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Keeps ftill in Dunfinane, and will endure
Our setting down before't.

Mal. 'Tis his main hope,

9 For where there is advantage to be given,
Both more and lefs have given him the Revolt;
And none ferve with him but conftrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.

Macd. Let our juft cenfures

Attend the true event, and put we on
Industrious foldiership.

Siw. The time approaches,

That will with due decifion make us know
'What we shall fay we have, and what we owe;
Thoughts fpeculative their unfure hopes relate,
But certain iffue Strokes muft arbitrate,
Towards which, advance the war. [Exeunt marching.

not belong to him; (namely confidence, or repofing himself fecurely in any thing or perfon) while they rejected the true one, expreffive of a tyrant's jealousy and fufpicion, and declarative of the fact. We muft furely read,

the CONFIN'd tyrant. WARBURTON. He was confident of fuccefs; fo confident that he would not fly, but endure their fetting down before his caftle.

9 For where there is advantage
to be given,

Both more and less have given him the Revolt;] The impropriety of the expreffion advantage to be given, instead of advantage given, and the disagreeable repetition of the word given in the next line, incline me to

read,

-where there is a 'vantage to be gone,

Both more and lefs have given

him the Revolt.

Advantage or 'vantage, in the time of Shakespeare, fignified opportunity. He fut up himself and bis foldiers, fays Malcolm, in the caftle, because when there is an opportunity to be gone they all deJert him.

More and lefs is the fame with greater and lefs. So in the interpolated Mandeville, a book of that age, there is a chapter of India the more and the less,

* What we shall fay we have, and what we owe:] i. e. property and allegiance.

WARBURTON. 2 Arbitrate is determine.

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S CENE V.

Changes to the Castle of Dunfinane.

Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers with drums and colours.

Mach.

ANG out our banners on the outward walls,

HA

The Cry is ftill, they come. Our Caftle's ftrength
Will laugh a fiege to fcorn.

Here let them lye, 'Till famine and the ague eat them up;

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Were they not forc'd with thofe that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home. What is that noife?
[A cry within of women.
Sey. It is the cry of women, my good Lord.
Mach. I have almoft forgot the taste of fears
The time has been, my fenfes would have cool'd
To hear a night fhriek, and my fell of hair
Would at a difmal treatife rouze and ftir,
As life were in't. I have fupt full with horrors,
Direnefs, familiar to my flaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once ftart me. Wherefore was that Cry?
Sey. The Queen, my Lord, is dead.
Macb. She fhould have dy'd hereafter;

3

fell of hair] My hairy part, my capillitium. Fell is fkin. 4—I have fupt full with borrors;] The Oxford Editor alters this to,

furfeited with horrors; And fo, for the fake of a politer phrafe, has made the fpeaker talk abfurdly. For the thing we furfeit of, we behold with uneafinefs and abhorrence. But

There

the speaker fays, the things he fupt full of, were grown familiar to him, and he viewed them without emotion. WARBURTON. 5 She should have died hereaf

ter: There would have been a time

for fuch a word.] This paffage has very jufly been fufpected of being corrupt. It is not apparent for what word there

would

There would have been a time for fuch a word.".
To-morrow, and to morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to-day,
To the laft fyllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

7 The way to dufty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking fhadow, a poor Player,
That ftruts and frets his hour upon the Stage,
And then is heard no more! It is a Tale,

would have been a time, and that
there would or would not be a
time, for any word feems not a
confideration of importance fuf-
ficient to tranfport Macbeth into
the following exclamation. I
read therefore,

She should have dy'd hereafter. There would have been a time for-fuch a world !-To morrow, &c. It is a broken fpeech, in which only part of the thought is expreffed, and may be paraphrafed thus: The Queen is dead. Mac beth. Her death fhould have been deferred to fome more peaceful hour; bad he lived longer, there would at length have been a time for the honours due to her as a Queen, and that refpect which I owe her for ber fidelity and love. Such is the world-fuch is the condition of human life, that we always think to-morrow will be happier than to-day, but to-morrow and tomorrow feals over us unerjoyed and unregarded, and we full linger in the fame expectation to the moment appointed for our end. All thefe days, which have thus paffed away, have fent multitudes of "fools to the grave, who were engraffed by the fame dream of future felicity, and, when life was de

7

parting from them," were like me
reckoning on to-morrow.

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Such was once my conjecture, but I am now lefs confident. Macbeth might mean, that there would have been a more convenient time for fuch a word, for fuch intelligence, and fo fall into the following reflection. We fay we fend word when we give intelligence.

To the last fyllable of record

ed time; ] Recorded time feems to fignify the time fixed in the decrees of heaven for the period of life. The record of futurity is indeed no accurate expreffion, but as we only know tranfactions paft or prefent, the language of men affords no term for the volumes of prefcience, in which future events may be fuppofed to be written.

7 The way to DUSTY death-] We fhould read DUSKY, as appears from the figurative term lighted. The Oxford Editor has condefcended to approve of it.

WARBURTON.

Dufty is a very natural epithet.
The fecond folio has,

The way to ftudy death.
which Mr. Upton prefers, but it
is only an errour by an acciden-
tal tranfpofition of the types.

Told

.

H

Told by an idiot, full of found and fury,

Signifying nothing!

Enter a Mejenger.

Thou com'ft to use thy tongue. Thy ftory quickly.
Mef. My gracious Lord,

I should report That which, I fay, I saw,
But know not how to do't.
Mach. Well fay it, Sir.

Mef. As I did ftand my watch upon the hill,
I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The Wood began to move.

Mach. Liar, and slave!

[Striking bim.

Mef. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not fo. Within this three mile may you fee it coming; 1 fay, a moving grove.

Macb. If thou fpeak'ft falfe,

Upon the next tree fhalt thou hang alive,
'Till famine cling thee; if thy fpeech be footh,
I care not, if thou doft for me as much.
-I pull in Refolution, and begin

To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth. Fear not, 'till Birnam-wood
Do come to Dunfinane.——and now a wood
Comes towards Dunfinane. Arm, arm, and out!
If this, which he avouches, does appear,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here
I'gin to be weary of the Sun;

And wifh, the ftate o'th' world were now undone.

I pull in Refolution, and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,

That lies like truth-] Though this is the reading of all the editions, yet as it is a phrafe without either example, elegance or propriety, it is furcly better to

read,

It is

I pall in Refolution,—— I languifh in my conftancy, my confidence begins to forfake me. fcarcely neceffary to obferve how eafily pall might be changed into pull by a negligent writer, or mistaken for it by an unfkilful printer.

Ring

Ring the alarum Bell. Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least, we'll die with harness on our back. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI

Before Dunfinane.

Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, and their Army

Mal.

with Boughs.

OW, near enough. Your leavy screens throw down,

Now

And fhew like thofe you are. You, worthy uncle,
Shall with my Coufin, your right-noble fon,
Lead our first battle. Brave 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 fpeak, give them all
breath,

Thofe clam'rous harbingers of blood and death. [Exe.

Enter Macbeth.

[Alarums continued.

Mach. They've ty'd me to a ftake, 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?

Mach. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

Yo. Siw. No, though thou call'ft thyfelf a hotter

name,

Than any is in hell.

Mach.

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