Siw. Fare you well. Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night, 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, bearlike, 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, Brandished by man that's of a woman born. Alarums. Enter MACDUff. [Exit. Macd. That way the noise is.-Tyrant, show thy face. I sheathe again unheeded. There thou shouldst be; [Exit. Alarum. Enter MALCOLM and Old SIWARD. Siw. This way, my lord.-The castle's gently rendered: The tyrant's people on both sides do fight; The noble thanes do bravely in the war; And little is to do. Macb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them. Macd. Re-enter MACDUFF. 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 Macb. [They fight. Thou losest labor: As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed. I bear a charmed life, which must not yield Macd. Despair thy charm; And let the angel, whom thou still hast served, Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripped. Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cowed 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. And live to be the show and gaze o' the time. Here may you see the tyrant. Macb. I'll not yield To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, And thou opposed, being of no woman born, Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with drum and colors, MAL 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. The which no sooner had his prowess confirmed 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. Why, then, God's soldier be he! Siw. I would not wish them to a fairer death. And so his knell is knolled. Mal. He's worth more sorrow, He's worth no more; And that I'll spend for him. 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: Hail, king of Scotland! All. 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, Of this dead butcher, and his fiendlike queen; [Flourish. Exeunt. VOL. I1.-17 w |