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

SCENE before Dunfinane.

[Exeunt.

Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, and their Army with Boughs.

Mal.TOW, near enough: your leavy screens throw

N°

down,

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,

Those clam'rous harbingers of blood and death.

Enter Macbeth.

[Exe.

[Alarums continued.

Macb. They've ty'd me to a stake, 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 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.

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

I'll prove the lie thou fpeak'ft.

[Fight, and young Siward's flain.

Macb.

Macb. Thou waft born of woman;

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

Alarums. Enter Macduff.

[Exit.

Macd. That way the noise is: tyrant, fhew thy face; If thou be'ft flain, and with no ftroke 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 staves: Or thou, Macbeth, Or else my fword with an unbatter'd edge I fheath again undeeded. There thou should't beBy 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.

Siw. 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 almost itfelf profeffes yours,

And little is to do.

Mal. We've met with foes,

That ftrike befide us.

Siw. Enter, Sir, the castle.

Enter Macbeth.

[Exeunt. Alarum.

Macb. Why fhould I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own fword? whilft I fee lives, the gafhes Do better upon

them.

To him, enter Macduff.

Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn.

Macb. Of all men elfe I have avoided thee:

But get thee back, my foul is too much charg❜d

With blood of thine already.

Macd. I've no words;

My voice is my fword! thou bloodier villain,

Than terms can give thee out.

Q3.

[Fight. Alarum.

Mach.

Macb. Thou losest labour;

As eafy may'st thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen fword imprefs, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crefts,

I bear a charmed life, which must 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 thefe juggling fiends no more believ'd,
That palter with us in a double fenfe;
That keep the word of promife 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 fhew, and gaze o' th' time.
We'll have thee as our rarer monfters are,
Painted upon a pole, and under-writ,

• Here may you see the tyrant.'

Macb. I will 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, 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 first 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. Siw. Some mut go off: and yet by these I fee,

So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

Mal. Macduff is miffing, and your noble fon.

Roffe. Your fon, my Lord, has paid a foldier's debt; 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 station where he fought,

But like a man he dy'd.

Siw. Then is he dead?

Roffe. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of forrow Muft 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.

Siw. 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.

Mac. Hail, King! for fo thou art. Behold, where ftands
Th' ufurper's curfed head; the time is free:
I fee thee compaft with thy kingdom's Peers,
That speak 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 spend a large expence of time,
Before we reckon with your fev'ral loves,

And make us even with you. Thanes and kinsmen,,
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 fooner had his prowess confirm'd, In the unfhrinking station where he fought,

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

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 meafure, 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.

This, and what needful elfe

Exeunt omnes.

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

-by the grace of grace.

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

Whilft I, their King, that thither them importune,

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

Hop'ft thou my cure?

Hel, The greateft grace lending grace, &c.

2 Gent. of Verona.

In the like manner he loves to redouble other words:

And fpight of fpight needs must I reft awhile,
Now for the love of love and his foft hours.

&c. &c.

All's Well, &c.

3 Henry VI. Anto. and Cleop.