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Were they not forc'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.
Mac. I have almost forgot the taste of fears : The time has been, my senses would have coolid 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 supt full with horrors; 230 Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry? *Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.
Mac. She should have dy'd hereafter;
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. Gracious my lord,
But know not how to do't.
[Striking him. Mes. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three mile may you see it coiping; say, a moving grove.
Mac. If thou speak'st false, Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, 'Till fainine cling thee : if thy speech be sooth, 260 I care not if thou do'st 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 no flying hence, nor tarrying here. I gin to be a-weary of the sun,
269 And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.-Ring the alarum bell :--Blow, wind!
come, wrack ! At least we'll dię with harness on our back. [Excunt,
Drum and Colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD, MAC
DUFF, and their Army, with Boughs. Mal. Now near enough; your leavy screens throw
down, And shew 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 us what else remains to do, According to our order. Siw. Fare
well. Do we but find the tyrant's power tò-night, 280 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. Alarums continued.
Mac. They have ty'd 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.
Mac. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. -1. Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter
290 Than any is in hell.
Mac. My name's Macbeth.
Mac. No, nor more fearful.
[Fight; and Young SIWARD is slain. Mac. Thou wast born of woman. But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, 299 Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. [Exit.
Alarums. Enter MACDUFF.
Macd. That way the noise is :-Tyrant, shew thy
face; If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children's ghosts 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 sheath again undeeded. There thou should'st be ; By this great clatter, one of greatest note..
Seems bruited: Let me find him, fortune! and
310 Enter MALCOLM and Old SIWARD. Siw. This way, my lord ;-the castle's gently ren.
Mal. We have met with foes
Mac. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword ? whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better
Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn.
Mac. Of all men else I have avoided thee : But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd With blood of thine already.
Maed. I have no words,'
Mac. Thou losest labour :
339 With thy keen sword impress, as mąkę me bleed :