Si. 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.

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.

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.

My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain
Than terms can give thee out!

Macb.

I have no words:

[They fight.

Thou losest labour:

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As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air

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 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. 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 underwrit,

Here may you see the tyrant."

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Mach.

I will 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

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I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, And damn'd be him that first cries "Hold, enough!" [Exeunt, fighting. Alarums.

Retreat. Flourish.__ Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, Ross, the other Thanes, 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.

Ross. 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.

Siro.

Then he is dead?

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Ross. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sor

row

Must not be measured by his worth, for then

It hath no end.

Why then, God's soldier be he!

Ross. Ay, on the front.
Siro.

Had I as many sons as I have hairs,

I would not wish them to a fairer death:

And so, his knell is knoll'd.

He's worth more sorrow,

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He's worth no more:

They say he parted well, and paid his score:

And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.

Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head.

Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:

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!

Hail, King of Scotland! [Flourish

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All.
Mal. We shall not spend a large expense of time

SHAK. III.-9

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

What's more to do,

In such an honour named.
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.

70

[Flourish. Exeunt.

Fran. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.
Ber. Long live the king!

Fran. Bernardo?

Ber. He.

Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour.

Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.

Fran. For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold,

And I am sick at heart.

Ber. Have you had quiet guard?

Fran.

Ber. Well, good night.

Not a mouse stirring. 10

If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,

The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

Fran. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there?

Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.

Hor. Friends to this ground.
Mar.

Fran. Give you good night.
Mar.

Who hath relieved you?
Fran.

And liegemen to the Dane.

O, farewell, honest soldier:

Bernardo has my place.

Give you good night.

[Exit.

Holla! Bernardo!

Ber.

Say,

What, is Horatio there?

Hor.

A piece of him.

Mar.

Ber. Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.
Mar. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?
Ber. I have seen nothing.

Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy,

And will not let belief take hold of him

Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:

Therefore I have entreated him along

With us to watch the minutes of this night;
That if again this apparition come,

He may approve our eyes and speak to it.
Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.
Ber.

Sit down awhile;

And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story
What we have two nights seen.

Hor.

Well, sit we down,

And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.

Ber. Last night of all,

When yond same star that's westward from the pole
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,

The bell then beating one,

Enter Ghost.

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30

Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!
Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead.

Mar. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
Ber. Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.
Hor. Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.
Ber. It would be spoke to.

Mar.

Question it, Horatio.

Hor. What art thou that usurp'st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form

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