Part 5
Doct. Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds Do breed vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes To their deafe pillowes will discharge their Secrets: More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian: God, God forgiue vs all. Looke after her, Remoue from her the meanes of all annoyance, And still keepe eyes vpon her: So goodnight, My minde she ha's mated, and amaz'd my sight. I thinke, but dare not speake
Gent. Good night good Doctor.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Drum and Colours. Enter Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, Lenox, Soldiers.
Ment. The English powre is neere, led on by Malcolm, His Vnkle Seyward, and the good Macduff. Reuenges burne in them: for their deere causes Would to the bleeding, and the grim Alarme Excite the mortified man
Ang. Neere Byrnan wood Shall we well meet them, that way are they comming
Cath. Who knowes if Donalbane be with his brother? Len. For certaine Sir, he is not: I haue a File Of all the Gentry; there is Seywards Sonne, And many vnruffe youths, that euen now Protest their first of Manhood
Ment. What do's the Tyrant
Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly Fortifies: Some say hee's mad: Others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant Fury, but for certaine He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of Rule
Ang. Now do's he feele His secret Murthers sticking on his hands, Now minutely Reuolts vpbraid his Faith-breach: Those he commands, moue onely in command, Nothing in loue: Now do's he feele his Title Hang loose about him, like a Giants Robe Vpon a dwarfish Theefe
Ment. Who then shall blame His pester'd Senses to recoyle, and start, When all that is within him, do's condemne It selfe, for being there
Cath. Well, march we on, To giue Obedience, where 'tis truly ow'd: Meet we the Med'cine of the sickly Weale, And with him poure we in our Countries purge, Each drop of vs
Lenox. Or so much as it needes, To dew the Soueraigne Flower, and drowne the Weeds: Make we our March towards Birnan.
Exeunt. marching.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.
Macb. Bring me no more Reports, let them flye all: Till Byrnane wood remoue to Dunsinane, I cannot taint with Feare. What's the Boy Malcolme? Was he not borne of woman? The Spirits that know All mortall Consequences, haue pronounc'd me thus: Feare not Macbeth, no man that's borne of woman Shall ere haue power vpon thee. Then fly false Thanes, And mingle with the English Epicures, The minde I sway by, and the heart I beare, Shall neuer sagge with doubt, nor shake with feare. Enter Seruant.
The diuell damne thee blacke, thou cream-fac'd Loone: Where got'st thou that Goose-looke
Ser. There is ten thousand
Macb. Geese Villaine? Ser. Souldiers Sir
Macb. Go pricke thy face, and ouer-red thy feare Thou Lilly-liuer'd Boy. What Soldiers, Patch? Death of thy Soule, those Linnen cheekes of thine Are Counsailers to feare. What Soldiers Whay-face? Ser. The English Force, so please you
Macb. Take thy face hence. Seyton, I am sick at hart, When I behold: Seyton, I say, this push Will cheere me euer, or dis-eate me now. I haue liu'd long enough: my way of life Is falne into the Seare, the yellow Leafe, And that which should accompany Old-Age, As Honor, Loue, Obedience, Troopes of Friends, I must not looke to haue: but in their steed, Curses, not lowd but deepe, Mouth-honor, breath Which the poore heart would faine deny, and dare not. Seyton? Enter Seyton.
Sey. What's your gracious pleasure? Macb. What Newes more? Sey. All is confirm'd my Lord, which was reported
Macb. Ile fight, till from my bones, my flesh be hackt. Giue me my Armor
Seyt. 'Tis not needed yet
Macb. Ile put it on: Send out moe Horses, skirre the Country round, Hang those that talke of Feare. Giue me mine Armor: How do's your Patient, Doctor? Doct. Not so sicke my Lord, As she is troubled with thicke-comming Fancies That keepe her from her rest
Macb. Cure of that: Can'st thou not Minister to a minde diseas'd, Plucke from the Memory a rooted Sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the Braine, And with some sweet Obliuious Antidote Cleanse the stufft bosome, of that perillous stuffe Which weighes vpon the heart? Doct. Therein the Patient Must minister to himselfe
Macb. Throw Physicke to the Dogs, Ile none of it. Come, put mine Armour on: giue me my Staffe: Seyton, send out: Doctor, the Thanes flye from me: Come sir, dispatch. If thou could'st Doctor, cast The Water of my Land, finde her Disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine Health, I would applaud thee to the very Eccho, That should applaud againe. Pull't off I say, What Rubarb, Cyme, or what Purgatiue drugge Would scowre these English hence: hear'st y of them? Doct. I my good Lord: your Royall Preparation Makes vs heare something
Macb. Bring it after me: I will not be affraid of Death and Bane, Till Birnane Forrest come to Dunsinane
Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away, and cleere, Profit againe should hardly draw me heere.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, Seywards Sonne, Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, and Soldiers Marching.
Malc. Cosins, I hope the dayes are neere at hand That Chambers will be safe
Ment. We doubt it nothing
Seyw. What wood is this before vs? Ment. The wood of Birnane
Malc. Let euery Souldier hew him downe a Bough, And bear't before him, thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our Hoast, and make discouery Erre in report of vs
Sold. It shall be done
Syw. We learne no other, but the confident Tyrant Keepes still in Dunsinane, and will indure Our setting downe befor't
Malc. 'Tis his maine hope: For where there is aduantage to be giuen, Both more and lesse haue giuen him the Reuolt, And none serue with him, but constrained things, Whose hearts are absent too
Macd. Let our iust Censures Attend the true euent, and put we on Industrious Souldiership
Sey. The time approaches, That will with due decision make vs know What we shall say we haue, and what we owe: Thoughts speculatiue, their vnsure hopes relate, But certaine issue, stroakes must arbitrate, Towards which, aduance the warre.
Exeunt. marching
Scena Quinta.
Enter Macbeth, Seyton, & Souldiers, with Drum and Colours.
Macb. Hang out our Banners on the outward walls, The Cry is still, they come: our Castles strength Will laugh a Siedge to scorne: Heere let them lye, Till Famine and the Ague eate them vp: Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, We might haue met them darefull, beard to beard, And beate them backward home. What is that noyse?
A Cry within of Women.
Sey. It is the cry of women, my good Lord
Macb. I haue almost forgot the taste of Feares: The time ha's beene, my sences would haue cool'd To heare a Night-shrieke, and my Fell of haire Would at a dismall Treatise rowze, and stirre As life were in't. I haue supt full with horrors, Direnesse familiar to my slaughterous thoughts Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry? Sey. The Queene (my Lord) is dead
Macb. She should haue dy'de heereafter; There would haue beene a time for such a word: To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow, Creepes in this petty pace from day to day, To the last Syllable of Recorded time: And all our yesterdayes, haue lighted Fooles The way to dusty death. Out, out, breefe Candle, Life's but a walking Shadow, a poore Player, That struts and frets his houre vpon the Stage, And then is heard no more. It is a Tale Told by an Ideot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. Enter a Messenger.
Thou com'st to vse thy Tongue: thy Story quickly
Mes. Gracious my Lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to doo't
Macb. Well, say sir
Mes. As I did stand my watch vpon the Hill I look'd toward Byrnane, and anon me thought The Wood began to moue
Macb. Lyar, and Slaue
Mes. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three Mile may you see it comming. I say, a mouing Groue
Macb. If thou speak'st false, Vpon the next Tree shall thou hang aliue Till Famine cling thee: If thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much. I pull in Resolution, and begin To doubt th' Equiuocation of the Fiend, That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnane Wood Do come to Dunsinane, and now a Wood Comes toward Dunsinane. Arme, Arme, and out, If this which he auouches, do's appeare, There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here. I 'ginne to be a-weary of the Sun, And wish th' estate o'th' world were now vndon. Ring the Alarum Bell, blow Winde, come wracke, At least wee'l dye with Harnesse on our backe.
Exeunt.
Scena Sexta.
Drumme and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, and their Army, with Boughes.
Mal. Now neere enough: Your leauy Skreenes throw downe, And shew like those you are: You (worthy Vnkle) Shall with my Cosin your right Noble Sonne Leade our first Battell. Worthy Macduffe, and wee Shall take vpon's what else remaines to do, According to our order
Sey. Fare you well: Do we but finde the Tyrants power to night, Let vs be beaten, if we cannot fight
Macd. Make all our Trumpets speak, giue the[m] all breath Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death.
Exeunt.
Alarums continued.
Scena Septima.
Enter Macbeth.
Macb. They haue tied me to a stake, I cannot flye, But Beare-like I must fight the course. What's he That was not borne of Woman? Such a one Am I to feare, or none. Enter young Seyward.
Y.Sey. What is thy name? Macb. Thou'lt be affraid to heare it
Y.Sey. No: though thou call'st thy selfe a hoter name Then any is in hell
Macb. My name's Macbeth
Y.Sey. The diuell himselfe could not pronounce a Title More hatefull to mine eare
Macb. No: nor more fearefull
Y.Sey. Thou lyest abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword Ile proue the lye thou speak'st.
Fight, and young Seyward slaine.
Macb. Thou was't borne of woman; But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorne, Brandish'd by man that's of a Woman borne. Enter.
Alarums. Enter Macduffe.
Macd. That way the noise is: Tyrant shew thy face, If thou beest slaine, and with no stroake of mine, My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me still: I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose armes Are hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth, Or else my Sword with an vnbattered edge I sheath againe vndeeded. There thou should'st be, By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seemes bruited. Let me finde him Fortune, And more I begge not.
Exit. Alarums.
Enter Malcolme and Seyward.
Sey. This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred: The Tyrants people, on both sides do fight, The Noble Thanes do brauely in the Warre, The day almost it selfe professes yours, And little is to do
Malc. We haue met with Foes That strike beside vs
Sey. Enter Sir, the Castle.
Exeunt. Alarum
Enter Macbeth.
Macb. Why should I play the Roman Foole, and dye On mine owne sword? whiles I see liues, the gashes Do better vpon them. Enter Macduffe.
Macd. Turne Hell-hound, turne
Macb. Of all men else I haue auoyded thee: But get thee backe, my soule is too much charg'd With blood of thine already
Macd. I haue no words, My voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villaine Then tearmes can giue thee out.
Fight: Alarum
Macb. Thou loosest labour As easie may'st thou the intrenchant Ayre With thy keene Sword impresse, as make me bleed: Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Crests, I beare a charmed Life, which must not yeeld To one of woman borne
Macd. Dispaire thy Charme, And let the Angell whom thou still hast seru'd Tell thee, Macduffe was from his Mothers womb Vntimely ript
Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tels mee so; For it hath Cow'd my better part of man: And be these Iugling Fiends no more beleeu'd, That palter with vs in a double sence, That keepe the word of promise to our eare, And breake it to our hope. Ile not fight with thee
Macd. Then yeeld thee Coward, And liue to be the shew, and gaze o'th' time. Wee'l haue thee, as our rarer Monsters are Painted vpon a pole, and vnder-writ, Heere may you see the Tyrant
Macb. I will not yeeld To kisse the ground before young Malcolmes feet, And to be baited with the Rabbles curse. Though Byrnane wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou oppos'd, being of no woman borne, Yet I will try the last. Before my body, I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on Macduffe, And damn'd be him, that first cries hold, enough.
Exeunt. fighting. Alarums.
Enter Fighting, and Macbeth slaine.
Retreat, and Flourish. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Malcolm, Seyward, Rosse, Thanes, & Soldiers.
Mal. I would the Friends we misse, were safe arriu'd
Sey. Some must go off: and yet by these I see, So great a day as this is cheapely bought
Mal. Macduffe is missing, and your Noble Sonne
Rosse. Your son my Lord, ha's paid a souldiers debt, He onely liu'd but till he was a man, The which no sooner had his Prowesse confirm'd In the vnshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he dy'de
Sey. Then he is dead? Rosse. I, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then It hath no end
Sey. Had he his hurts before? Rosse. I, on the Front
Sey. Why then, Gods Soldier be he: Had I as many Sonnes, as I haue haires, I would not wish them to a fairer death: And so his Knell is knoll'd
Mal. Hee's worth more sorrow, and that Ile spend for him
Sey. He's worth no more, They say he parted well, and paid his score, And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort. Enter Macduffe, with Macbeths head.
Macd. Haile King, for so thou art. Behold where stands Th' Vsurpers cursed head: the time is free: I see thee compast with thy Kingdomes Pearle, That speake my salutation in their minds: Whose voyces I desire alowd with mine. Haile King of Scotland
All. Haile King of Scotland.
Flourish.
Mal. We shall not spend a large expence of time, Before we reckon with your seuerall loues, And make vs euen with you. My Thanes and Kinsmen Henceforth be Earles, the first that euer Scotland In such an Honor nam'd: What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exil'd Friends abroad, That fled the Snares of watchfull Tyranny, Producing forth the cruell Ministers Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend-like Queene; Who (as 'tis thought) by selfe and violent hands, Tooke off her life. This, and what need full else That call's vpon vs, by the Grace of Grace, We will performe in measure, time, and place: So thankes to all at once, and to each one, Whom we inuite, to see vs Crown'd at Scone.
Flourish. Exeunt Omnes.
FINIS.