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SCENE II, The country near Dunsinane. Drum and colors. Enter MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, and Soldiers.

Ment. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,

His uncle Siward and the good Macduff :
Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes
Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm
Excite the mortified man.
Ang.
Near Birnam wood
Shall we well meet them; that way are they
coming.

Caith. Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?

Lea. For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file

Of all the gentry there is Siward's son,
And many unrough youths that even now 10
Protest their first of manhood.

Ment.
What does the tryant?
Caith. Great Dunsinane he strongly forti-
fies :

Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate

him

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Serv. The English force, so please you. Macb. Take thy face hence. [Exit Servant. Seyton!-I am sick at heart, When I behold-Seyton, I say!--This push 20 Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now. I have lived long enough my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath,

Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.

Seyton !

Enter SEYTON.

Sey. What is your gracious pleasure?
Macb.
What news more ? 30
Sey. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was
reported.

Macb. I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.

Give me my armor.

Sey.

"Tis not needed yet.

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Wherefore was that cry
Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.
Macb. She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 20
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.

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

SCENE VI. Dunsinane. Before the castle. Drum and colors. Enter MALCOLM, old SIWARD, MACDUFF, and their Army, with boughs.

Mal. Now near enough: your leafy 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 's what else remains to do, According to our order.

Siv 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. 10

SCENE VII. Another part of the field.

Alarums. 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.

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My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain

Than terms can give thee out! [They fight.
Macb.
Thou losest labor:
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress as make me
bleed :

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29

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. Alarums. Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colors, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, Ross, the other Thanes, and Soldiers.

Mal. I would the friends we miss were safe arrived.

Stw. 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

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Then he is dead?

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

Must not be measured by his worth, for then It hath no end.

Siw.

Had he his hurts before?

Ross. Ay, on the front.

Siw.

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.
Mal.

He's worth more sorrow, 50

And that I'll spend for him. Siw.

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 :
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.

Mal. We shall not spend a large expense of

time

60

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In such an honor named. What's more to do, 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 70 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.

56

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

(WRITTEN ABOUT 1607.)

INTRODUCTION.

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This play, though by the person of Antony it connects itself with Julius Cæsar, is a striking contrast to it in subject and style, and is separated from it in the chronological order by a wide interval. In May of the year 1608, Blount (afterwards one of the publishers of the First Folio) entered in the Stationers' register A Book called Antony and Cleopatra. This was probably Shakespeare's tragedy. The source of the play is the life of Antonius in North's Piutarch. Shakespeare had found in Plutarch his Brutus almost ready made to his hand; he deemed it necessary to transform and transtig. ure the Antony of history, stained as he is not only by crimes of voluptuousness but of cruelty. “Of all Shakespeare's historical plays," says Coleridge, Antony and Cleopatra is by far the most wonderful," and he calls attention to what he terms its "happy valiancy" of style. Shakespeare, indeed, nowhere seems a greater master of a great dramatic theme. The moral ideals, the doctrines, the stoical habits and stoical philosophy of Brutus and Portia, are as remote as possible from the sensuous splendors of the life in Egypt, from Antony's careless magnificence of strength, and the beauty, the arts, and the endless variety of Cleopatra. Yet, though the tragedy has all the glow and color of oriental magnificence, it remains true at heart to the moral laws which govern human life. The worship of pleasure by the Egyptian queen and her paramour is, after all, a failure, even from the first. There is no true confidence, no steadfast strength of love possible between Antony and his "serpent of old Nile." Each inspires the other with a mastering spirit of fascination, but Antony knows not the moment when Cleopatra may be faithless to him, and Cleopatra weaves her endless snares to retain her power over Antony. The great Roman soldier gradually loses his energy, his judgment, and even his joy in life; at last, the despair of spent forces settles down upon him, and it is only out of despair that he snatches strength enough to fight fiercely when driven to bay. He is the ruin of Cleopatra's magic. Upon Cleopatra herself the genius of Shakespeare has been lavished. She is the most wonderful of his creations of women, formed of the greatest number of elements-apparently conflicting elements, yet united by the mystery of life. While creating, with so much imaginative ardor, his Cleopatra, Shakespeare yet stands away from her, and, in a manner. criticises her. Enobarbus, who sees through every wile and guile of the Queen, is, as it were, a chorus to the play, a looker-on at the game; he stands clear of the golden haze which makes up the atmosphere around Cleopatra; and yet he is not a mere critic or commentator (Shakespeare never permitting the presence of a person in his drama who is not a true portion of it). Enobarbus himself is under the influence of the charm of Antony, and slays himself because he has wronged his master. The figures of Antony and the Queen are ennobled and elevated by the strong power of attraction, even of devotion, which they exert over those about them-Antony over Enobarbus, Cleopatra over her attendants, Charmian and Iras.

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SCENE: In several parts of the Roman empire,

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