Act 5 — Scenes 7 and 8The Tragedy of Macbeth

Page 48 of 50

Page 48

Alarums. Enter Macduff. Macduff: 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 hired 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. (Exit. Alarums.) Enter Malcolm and old Siward. Siward: This way, my lord;—the castle’s gently render’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. Malcolm: We have met with foes That strike beside us. Siward: Enter, sir, the castle. (Exeunt. Alarums.) Scene Eight. The same. Another part of the field. Enter Macbeth. Macbeth: Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them. Enter Macduff. Macduff: Turn, hell-hound, turn! Macbeth: Of all men else I have avoided thee: But get thee back; my soul is too much charg’d With blood of thine already. Macduff: I have no words; My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out! (They fight.) Macbeth: Thou losest labour: As easy mayst 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, which must not yield To one of woman born. Macduff: Despair thy charm; And let the angel whom thou still hast serv’d Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother’s womb Untimely ripp’d. Macbeth: Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow’d my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believ’d, 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. Macduff: Then yield thee, coward, And live to be the show and gaze o’ th’ time. We’ll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted upon a pole, and underwrit, “Here may you see the tyrant.”
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