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Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not. 51 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.

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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.

Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale. I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on's grave. Doct. Even so?

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SCENE II. The Country near Dunsinane. Enter, with drum and colours, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, and Soldiers.

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Geese, villain! Serv. Soldiers, sir. What soldiers, patch! Mach. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,

Ment. The English power is near, led on by Thou lily-liver'd boy.

Malcolm,

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Ment. What does the tyrant? Caith. Great Dunsinane be 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.

Ang. Now does he feel 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.

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Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey

face?

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Serv. The English force, so please you. Macb. Take thy face hence. Exit Servant, When I behold-Seyton, I say!--This push Seyton!--I am sick at heart Will cheer me ever or disseat me now. I have liv'd long enough: my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,

Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare Seyton!

not.

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Wherefore was that cry?

Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.
Mach. She should have died hereafter;

SCENE IV.-Country near Birnam Wood. Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, old SIWARD There would have been a time for such a word. and his Son, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITH-To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, NESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, Ross, and Soldiers, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, marching. To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief

Mal. Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand

That chambers will be safe.

Ment.

We doubt it nothing.
Siw. What wood is this before us?
Ment.
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
Err in report of us.

Sold.

It shall be done.

Siw. We learn no other but the confident
tyrant

Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
Our setting down before 't.

Mal.
'Tis his main hope; 10
For where there is advantage to be given,
Both more and less hath given him the revolt,
And none serve with him but constrained

things

Whose hearts are absent too.

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,
Signifying nothing.

Enter a Messenger.

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SCENE VI.-The Same. A Plain before the
Castle.

Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, MACDUFF, etc., and their Army, with boughs.

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

And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle,
Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
Lead our first battle; worthy Macduff and we
Shall take upon 's 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.

Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,

Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. Exeunt.

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They fight and young SIWARD is slain. Mach. 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 face:

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 kerns, 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
should'st be;

By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not.
Exit. Alarums.

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Macd.

Re-enter MACduff.

Macd.
Turn, hell-hound, turn!
Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee:
But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already.
I have no words;
My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain
Than terms can give thee out! They fight.
Mach.
Thou losest labour:
As easy may'st 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.

Macd.
Despair thy charm:
And let the angel whom thou still hast serv'd
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripp'd.

Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells meso,
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;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.
Macd. Then yield thee, coward,

And live to be the show and gaze o' the time:
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole, and underwrit,
Here may you see the tyrant.'
Mach.

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I will not yield. To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, And to be baited with the rabble's curse. Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born, Yet I will try the last: before my body

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I throw my war-like shield. And damn'd be him that enough!'

Lay on, Macduff, first cries 'Hold, Exeunt, fighting. Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, ROSS, Thanes, and Soldiers.

Mal. I would the friends we miss were safe 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 missing, and your noble son. Ross. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:

He only liv'd but till he was a man ;

The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died.

Siw.

Then he is dead?

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Ross. Ay, and brought off the field. Your
cause of sorrow

Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end.

Siv.

Had he his hurts before?

They say, he parted well, and paid his score: And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.

Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH'S head.
Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art. Behold,
where stands

The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
That speak my salutation in their minds;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine;
Hail, King of Scotland!
All.

Hail, King of Scotland!
Flourish.
Mal. Weshall not spend a large expense of time
Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you. My thanes and
kinsmen,

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Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do
Which would be planted newly with the time,
As calling home our exil'd friends abroad
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
Producing forth the cruel ministers
Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life; this, and what needful else
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace
We will perform in measure, time, and place:
He's worth more sorrow, So thanks to all at once and to each one,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.
Flourish. Exeunt.

Ross. Ay, on the front.
Siw.

Why then, God's soldier be he!
Had I as many sons as I have hairs,

I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And so, his knell is knoll'd.

Mal.

And that I'll spend for him.
Siw.

He's worth no more; 80

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Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, and Attendants.

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Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.

Hor. Friends to this ground.

Mar.

Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus.

Mar. What! has this thing appear'd again to-night?

Ber. I have seen nothing.

Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, And will not let belief take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight twice seen of us: Therefore I have entreated him along With us to watch the minutes of this night; That if again this apparition come, He may approve our eyes and speak to it. Hor. Tush, tush! 'twill not appear. Ber. Sit down awhile, a And let us once again assail your ears, That are so fortified against our story, What we two nights have seen.

Hor.

Well, sit we down,

And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.

Ber. Last night of all,

When yond same star that's westward from the pole

And liegemen to the Dane. Had made his course to illume that part of

Fran. Give you good night.

heaven

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