« ElőzőTovább »
Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.
[Exeunt all except Doctor. Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, Profit again should hardly draw me here.
SCENE IV. Country near Dunsinane: a wood in view.
Enter, with drum and colours, Malcolm, old SIward and young
SIWARD, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, Angus, LENNOX,
Mal. Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand
We doubt it nothing.
The wood of Birnam.
It shall be done.
'Tis his main hope:
Let our just censures
The time approaches
SCENE V. Dunsinane. Within the castle.
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
Macb. Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
ague eat them
What is that noise ?
Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears :
Wherefore was that cry?
Macb. She should have died hereafter ;
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Gracious my lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
Well, say, sir. (117)
Liar and slave!
If thou speak’st false,
SCENE VI. The same. A plain before the castle. Enter, with drum and colours, Malcolm, old SIWARD, Macduff,
8c., 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. 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.
SCENE VII. The same. Another part of the plain.
Alarums. Enter MACBETH.
Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.
My name's Macbeth. Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear. Macb.
No, nor more fearful. Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorrèd tyrant; with my sword 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, My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still. I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms Are hir'd to bear their staves : either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge, I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited let me find him, fortune! And more I beg not.
Enter Malcolm and old SIWARD.
We've met with foes
SCENE VIII. The same. Another part of the plain.
Turn, hell-hound, turn !
I have no words,
[They fight. Macb.
Thou losest labour :
easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
Despair thy charm;
Macb. Accursèd be that tongue that tells me so,