That ftruts and frets his hour upon the Stage,
And then is heard no more! It is a Tale,
Told by an ideot, full of found and fury,
Signifying nothing!

Enter a Meffenger.

Thou com'ft to ufe thy tongue: thy ftory quickly.
Mef. My gracious lord,

I fhould report That which, I say, I saw,
But know not how to do't.

Mach. Well, fay it, Sir.

Mef. As I did ftand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The Wood began to move.

Macb. Liar, and flave!

[Striking him.

Mef. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three mile may you fee it coming; I fay, a moving grove.

Macb. If thou fpeak'ft, falfe,

Upon the next tree fhalt thou hang alive,
'Till famine cling thee: If thy fpeech be footh,
I care not. If thou doft for me as much.-

I pull in Refolution, and begin

To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,

That lies like truth. Fear not, 'till Birnam-wood
and now a wood
Do come to Dunfinane,-

Comes towards Dunfinane. 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 ftate o'th' 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.

Before DUNSINANE.

Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, and their Army

Mal.

NOW

with Boughs.

TOW, near enough: your leavy fcreens throw down,

And

And fhew like thofe you are. You (worthy uncle)
Shall with my Coufin, your right-noble fon,
Brave Macduff and we

Lead our firft battle.

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.

[breath, Macd. Make all our trumpets fpeak, give them all Thofe clam'rous harbingers of blood and death. [Exe. [Alarums continued.

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. They've ty'd me to a flake, 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?

Macb. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

[name,

Yo. Siw. No: though thou call'ft thyfelf a hotter

Than any is in hell.

Mach. My name's Macbeth.

[title

Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a

More hateful to mine ear.

Mach. No, nor more fearful.

[fword

Yo. Siw. Thou lieft, abhorred Tyrant; with my

I'll prove the lie thou speak'ft.

[Fight, and young Siward's flain. Macb. Thou waft born of woman ;

But fwords I fmile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandifh'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 ftroke of mine, My wife and children's ghofts will haunt me ftill. I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose arms Are hir'd to bear their ftaves: Or thou, Macbeth, Or elfe my fword with an unbatter'd edge

I fheath

I fheath again undeeded. There thou fhould'ft 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. Alarm.

Siw. This way, my lord, the Caftle's gently renThe tyrant's people on both fides do fight; [der'd: The noble Thanes do bravely in the war; The day almost itself profeffes yours,

And little is to do.

Mal. We've met with foes,

That ftrike befide us.

Siw. Enter, Sir, the Castle.

SCENE

Miacb. W

[Exeunt, Alarm.

VII.

Enter Macbeth.

HY fhould I play the Roman fool, and die
On mine own fword? whilft I fee lives, the

Do better upon them.

To him, enter Macduff.

Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn.

[gafhes

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 in my fword! thou bloodier villain, Than terms can give thee out.

Macb. Thou lofeft labour;

As cafy may't thou the intrenchant air

[Fight. Alarm.

With thy keen fword imprefs, 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. 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

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 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 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.
Macb. 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. Alarms.

SCENE VIII.

Retreat and flourish. Enter with Drum and Colours, Malcolm, Siward, Roffe, Thanes and Soldiers.

Mal. Would, the friends, we mifs, were fafe ar

•I

riv'd.

Siw. Some muft go off: and yet, by these I fee, 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;
He only liv'd but 'till he was a man,

The which no fooner had his prowess confirm'd,
In the unfhrinking ftation 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 meafur'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 wish 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 score.
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:
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 kinfmen,
Henceforth be Earls, the firft that ever Scotland
In fuch 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 minifters.

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 God,
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.

3

[Flourish. Exeunt omnes

The End of the Seventh Volume.