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SCENE VI. The Same. Before the Castle.

Drum and Colours. Enter MALCOLM, Old SIWARD,
MACDUFF, 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's what else remains to do,
According to our order.


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


Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.


SCENE VII. The Same. Another Part of the Field.
Alarums. Enter MACBETH.

MACB. They have tied 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.

Yo. Siw. What is thy name?

Thou 'It be afraid to hear it.
Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
Than any is in Hell.

My name's Macbeth.

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

No, nor more fearful.
Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred Tyrant; with my sword
I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

[They fight, and Young SIWARD is slain.

Sc. VI



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

Thou wast born of woman.

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 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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Enter, Sir, the castle.

SCENE VIII. The Same. Another Part of the Field.

MACB. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
Do better upon them.



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.

'That purposely aim wide of us.

[exeunt: alarums.


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I have no words,

My voice is in my sword; thou bloodier Villain
Than terms can give thee out!

[They fight.

Thou losest labour:
As easy may'st thou the intrenchant1 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.


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 me so,
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.

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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MAL. I would the friends we miss were safe arriv'd.
Siw. Some must go off:2 and yet, by these I see,
So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

1 undisseverable.

2 perish in the fight.


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


Retreat. Flourish. Enter with Drum and Colours,
MALCOLM, Old SIWARD, Ross, the other Thanes, and


ACT V MAL. Macduff is missing, and your
noble son.
Sc. VIII 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.


Then he is dead?

Ross. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of


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Why, then God's soldier be he!

He's worth more sorrow,

He's worth no more:
They say he parted well, and paid his score:
And so God be wi' 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!


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,

Hail, King of Scotland!


MAL. We shall not spend a large expense of time
Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you. My Thanes and



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:
So, thanks to all at once and to each one,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.


[Flourish: exeunt.



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