Are hired to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth
Or else my sword, with an unbattered edge,

I sheathe again, undeeded.

Let me find him, fortune!

And more I beg not.

[Alarums.—Exeunt, L

SCENE VII.-The Gates of the Castle at Dunsinane.

Enter MACBETH through the gates.

Macb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them.

Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn.

Going to R.

Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee: But get thee back, my soul is too much charged With blood of thine already.

Macd. I have no words;

My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain
Than terms can give thee out.

Macb. Thou losest labour:

Fight.-Alarums

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 charméd life, which must not yield
To one of woman born.

Macd. Despair thy charm;

And let the angel, whom thou still hast served,
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripped.

Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
For it hath cowed my better part of man!
And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
That palter with us in a double sense;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,

And break it to our hope-I'll not fight with thee.

[Retires towards the Castle gates

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,

66

Here you may see the tyrant."

*Not to be cut, indivisible.

Macb. I will not yield,

To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
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 ;-

Lay on, Macduff;

And damned be him that first cries, "Hold! enough." [Alarums.-They fight.-Macbeth falls and dies.-

Flourish of drums and trumpets.-Shouting within. Enter MALCOLM, ROSSE, LENOX, SIWARD, GENtlemen, and SOLDIERS.

Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art: the time is free :
I see thee compassed with thy kingdom's pearl,
That speak my salutation in their minds;

Whose voices I desire aloud with mine,—
Hail, King of Scotland!

All. King of Scotland, hail!

[Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.

Mal. We shall not spend a large expense of time, Before we reckon with your several loves,

And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmer, Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland

In such an honour named.

What's more to do,

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 crowned at Scone.

[Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.--Exeunt

THE END.