Malcolm.

'Tis his main hope;
For where there is advantage to be given,
Both more and less have given him the revolt,
And none serve with him but constrained things
Whose hearts are absent too.

Macduff.

Attend the true event, and put we on

Industrious soldiership.

Siward.

Let our just censures

The time approaches

That will with due decision make us know

What we shall say we have and what we owe.
Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate,
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate;
Towards which advance the war.

[Exeunt, marching.

SCENE V. Dunsinane. Within the Castle.

Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum and colours.

Macbeth. Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still 'They come!' Our castle's strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn; here let them lie
Till famine and the ague eat them up.

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.

[A cry of women within.

What is that noise?

Seyton. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Macbeth. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool'd 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 supp'd full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.-

[Exit.

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Re-enter SEYTON.

Wherefore was that cry?

Seyton. The queen, my lord, is dead.

Macbeth. She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That 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 comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

Messenger. Gracious my lord,

I should report that which I

But know not how to do it.

Macbeth.

say I saw,

Well, say, sir.

Messenger. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,

The wood began to move.

Macbeth.

Liar and slave!

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

I say, a moving grove.

Macbeth.

If thou speak'st false,

Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive

Till famine cling thee; if thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.-

I pull in resolution, and begin

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40

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 nor flying hence nor tarrying here.

I gin to be aweary 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.

SCENE VI.

Dunsinane. Before the Castle.

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[Exeunt.

Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, old SIWARD, MACDUFF, and their Army, with boughs.

Malcolm. Now near enough: your leavy screens throw

down,

And show 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.

Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,

Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.

Macduff. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,

Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII. Another Part of the Field.

Alarums.

Enter MACBETH.

Macbeth. 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.

Young Siward. What is thy name?

Macbeth.

Thou 'lt be afraid to hear it.

Young Siward. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter

name

Than any
Macbeth.

is in hell.

My name's Macbeth.

Young Siward. The devil himself could not pronounce a

title

More hateful to mine ear.

Macbeth.

No, nor more fearful.

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

Macbeth.

[They fight, and young Siward is slain.
Thou wast born of woman.-

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

Alarums. Enter MACDUFF.

[Exit.

Macduff. That way the noise is.-Tyrant, show 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 shouldst be;

By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not.

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[Exit. Alarums.

Enter MALCOLM and old SIWARD.

Siward. This way, my lord. The castle 's gently render'd:

The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;

The noble thanes do bravely in the war;

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

Macduff.

Enter MACDUFF.

Turn, hell-hound, turn!

Macbeth. Of all men else I have avoided thee: But get thee back; my soul is too much charg'd With blood of thine already.

Macduff.

My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain

Than terms can give thee out!

Macbeth.

I have no words;

[They fight.

Thou losest labour.

As easy mayst thou the intrenchant 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.

Macduff.

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.

Macbeth. 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,

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