Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
Thát 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.

Thou com❜st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

Mess. Gracious my lord,

I should report that which I say I saw,

But know not how to do it.

Macb.

Well, say, sir.

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

Macb.

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Liar, and slave!

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[Striking him.

Mess. Let me endure your wrath if't be not so ; Within this three mile may you see it coming;

I say, a moving grove.

Macb.

If thou speak'st false,

Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,

Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,

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I care not if thou dost for me as much.-

I pale 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

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Comes towards Dunsinane.-Arm, arm, and out!-
If this which he avouches does appear,
There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.

I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun,

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.

F

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SCENE VI.-The same.

A Plain before the Castle.

Enter, with drums and colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARd, Macduff, &c., and their Army, with boughs.

Mal. Now, near enough; your leafy screens throw down,
—You, worthy uncle,

And shew like those you are.—

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.

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10

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.-The same.

Another part of the Plain. 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.

Young Siw.

Enter young SIWARD.

What is thy name?

Macb. Thou 'lt be afraid to hear 't ;-my name's Macbeth. Young Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear.

Macb.

No, nor more fearful.

Young Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

[They fight, and young SIWARD is slain.

Macb.

Thou wast born of woman.—

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

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[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 sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be ;
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not.

[Exit. Alarums.

Enter MALCOLM and old SIWARD.

Siw. This way, my lord;-the castle 's gently render'd: The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;

The noble thaneş do bravely in the war ;

The day almost itself professes yours,

And little is to do.

SCENE VIII.-The same. Another part of the Plain.

Enter MACBETH.

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

Enter MACDUFF.

Macd.
Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee:

Turn, hell-hound, turn.

But get thee back; my soul is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already.

Macd.

I have no words,

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

Macb.

As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air

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[They fight.

Thou losest labour:

With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;

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I bear a charmed life, which must not yield
To one of woman born.

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

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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;

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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.'

Macb.

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

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

[Exeunt, fighting.

Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, ROSS, LENNOX, ANGUS, CAITHNESS, MENTEITH, and Soldiers.

Mal. I would the friends we miss were safe arriv'd.
Siw. Some must go off; and yet, by these I see,

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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 ;

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The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd,
In the unshrinking station where he fought,

Ross. Ay, and brought off the field: your course of sorrow Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then

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He's worth more sorrow,

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He's worth no more;

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:

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