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Ring the alarum-bell; blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least, we'll die with harnefs on our back. [Exeunt.

SCENE before Dunfinane.

Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, and their Army with

Mal. Now,

Boughs.

TOW, near enough: your leavy screens throw
down,

And fhew like those you are. You (worthy uncle)
Shall with my coufin, your right-noble fon,
Lead our firft battle. Brave Macduff and we
Shall take upon's what else remains to do,
According to our order.

Si. 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, Those clam'rous harbingers of blood and death. [Exe. [Alarums continued.

Enter Macbeth,

Mach. They've ty'd me to a stake, I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must 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. Siry. No: though thou call'it thy felf a hotter name, Than any is in hell.

Macb. My name's Macbeth.

To. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear

Macb. No, nor more fearful.

r. Siw. Thou lieft, abhorred tyrant; with my

I'll prove the lie thou speak'ft.

fword

[Fight, and young Siward's flain.

Mach

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Mach. Thou waft born of woman;·

But fwords I fmile at, weapons laugh to fcorn,
Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.

Alarums. Enter Macduff.

[Exit.

Macd. That way the noife is: tyrant, fhew thy face;
If thou be'ft flain, and with no stroke of mine,
My wife and 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't be
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not.

Enter Malcolm and Siward.

[Exit. Alarum.

Sivu. 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 itself profeffes yours,

And little is to do.

Mal. We've met with foes,

That trike befide us.

Siw. Enter, Sir, the caftle.

Enter Macbeth.

[Exeunt. Alarum.

Mach. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own fword? whilft I fee lives, the gashes Do better upon them.

To him, enter Macduff,

Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn.

But

Macb. Of all men elfe I have avoided thee: get thee back, my foul is too much char g'd With blood of thine already.

Macd. I've no words;

My voice is in my fword! thou bloodier villain,

Than terms can give thee out.

Q3

[Fight. Alarum.

Macb.

Mach. Thou lofeft labour;

As eafy may't thou the intrenchant air

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

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

Macd. Defpair thy charm!

And let the angel, whom thou ftill haft ferv'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 there jugling fiends no more believ'd,
That palter with us in a double sense;
That keep the word of promife to our ear,

1

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

And live to be the fhew, and gaze o' th' time.
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole, and under-writ,

Here may you fee the tyrant.

Mach. I will not yield

To kifs the ground before young Malcolm's feet:
And to be baited with the rabble's curfe.
Though Birnam-wood be come to Dunfinane,
And thou, oppos'd, be 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 he, that firft cries, hold, enough.
[Exeunt fighting. Alarums.

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.
Siv. Some must go off: and yet by these I see,

So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

Mal. Macduff is mifling, and your noble fon.

Roffe. Your fon, my Lord, has paid a foldier's debt;:

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He only liv'd but till he was a man,

The

The which no fooner had his prow'fs confirm'd, (47) In the unfhrinking ftation where he fought,

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

It hath no end.

Siw. Had he his hurts before?
Roffe. Ay, on the front.

Siw. Why then, God's foldier be he!
Had I as many fons as I have hairs,

I would not with 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.

Siv. 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:
Ffee thee compaft with thy kingdom's Peers,
That fpeak my falutation in their minds :
Whofe voices I defire aloud with mine.
Hail, King of Scotland!

All. Hail, King of Scotland!

[Flourish.

Mal. We fhall not fpend a large expence of time,Before we reckon with your fev'ral loves, And make us even with you. 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,

(47) The which no feener had his process confirm'd, In the unfhrinking ftation where he fought,

But like a man, he dy'd.] The refolution, with which young Siward is defcrib'd to have dy'd, feems very much a copy of Cataline and his defperate affociates behaviour, in a much worfe caufe. Nam fore, quem quifque vivus pugnando locum ceperat, eum amiffa anima corpore regebat..

Saluft.

As calling home our exil'd friends abroad,
That fled the fnares 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 (48)
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.

(48)

[Flourish. Exeunt omnes.

This, and what needful elfe

That calls upon us, by the grace of heaven.] This is a reading only of Mr. Pope; for all the copies, that I have feen, read,

-by the grace of grace.

It is an expreffion our author is fund of: and fo he often ftyles the divinity himself, as well as his attribute.

Whilft I, their King, that thither them importune,

Do curfe the grace that with fuch grace hath bleft them.

Hop'ft thou my cure?

Hel. The greatest grace lending grac,

&c.

In the like manner he loves to redouble other words:
And fpight of fpight needs muft I reft awhile,
Now, for the love of love and his foft hours,

2 Gent. of Vero.

All's Well, &c.

3 Henry VI Anto, and Cleop

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