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Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate;
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate :*
Towards which, advance the war.

[Exeunt, marching.

SCENE V.-Dunsinane. Within the Castle.
Enter, with Drums and Colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.

Mact. Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, They come : Qur castle's strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine, and the 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 women, my good lord.
Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears :
The time has been, my senses would have coold
To hear a night-shriek; and my fellt 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 should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.

Macb. 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. Liar, and slave!

[Striking him. Mess. Let me endure your wrath, ift be not so: Within this three mile may you see it coming; I say, a moving grove. * Determine.

+ Skin.

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,
That lies like truth: Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane ;--and now a 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 oʻthe world were now undone.-
Ring the alarum bell :-Blow, wind ! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harnesst on our back.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-The same. A plain before the Castle. Enter, with Drums and Colours, MALCOLM, Old SIWARD,

MACDUFF, fc., 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.-The same. Another part of the Plain.

Enter MACBETH.
Macb. 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. Sim. 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.

* Shrivel.

+ Armour.

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.

[E.cit. Alarums. Enter MACDUFF. Macd. That way the noise is :-Tyrant, show thy face: If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children's ghost 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 sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited :t Let me find him, fortune! And more I beg not.

[Exit. Alarum.
Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD.
Siw. 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.

Mal. We have met with foes
That strike beside us.
Siw. Enter, Sir, the castle.

[Exeunt. Alarum, --
Re-enter MACBETH.
Macb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
Do better upon them.

Re-enter MACDUFF. Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn.

Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee:
But get thee back, my soul is too much charged
With blood of thine already.

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

[They fight,
Macb. Thou losest labour:
As easy mayst thon the intrenchant airs
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.

* Light troops.

+ Announced with clamour. * Air which cannot be cut.

Macd. Despair thy charm;
And let the angel, whom thou still hast served,
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 believed,
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. Than 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 underwrit,
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,
And thou opposed, 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 Colours, MAL

COLM, old SIWARD, ROSSE, LENOX, ANGUS, CATHNESS, MEN-
TETH, 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 lived 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 measured 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 knollid.

Mal. He's worth more sorrow,
And that I'll spend for him.

Siw. He's worth no more;
They say, he parted well, and paid his score:
So, God be with him !-Here comes newer comfort.

Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH'S Head on a Pole.
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. King of Scotland, hail !

[Flourish.
Mal. We shall not spend a large expense of time,
Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour 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 tiend-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. * Wealth, ornament.

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