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The numbers of our host, and make discovery
Err in report of us.
It shall be done.
Siw. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
Our setting down before't.
Towards which, advance the war.
Dunsinane. Within the Castle.
Enter, with Drums and Colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
Macb. Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still, They come: Our castle's strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Macb. She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.-
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
Enter a Messenger.
Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Mes. Gracious my lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.
Well, say, sir.
Mes. As I did stand
Liar, and slave!
I care not if thou dost for me as much.
I pull in resolution **; and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth: Fear not, till Birnam 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,
The Same. A Plain before the Castle. Enter, with Drum 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,
Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all
Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. [Exeunt. Alarums continued.
The Same. Another Part of the Plain.
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
Enter young SIWARD.
Yo. Siw. What is thy name?
Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter
Than any is in hell.
My name's Macbeth.
Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a
More hateful to mine ear,
No, nor more fearful, Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my
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.
Alarums. Enter MACDUFF.
Macd. That way the noise is:-Tyrant, show thy face:
If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine,