Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Macbeth (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Anthony Dawson
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-528-5

    Copyright Anthony Dawson. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Anthony Dawson
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Macbeth (Folio 1, 1623)

    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.
    2440Macd. 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,
    2445My 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:
    2450Let 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
    2455Tell 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,
    2460That 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.
    2465Wee'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,
    2470And 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,
    2475And damn'd be him, that first cries hold, enough.
    Exeunt fighting.
    Enter Fighting, and Macbeth slaine.