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There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.
SCENE VI. The same. A Plain before the Castle.
Fare you well.-
breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.
(Ereunt. Alarums continued.
SCENE V11. The same. Another Part of the Plain.
Enter young SIWARD.
Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.
My name's Macbeth.
Y. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear. Macb.
No, nor more fearful. Y. Siw. Thou liest, abborred 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. [Exit.
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 hir'd to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword, with an unbalter'd edge, I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruiled: Let me find him, fortune! And more I beg not.
We have met with foes
Enter, sir, the castle.
[Exeunt. Alurum. Re-enter MACBETH. Macb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die, On mine own sword? whiles 1 see lives, the gashes Do better upon them.
Re-enter MACDUFF. Macd.
Turn, hell-bound, turn, Macb. Of all inen else I have avoided thee:
But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd
I have no words,
[They fight. Macb.
Thou losest labour: As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air With ihy 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 serv'd, Tell thee, Macduff was from bis mother's womb Untimely ripp’d.
Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
Macd. Then yield thee, coward,
I'll not yield,
[Exeunt, fighting Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with Drum and Colours,
Malcolm, old SIWARD, Rosse, LENOX, ANGUS,
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 liv'd 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?
Had he his hurts before?
Why then, God's soldier be he!
He's worth more sorrow, And that I'll spend for him. Siw.
He's worth no more ;
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 nam'd. What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,-.
This play is deservedly celebraled for the propriety: of its fiction, and solemnity, grandeur, and variety of its action; but it has no nice discriminalions of cha: racter; the events are too great to admit the influence of particular dispositions, and the course of the action necessarily determines the conduct of the agents.
The danger of ambition is well described ; and I know not whether it may not be said, in defence of some parts which now seem improbable, that in Shakspeare's time it was necessary to warn credulity against vain and illusive predictions.
The passions are directed to their true end. Lady Macbeth is merely detested; and though the courage of Macbeth preserves some esteem, yet every reader rejoices at his fall,
C. Whittingham, Printer, Chiswick.