As life were in't. I have fupt full with horrors;
Direnefs, familiar to my flaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that Cry?
Sey. The Queen, my Lord, is dead.

Macb. She fhould have dy'd hereafter;
There would have been a time for fuch 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 dufty 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 ftory quickly..
Mef. My gracious lord,

I fhould report That which, I fay, I faw,
But know not how to do't.

Macb. Well, fay it, Sir.

Mef. As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The Wood began to move.

Mach. Liar, and slave!

[Striking him.

Mef. 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 speak'ft falfe,

Upon the next tree shalt 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 th' equivocation of the fiend,

That lies like truth. "Fear not, 'till Birnam-wood "Do come to Dunfinane," — and now a wood

Comes toward Dunfinane. Arm, arm, and out!
If this, which he avouches, does appear,

There

There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here,
I 'gin to be a weary of the Sun;

And wish, the ftate o'th' world were now undone.
Ring the alarum Bell; blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least, we'll die with harness on our back. [Exeunt.

SCENE before DUNSINANE.

Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, and their Army with Boughs.

YOW, near enough: your leavy fcreens throw

Mal. No down,

And fhew like thofe you are.

You (worthy uncle)
Shall with my Coufin, your right-noble fon,
Lead our first battle. Brave 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 fpeak, give them all
breath,

Thofe clam'rous harbingers of blood and death. [Exe.

Enter Macbeth.

[Alarums continued.

Macb. They've ty'd me to a stake, I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I muft fight the course. What's he, That was not born, of woman? fuch a one

Am I to fear, or none.

Enter young Siward.

Yo. Siw. What is thy name?

Mach. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

Yo. Siw. No: though thou call'ft thy felf a hotter

name,

Than any is in hell.

Mach. My name's Macbeth.

Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear.

P 3

Macb.

Mach. No, nor more fearful.

Yo. Siw. Thou lieft, abhorred Tyrant; with my fword

I'll prove the lie thou speak'ft.

[Fight, and young Siward's flain.

Mach. Thou waft born of woman;

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

Alarums. Enter Macduff.

[Exit.

Macd. That way the noife is: Tyrant, fhew thy face; If thou be'ft flain, and with no ftroke of mine, My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still. I cannot ftrike at wretched Kernes, whofe arms Are hir'd to bear their ftaves: Or thou, Macbeth, Or elfe my fword with an unbatter'd edge

I fheath again undeeded. There thou should'ft be-
By this great clatter, one of greatest note

Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not.

Enter Malcolm and Siward.

[Exit. Alarum.

Siw. This way, my lord, the Caftle's gently render'd: The tyrant's people on both fides do fight; The noble Thanes do bravely in the war ;

The day almost itself profeffes yours,

And little is to do.

Mal. We've met with foes,

That ftrike befide us.

Siw. Enter, Sir, the Castle.

Enter Macbeth.

[Exeunt. Alarum.

Mach. Why fhould I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own fword? whilst I fee lives, the gashes

Do better upon

them.

To him, 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.

Macd. I've no words;

[Fight. Alarum.

My voice is in my fword! thou bloodier villain,
Than terms can give thee out.

Mach. Thou losest labour;

As eafie may'ft thou the intrenchant air

With thy keen fword imprefs, as make me bleed :
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crefts,

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.

Mach. Accurfed be that tongue, that tells me so,
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 to our hope! I'll not fight with thee.
Macd. Then yield thee, coward,

And live to be the fhew, and gaze o'th' time.
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 Dunfinane,
And thou, oppos'd, be of no woman born,
Yet I will try the laft. Before my body
I throw my warlike fhield. Lay on, Macduff;
And damn'd be he, that firft cries, " hold, enough.
[Exeunt fighting. Alarums.

Retreat and flourish. Enter with Drum and Colours,
Malcolm, Siward, Roffe, Thanes, and Soldiers.

Mal. I would, the friends, we mifs, were fafe arriv'd.
Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these I fee,

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 prowess confirm'd,
In the unfhrinking ftation where he fought,
But like a man he dy'd.

Siw. Then is he 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 I as many fons as I have hairs,

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

Mal. He's worth more forrow,

And that I'll spend for him.

Sia. He's worth no more;

They fay, he parted well, and paid his fcore.
So, God be with him!-- Here comes newer comfort.

Enter Macduff, with Macbeth's head.

Macd. Hail, King! for fo thou art. Behold, where ftands

Th' Ufurper's curfed head; the time is free:
I fee thee compaft with thy Kingdom's Peers,
That fpeak my falutation in their minds:
Whofe voices I defire aloud with mine

Hail, King of Scotland!

All. Hail, King of Scotland!

[Flourish.

Mal. We fhall not spend a large expence of time,
Before we reckon with your fev'ral loves,
And make us even with you. Thanes and kinfmen,
Henceforth be Earls, the first that ever Scotland
In fuch 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 fnares of watchful tyranny;

Producing