I sheathe again undeeded. There thou should'st bes [Exit. Alarum. Enter MALCOLM and old SIWARD. Siw. This way, my lord;-the castle's gently ren der'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. Mach. 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. Mach. Of all men else I have avoided thee: But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd Mucd. I have no words, My voice is in my sword; thou bloodier villain [They fight. Macb. Thou losest labour: As easy may'st 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 65, which must not yield To one of woman born. Macd. Despair thy charm; And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd, Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, 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. Macb. I'll not yield, To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter with Drum and Colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, ROSSE, LENOX, ANGUS, CATHNESS, MENTETH, and Soldiers. Mal. I would the friends we miss, were safe arriv'd. Siw. 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 son. 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. Siw. Then he is dead? Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then 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 66. Mal. And that I'll spend for him. Siw. He's worth more sorrow, He's worth no more; They say, he parted well, and paid his score: So, God be with him!-Here comes newer comfort. Re-enter MACDUFF, with Macbeth's head on a pole. 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 67, All. King of Scotland, hail! [Flourish. Mal. We shall not spend a large expence of time, Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen; |