I fheathe 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 old SIWARD.

Siw. 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;

The day almost itself profeffes yours,

And little is to do.

Mach. Why fhould I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? whiles I fee lives, the gashes Do better upon them.

Macd.

Re-enter MACDUFF.

Turn, hell-hound, turn.

Macb. Of all men elfe I have avoided thee: 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.

[They fight.

Thou lofeft labour:

As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air

With thy keen fword imprefs, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests i

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

Macd.

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. Accurfed be that tongue that tells me fo,
For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
And be thefe 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 fhow and gaze o' the time.

We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,

Painted upon a pole; and underwrit,

Here may you fee the tyrant.

Macb.

I'll not yield,

To kifs the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunfinane,
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born,
Yet I will try the laft: Before my body

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

Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with Drum and Colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, ROSSE, LENOX, ANGUS, CATHNESS, MENTETH, and Soldiers.

Mal. I would the friends we mifs, were fafe arriv'd. Siw. Some muft go off: and yet, by these I see,

So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

Mal. Macduff is milling, and your noble son.

Roffe.

Roffe. Your fon, my lord, has paid a foldier's debt: He only liv'd but till he was a man;

The which no fooner had his prowefs confirm'd

In the unshrinking station where he fought,

But like a man he died.

Siw.

Then he is dead?

Roffe. Ay, and brought off the field: your caufe of forrow Muft not be measur'd by his worth, for then

Had I as many fons as I have hairs,

I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And fo his knell is knoll'd.

Mal.

He's worth more forrow,

And that I'll spend for him.

Sir.

He's worth no more;

They fay, he parted well, and paid his score:
So, God be with him!-Here comes newer comfort.

Re-enter MACDUFF, with Macbeth's head on a pole. Macd. Hail, king! for fo thou art: Behold, where stands The ufurper's curfed head: the time is free:

I fee thee compafs'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
That speak my falutation in their minds;
Whose voices I defire aloud with mine,—
Hail, king of Scotland!

All.

King of Scotland, hail! [Flourish.

Mal. We fhall not spend a large expence of time,

Before we reckon with your several loves,

And make us even with you. My thanes and kinfmen, Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland

In fuch 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,
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
Producing forth the cruel minifters

Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen;
Who, as 'tis thought, by felf and violent hands
Took off her life;-This, and what needful elfe
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 fee us crown'd at Scone.

[Flourish. Exeunt.

KING JOHN,

A

TRAGEDY,

BY

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

ACCURATELY PRINTED

FROM THE TEXT OF

Mr. STEEVENS's LAST EDITION.

Drnamented with plates.

London:

PUBLISHED BY E. HARDING, NO. 98, PALL-MALL; J. WRIGHT, PICCADILLY; G. SAEL, STRAND; AND VERNOR AND HOOD, POULTRY.