2311Industrious Souldiership.

2312Sey. The time approaches,

2313That will with due decision make vs know

2314What we shall say we haue, and what we owe:

2315Thoughts speculatiue, their vnsure hopes relate,

2316But certaine issue, stroakes must arbitrate,

2317Towards which, aduance the warre. Exeunt marching

2321Macb. Hang out our Banners on the outward walls,

2322The Cry is still, they come: our Castles strength

2323Will laugh a Siedge to scorne: Heere let them lye,

2324Till Famine and the Ague eate them vp:

2325Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours,

2326We might haue met them darefull, beard to beard,

2327And beate them backward home. What is that noyse?

2329Sey. It is the cry of women, my good Lord.

2330Macb. I haue almost forgot the taste of Feares:

2331The time ha's beene, my sences would haue cool'd

2332To heare a Night-shrieke, and my Fell of haire

2333Would at a dismall Treatise rowze, and stirre

2334As life were in't. I haue supt full with horrors,

2335Direnesse familiar to my slaughterous thoughts

2336Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry?

2337Sey. The Queene (my Lord) is dead.

2338Macb. She should haue dy'de heereafter;

2339There would haue beene a time for such a word:

2340To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow,

2341Creepes in this petty pace from day to day,

2342To the last Syllable of Recorded time:

2343And all our yesterdayes, haue lighted Fooles

2344The way to dusty death. Out, out, breefe Candle,

2345Life's but a walking Shadow, a poore Player,

2346That struts and frets his houre vpon the Stage,

2347And then is heard no more. It is a Tale

2348Told by an Ideot, full of sound and fury

2349Signifying nothing. Enter a Messenger.

2350Thou com'st to vse thy Tongue: thy Story quickly.

2351Mes. Gracious my Lord,

2352I should report that which I say I saw,

2353But know not how to doo't.

2354Macb. Well, say sir.

2355Mes. As I did stand my watch vpon the Hill

2356I look'd toward Byrnane, and anon me thought

2357The Wood began to moue.

2358Macb. Lyar, and Slaue.

2359Mes. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:

2360Within this three Mile may you see it comming.

2361I say, a mouing Groue.

2362Macb. If thou speak'st fhlse,

2363Vpon the next Tree shall thou hang aliue

2364Till Famine cling thee: If thy speech be sooth,

2365I care not if thou dost for me as much.

2366I pull in Resolution, and begin

2367To doubt th'Equiuocation of the Fiend,

2368That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnane Wood

2369Do come to Dunsinane, and now a Wood

2370Comes toward Dunsinane. Arme, Arme, and out,

2371If this which he auouches, do's appeare,

2372There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.

2373I 'ginne to be a-weary of the Sun,

2374And wish th'estate o'th'world were now vndon.

2375Ring the Alarum Bell, blow Winde, come wracke,

2376At least wee'l dye with Harnesse on our backe. Exeunt

2381Mal. Now neere enough:

2382Your leauy Skreenes throw downe,

2383And shew like those you are: You (worthy Vnkle)

2384Shall with my Cosin your right Noble Sonne

2385Leade our first Battell. Worthy Macduffe, and wee

2386Shall take vpon's what else remaines to do,

2387According to our order.

2388Sey. Fare you well:

2389Do we but finde the Tyrants power to night,

2390Let vs be beaten, if we cannot fight.

2391Macd. Make all our Trumpets speak, giue thẽ all breath

2392Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death. Exeunt

2396Macb. They haue tied me to a stake, I cannot flye,

2397But Beare-like I must fight the course. What's he

2398That was not borne of Woman? Such a one

2399Am I to feare, or none.

2401Y. Sey. What is thy name?

2402Macb. Thou'lt be affraid to heare it.

2403Y. Sey. No: though thou call'st thy selfe a hoter name

2404Then any is in hell.

2405Macb. My name's Macbeth.

2406Y. Sey. The diuell himselfe could not pronounce a Title

2407More hatefull to mine eare.

2408Macb. No: nor more fearefull.

2409Y. Sey. Thou lyest abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword

2410Ile proue the lye thou speak st.

2412Macb. Thou was't borne of woman;

2413But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorne,

2414Brandish'd by man that's of a Woman borne. Exit.

2416Macd. That way the noise is: Tyrant shew thy face,

2417If thou beest slaine, and with no stroake of mine,

2418My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me still:

2419I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose armes

2420Are hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth,

2421Or else my Sword with an vnbattered edge

2422I sheath againe vndeeded. There thou should'st be,

2423By this great clatter, one of greatest note