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. SCENE before DU NSI NANE. Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, and their Army with Mal. No Boughs. OW, near enough your leavy screens And fhew like thofe you are. You (worthy unele) Siw. Fare you well : Do We but find the Tyrant's Power to night, Macd. Make all our trumpets fpeak, give them all breath, Those 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 courfe. 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? Macb. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. Yo. Siw. No: though thou call'ft thy felf a hotter name, Than any is in hell. Macb. My name's Macbeth. Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear. P 3 Mach. 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. Macb. Thou waft born of woman; But fwords I fmile at, weapons laugh to fcorn, 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 aud children's ghofts will haunt me ftill. 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'st be By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune! And more I beg not. [Exit. Alarum. Enter Malcolm and Siward. 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 almoft it felf 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. Macb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? whilft I fee lives, the gafhes Do better upon them. To him, enter Macduff. Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn. Macb. Of all men else 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; My voice is in my fword! thou bloodier villain, Mach. Thou lofeft labour ; As cafie may'ft thou the intrenchant air [Fight. Alarum: With thy keen fword impress, as make me bleed: I bear a charmed life, which must not yield Macd. Defpair thy Charm! And let the angel, whom thou ftill haft ferv'd, Macb. Accurfed be that tongue, that tells me fo And live to be the fhew, and gaze o'th' time. Here may you fee the tyrant. To kifs the ground before young Malcolm's feet: I throw my warlike fhield. Lay on, Macduff: 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 see, 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; The which no fooner had his prowess confirm'd, Siw. Then is he dead? Roffe. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of forrow Muft not be meafur'd by his worth, for then It hath no end. Sir. Had he his hurts before? Roffe. Ay, on the front. Siw. Why then, God's foldier be he! I would not wifh them to a fairer death: Mal. He's worth more forrow, And that I'll spend for him. Siw. 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, All Hail, King of Scotland! [Flourish. Mal. We fhall not fpend a large expence of time, Producing Producing forth the cruel minifters Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like Queen; |