« AnkstesnisTęsti »
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow
Enter a Messenger.
'I'd` fay, I faw,
Thou com'ft to use thy tongue: thy ftory quickly.
Macb. Liar, and flave!
Mef. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not fo:
Macb. If thou fpeak'ft falfe,
Upon the next tree fhalt thou hang alive
I pull in refolution, and begin
To doubt th' equivocation of the fiend,
Comes toward Dunfinane. Arm, arm, and out!
(a) Dusky graves. Rich. 3. 373. and the infernal God is call'd dusky Dis, Temp. 55.
2 dufty... old edit. Theob, emend.
And wish the ftate o'th' world were now undone.
Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, and their Army,
Siw. Fare you well:
Let us but find the tyrant's power to-night,
Macd. Make all our trumpets fpeak, give them all breath, Thofe clam'rous harbingers of blood and death. [Exeunt. [Alarums continued.
Mach. They've ty'd me to a stake, I cannot fly,
Enter Young Siward.
Yo. Siw. What is thy name?
Yo. Siw. No: though thou call'ft thy felf a hotter name
Mach. My name's Macbeth.
Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a tirk More hateful to mine ear.
Mach. No, nor more fearful.
Yo. Siw. Thou lieft, abhorred tyrant; with my fwod I'll prove the lie thou fpeak'ft.
[Fight, and young Siward's fizin Mach. 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.
Macd. That way the noife is: Tyrant, fhew thy face;
Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune! and
Enter Malcolm and Siward.
Siw. This way, my Lord; the caftle's gently render'd: The tyrant's people on both fides do fight, The noble Thanes do bravely in the war, The day almoft it felf profeffes yours, And little is to do.
Mal. We've met with foes That ftrike befide us.
Siw. Enter, Sir, the castle.
Macb. Why fhould I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? whilft I fee lives, the gafhes Do better upon them.
To him, enter Macduff.
Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn.
Mach. Of all men elfe I have avoided thee:
Macd. I've no words,
My voice is in my fword. Thou bloodier villain
Mach. Thou lofeft labour,
As eafie may'ft thou the intrenchant air
Macd. Defpair thy charm,
And let the angel whom thou still haft ferv'd
Mach. Accurfed be that tongue that tells me fo;
And live to be the fhew, and gaze o' th' time.
Macb. I'll not yield
To kifs the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
Retreat and Flourish. Enter with Drum and Colours, Mi colm, Siward, Roffe, Thanes, and Soldiers.
Mal. I would the friends we mifs were fafe arriv'd. Siw. Some muft go off: and yet by these I fee, So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
Mal. Macduff is miffing, and your noble fon.
The which no fooner had his +'prowefs confirm'd
But like a man he dy❜d.
Siw. Then is he dead?
Roffe. Ay, and brought off the field: your caufe of for Muft not be meafur'd by his worth, for then It hath no end.
Siw. Had he hurts before?
Siw. Why then, God's foldier be he!
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,
Enter Macduff with Macbeth's bead.
Macd. Hail, King! for fo thou art. Behold, where Th' ufurper's curfed head; the time is free: I fee thee compaft with thy kingdom's peers, That fpeak my falutation in their minds: Whofe voices I defire aloud with mine.