, a moving grove,

Mach. If thou fpeak'ft falfe,

Upon the next tree fhalt thou hang alive,
'Till famine cling thee: if thy fpeech be footh,
I care not if thou doft for me as much.-

I pull in refolution; and begin

To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,

That lies like truth: Fear not, till Birnam wood

Do

Do come to Dunfinane :—and now a wood
Comes toward Dunfinane.—Arm, arm and out!
If this, which he avouches, does appear,
There is no flying hence, nor tarrying here.
I'gin to be a weary of the fun,

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、

SCENE IV. Drum and Colours.

Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF, and their army, with boughs.

Mal. Now near enough; your leavy fcreens throw down,

And fhew like thofe you are :-You, worthy uncle,
Shall, with my coufin, your right noble fon,

Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff, and we,
Shall take upon us what else remains to do,
According to our order.

Siw. Fare you well.

Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.

[breath,

Macd. Make all our trumpets fpeak; give them all Thofe clamorous harbingers of blood and death.

[Exeunt. Alarums continued.

SCENE VII.

Enter MACBeth.

Macb. They have ty'd me to a stake; I cannot fly But bear-like, I must fight the courfe.—What's he, That was not born of woman? Such a one

Am I to fear, or none.

Enter Young StWARD.

Y. Siw. What is thy name?

Mach. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

Y. Siw. No; though thou call'it thyself a hotter Than any is in hell.

Mach. My name's Macbeth.

[name

Y. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a

More hateful to mine ear.

Macb. No, nor more fearful.

[title

Y.Siw. Thou lieft, abhorred tyrant; with my fword I'll prove the lie thou fpeak'ft.

[Fight; and Young SIWARD is flain.

Macb. Thou wait born of woman.

But swords I fmile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandifh'd by man that's of a woman born.

Alarums. Enter MACDUFf.

[Exit.

Macd. That way the noife is:-Tyrant, fhew thy If thou be'ft flain, and with no stroke of mine, [face; My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me ftill. I cannot strike at wretched kernes, whofe arms Are hir'd to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth, Or, elfe, my fword, with an unbatter'd edge, I theath again undeeded. There thou shalt be: By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited: Let me find him, fortune! and More I beg not. [Exit. Alarum.

Enter MALCOLM, and Old SIWARD.

Siw. This way, my lord;-the caftle's gently renThe tyrant's people on both fides do fight; [der'd: The noble thanes do bravely in the war;

The day almost itself profeffes yours,

And little is to do.

Mal

Mal. We have met with foes

That ftrike befide us.

Siw. Enter, fir, the castle.

[Exeunt, Alarum,

Re-enter MACbeth.

Macb. Why fhould I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own fword? Whiles I fee lives, the gashes Do better upon them.

Re-enter MACDUFF.

Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn.

Macb. Of all men elfe I have avoided thee: But get thee back; my foul is too much charg'd With blood of thine already.

Macd. I have no words;

My voice is in my fword; thou bloodier villain

Than terms can give thee out!

Macb. Thou lofeft labour:

[Fight.

As eafy may't thou the intrenchant air

Alarum.

With thy keen fword 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.

Macd. Defpair thy charm;

And let the angel, whom thou ftill haft ferv'd
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripp'd.

fo

Macb. Accurfed be that tongue that tells me For it hath cow'd my better part of man! And be thefe juggling fiends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double fenfe ; That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it in our hope.-I'll not fight with thee. Macd. Then yield thee, coward,

And live to be the fhew and gaze o' the time.

We'll

We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole; and under-writ,
Here may you fee the tyrant.
Mach. I will not yield,

To kifs the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
And to be baited with the rabble's curfe.
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born,
Yet will I try the laft: before my body

I throw my warlike fhield: lay on, Macduff;
And damn'd be him that first cries, Hold, enough.
[Exeunt fighting. Alarums

Re-enter fighting, and MACBETH is flain.

Retreat and flourish. Enter with Drum and Colours, MALCOLM, OLD SIWARD, ROSSE, Thanes, and Soldiers..

Mal. I would the friends we mifs were fafe arriv'd. Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

Mal. Macduff is miffing, and your noble fon.

Roffe. Your fon, my Lord, has paid a foldier's debt. He only liv'd but 'till he was a man ;

The which no fooner had his prowefs confirm'd
In the unfhrinking ftation where he fought,
But like a man he died.

Siw. Then he is dead?

Roffe. Ay, and brought off the field: your caufe

of forrow

Muft not be measur'd by his worth, for then

It hath no end.

Siw. Had he his hurts before?

Roffe. Ay, on the front.

Siw. Why then, God's foldier be he!

Had