To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.—

Enter a Messenger.

Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

Mess. Gracious my lord,

I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.

Macb.

Well, say, sir.

Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the

hill,

I look'd toward Birnam, and, anon, methought, The wood began to move.

Macb.

Liar, and slave !

[Striking him.

Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not

so;

Within this three mile may you see it coming; I say, a moving grove.

Macb. If thou speak'st false, Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,

Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much.

I pall in resolution; and begin

To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,

That lies like truth: Fear not, till Birnam wood Do come to Dunsinane :—and now a wood

Comes toward Dunsinane.-Arm, arm, and

out!

If this which he avouches does appear,

There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.
I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun,

And wish the estate o' the world were now

undone.

Ring the alarum-bell.-Blow wind! come wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-The same. A Plain before the Castle.

Enter, with drums and colours, MALCOLM, Old Siward, MACDUFF, &c., and their Army, with boughs.

Mal. Now, near enough; your leavy screens throw down,

And show like those you are.-You, worthy uncle,

Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son, Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff, and we, Shall take upon us what else remains to do, According to our order.

Siw.
Fare you well.
Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
Let us be beaten if we cannot fight.

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, bear-like, 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 pro

nounce 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.

Macb.

[They fight, and Young SIWARD is slain. Thou wast born of woman.

But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.

Alarums. Enter MACDuff.

[Exit.

Macd. That way the noise is.--Tyrant, show thy face:

thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine,

My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.

I cannot strike at wretched kernes, whose arms
Are hired to bear their staves; either thou,
Macbeth,

Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge,
I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst

Enter MALCOLM and Old SIWARD.

Siw. 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.

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 Than terms can give thee out!

Macb.

[They fight.

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.

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.

I will not yield,

Macb. 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

I throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macduff, And damn'd be him that first cries, Hold, enough. [Exeunt, fighting.