Mach. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.Come, put mine armor on; give me my staff.Seyton, send out.-Doctor, the thanes fly from me:Coine, sir, despatch:-If thou couldst, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud again.-Pull't off, I say.— What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug, Would scour these English hence!-Hearest thou of them?

Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Makes us hear something.

Mach.

Bring it after me.I will not be afraid of death and bane, Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. [Exit. Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, Profit again should hardly draw me here. [Exit. SCENE IV.-Country near Dunsinane. A Wood in view.

Enter, with Drum and Colors, MALCOLM, old SIWARD and his Son, MACDUFF, MENTETH, CATHNESS, ANGUS, LENOX, Rosse, and Soldiers, marching. Mal. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand That chambers will be safe.

Ment.

We doubt it nothing. Siw. What wood is this before us? Ment. The wood of Birnam. Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a bough, And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host, and make discovery Err in report of us.

Sold.

It shall be done.

Macb. 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 ague, eat them up:

Were they not forced with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home. What is that noise? [A cry within of women.

Sey. It is the cry of woman, my good lord. Macb. 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 slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me.-Wherefore was that cry? Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead. Macb. 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 com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly
Mess. Gracious my lord,

I shall report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.

Macb.

Liar, and slave!

Well, say, sir. Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The wood began to move. Macb. [Striking him. Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three mile may you see it coming; I say, a moving grove. Macb. 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

To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,
Do come to Dunsinane;-and now a wood
That lies like truth: Fear not till Birnam 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 a-weary of the sun,
And wish the estate of the world were now undone.-
Ring the alarum bell:-Blow wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI-A Plain before the Castle.

Enter, with Drums and Colors, MALCOLM, old SiWARD, MACDUFF, &c., and their Army, with Boughs.

Mal. 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 us 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 speak; give them all breath,

Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. [Exeunt. Alarums continued.

SCENE VII.-Another Part of the Plain.

Enter MACBETH.

Mach. 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. Yo. Siw. What is thy name? Macb. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter

name Than any is in hell. Macb.

My name's Macbeth. Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title

More hateful to mine ear.

Macb.
No, nor more fearful.
Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my
sword

I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

[They fight, and young SIWARD is slain. Macb. Thou wast born of woman.But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn. Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. [Exit.

7 Shrivel.

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 kernes, whose arms

Are hired to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth,

Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge,

I sheath 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.
[Exit. Alarum.
Enter MALCOLM and old SIWARD.
Stw. 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 professes yours,

And little is to do.

I have no words, My voice is in my sword; thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out! [They fight.

Macb.

Thou losest labor:
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air1
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.

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. 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,

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

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

Here may you see the tyrant.

Macb.

I'll 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,
Reported with clamor.
2 Shuffle.

Foot-soldiers.

1The air which cannot be cut.

And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born, Yet I will try the last: Before my body

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

Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter with Drum and Co

lors, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, ROSSE, LENOX, ANGUS, CATHNESS, MENTETH, and Soldiers.

Mal. I would, the friends we miss were safe arrived.

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. 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 died.

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?

kinsmen,

Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honor named. What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,-
As calling home our exiled 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
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.
[Flourish. Exeunt

A soldier, by the honor-giving hand Of Cœur-de-lion knighted in the field. K. John. What are thou?

Rob. The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge.

K. John. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir? You came not of one mother then, it seems.

Bast. Most certain of one mother, mighty king, That is well known; and, as I think, one father: But, for the certain knowledge of that truth, I put you o'er to heaven, and to my mother; Of that I doubt, as all men's children may.

Eli. Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame thy mother,

And wound her honor with this diffidence.

Bust. I, madam? no, I have no reason for it; That is my brother's plea, and none of mine; The which if he can prove, 'a pops me out At least from fair five hundred pounds a year: Heaven guard my mother's honor, and my land! K. John. A good blunt fellow:-Why, being younger born,

Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance?

Bast. I know not why except to get the land.
But once he slander'd me with bastardy:
But whe'r I be as true-begot, or no,
That still I lay upon my mother's head;
But, that I am as well begot, my liege,

(Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!)
Compare our faces, and be judge yourself.
If old sir Robert did beget us both,

And were our father, and this son like him;-
O old sir Robert, father, on my knee,

I give heaven thanks, I was not like to thee.

K. John. Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here!

Eli. He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion's face,
The accent of his tongue affected him:
Do you not read some tokens of my son
In the large composition of this man?

K. John. Mine eye hath well examined his parts,
And finds them perfect Richard.-Sirrah, speak,
What doth move you to claim your brother's land?
Bast. Because he hath a half-face, like my father:
With that half-face would he have all my land:
A half-faced groat five hundred pound a year!
Rob. My gracious liege, when that my father
liv'd,

Your brother did employ my father much;

Bast. Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land; Your tale must be, how he employ'd my mother. Rob. And once despatch'd him in an embassy To Germany, there, with the emperor, To treat of high affairs touching that time: The advantage of his absence took the king, And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's; Where how he did prevail, I shame to speak; But truth is truth; large lengths of seas and shores Between my father and my mother lay, (As I have heard my father speak himself,) When this same lusty gentleman was got. Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd His lands to me; and took it, on his death, That this my mother's son, was none of his; And, if he were, he came into the world Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, My father's land, as was my father's will.

K. John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate; Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him; And, if she did play false, the fault was hers; Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, Who, as you say, took pains to get this son, Had of your father claim'd this son for his? In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world; In sooth he might: then, if he were my brother's, My brother might not claim him; nor your father, Being none of his, refuse him: This concludes, My mother's son did get your father's heir; Your father's heir must have your father's land. Rob. Shall then my father's will be of no force, To dispossess that child which is not his?

Bast. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, Than was his will to get me, as I think. Eli Whether hadst thou rather, be a Faulconbridge,

Trace, outline.

And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land;
Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion,
Lord of thy presence, and no land beside?
Bast. Madam, an if my brother had my shape,
And I had his, sir Robert his, like him:
And if my legs were two such riding-rods,
My arms such eel-skins stuff'd; my face so thin,
That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose,
Lest men should say, Look, where three-farthings
goes!

And, to his shape, were heir to all this land,
'Would I might never stir from off this place,
I'd give it every foot to have this face;

I would not be sir Nob in any case.

Eli. I like thee well: Wilt thou forsake thy
fortune,

Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me?
I am a soldier, and now bound to France.
Bast. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my
chance:

Your face hath got five hundred pounds a year;
Yet sell your face for five pence, and, 'tis dear.-
Madam, I'll follow you unto the death.

Eli. Nay, I would have you go before me thither. Bast. Our country manners give our betters way. K. John. What is thy name?

Bast. Philip, my liege; so is my name begun;
Philip, good old sir Robert's wife's eldest son.
K. John. From henceforth bear his name whose
form thou bear'st:

Kneel thou down Philip, but arise more great:
Arise sir Richard, and Plantagenet.

Bast. Brother, by my mother's side, give me your hand;

My father gave me honor, yours gave land:-
Now blessed be the hour, by night or day,
When I was got, sir Robert was away.

Eli. The very spirit of Plantagenet!

I am thy grandame, Richard; call me so. Bast. Madam, by chance, but not by truth: What though?

Something about, a little from the right,

In at the window, or else o'er the hatch:
Who dares not stir by day, must walk by night;
And have is have, however men do catch:
Near or far off, well won is still well shot;
And I am I, howe'er I was begot.

K. John. Go, Faulconbridge; now hast thou thy desire,

A landless knight makes thee a landed 'squire.-
Come, madam, and come, Richard; we must speed
For France, for France; for it is more than need.
Bast. Brother, adieu; good fortune come to thee!
For thou wast got i'the way of honesty.
[Exeunt all but the Bastard.
A foot of honor better than I was;
But many a foot of land the worse.
Well, now can I make any Joan a lady:-
Good den, Sir Richard,-God-a-mercy, fellow;
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter:
For new-made honor doth forget men's names;
'Tis too respective, and too sociable,

For your conversion. Now your traveller,-
He and his tooth-pick at my worship's mess;
And when my knightly stomach is sufficed,
Why then I suck my teeth and catechise
My picket man of countries:- -My dear sir,
(Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin,)
I shall beseech you.-That is question now;
And then comes answer like an ABC-book:-
O sir, says answer, at your best command;
At your employment; at your service, sir:
No, sir, says question, I, sweet sir, at yours:
And so, ere answer knows what question would,
(Saving in dialogue of compliment;
And talking of the Alps, and Apennines,
The Pyrenean, and the river Po,)

It draws toward supper in conclusion so.
But this is worshipful society,
And fits the mounting spirit, like myself:
For he is but a bastard to the time,
That doth not smack of observation

(And so am I, whether I smack, or no;)
And not alone in habit and device,
Exterior form, outward accoutrement;
But from the inward motion to deliver
Sweet, sweet, sweet, poison for the age's tooth:
Which, though I will not practise to deceive,