Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;

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.

Mac. 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;

That keep the word of promise to our ear,

340

And break it to our hope.-I'll not fight with thee.
Macd. Then yield thee, coward,

And live to be the shew and gaze o' the time.
We'll have thee, as our rare monsters are,
Painted upon a pole; and under writ,

Here may you see the tyrant.

Mac. 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

350

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

Re-enter

Re-enter fighting, and MACBETH is slain.

Retreat and Flourish. Enter with Drum and Colours, MALCOLM, Old SIWARD, ROSSE, Thanes, and Soldiers.

Mal. I would the friends we miss, were safe 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 missing, and your noble son.·

360

Rosse. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt: He only liv'd but till he was a man ;

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

But like a man he dy'd.

Siw. Then he is dead?

Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause

of sorrow

Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then

It hath no end.

Siw. Had he his hurts before?

Rosse. Ay, on the front.

Siw. Why then, God's soldier be he!

Had I as many sons as I have hairs,

I would not wish them to a fairer death:

And so his knell is knoll'd.

Mal. He's worth more sorrow,

370

And that I'll spend for him.

Siw. He's worth no more;

They say, he parted well, and paid his score:

ვზი And

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:
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
That speak my salutation in their minds;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine,-
Hail, king of Scotland!

All. Hail, king of Scotland!

[Flourish.

Mal. We shall not spend a large expence of time, Before we reckon with your several loves,

390
And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such 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 ministers

Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen;
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life;--This, and what needful else 400
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 see us crown'd at Scone.

The following Scenes are not in the original Copies, but have been introduced in Representation, and set to Musick by Mr. LoCKE, with Alterations by Dr. ARNE.

[AT THE END OF THE SECOND ACT.]

The SCENE changes to a Wood. Thunder and Lightning. Enter several Witches and sing.

1 Witch.

SPEAK, sister, is the deed done?

2 Witch. Long agó, long ago; Above twelve glasses since have run.

3 Witch, Ill deeds are seldom'slow,

Or single, but following crimes on former wait.

4 Witch. The worst of creatures safest propagate, Many more murders must this one ensue;

Dread horrors still abound,

And ev'ry place surround,
As if in death were found

Propagation too.

2 Witch. He must!

3 Witch. He shall!

Chor. We should rejoice when good kings bleed.

When cattle die, about, about we go;

When lightning and dread thunder

Bend stubborn rocks in funder,

And fill the world with wonder,

What should we do

Cher.

Chor. Rejoice-we should rejoice.
When winds and waves are warring,
Earthquakes the mountains tearing,
And monarchs die despairing,
What should we do?

Chor, Rejoice-we should rejoice.

I.

1 Witch. Let's have a dance upon the heath,

We gain more life by Duncan's death.

2 Witch. Sometimes like brinded cats we shew,

Having no musick but our mew,

To which we dance in some old mill,
Upon the hopper, stone, or wheel,

To fome old faw, or bardish rhime,

[END OF THE FIFTH SCENE IN THE THIRD ACT.]