ACT V. | |
SCENE VIII. The same. Another part of the field. | |
| [Enter Macbeth.] |
MACBETH. | |
| Why should I play the Roman fool, and die |
| On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes |
| Do better upon them. |
| [Enter Macduff.] |
MACDUFF. | |
| Turn, hell-hound, turn! |
MACBETH. | |
| Of all men else I have avoided thee: |
| But get thee back; my soul is too much charg'd |
| With blood of thine already. |
MACDUFF. | |
| I have no words,-- |
| My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain |
| Than terms can give thee out! |
| [They fight.] |
MACBETH. | |
| Thou losest labour: |
| 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. |
MACDUFF. | |
| Despair thy charm; |
| And let the angel whom thou still hast serv'd |
| Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb |
| Untimely ripp'd. |
MACBETH. | |
| 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 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. |
MACDUFF. | |
| 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. |
MACBETH. | |
| 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 oppos'd, 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. Enter, with drum and colours, Malcolm, old |
Siward, Ross, Lennox, Angus, Caithness, Menteith, and Soldiers. | |
MALCOLM. | |
| I would the friends we miss were safe arriv'd. |
SIWARD. | |
| Some must go off; and yet, by these I see, |
| So great a day as this is cheaply bought. |
MALCOLM. | |
| Macduff is missing, and your noble son. |
ROSS. | |
| 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. |
SIWARD. | |
| Then he is dead? |
FLEANCE. | |
| Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow |
| Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then |
| It hath no end. |
SIWARD. | |
| Had he his hurts before? |
ROSS. | |
| Ay, on the front. |
SIWARD. | |
| 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 knoll'd. |
MALCOLM. | |
| He's worth more sorrow, |
| And that I'll spend for him. |
SIWARD. | |
| 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.] |
MACDUFF. | |
| 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. | |
| Hail, King of Scotland! |
| [Flourish.] |
MALCOLM. | |
| 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,-- |
| As calling home our exil'd 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. |
| [Flourish. Exeunt.] |