Thou com'st to vse thy Tongue: thy Story quickly
Mes. Gracious my Lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to doo't
Macb. Well, say sir
Mes. As I did stand my watch vpon the Hill I look'd toward Byrnane, and anon me thought The Wood began to moue
Macb. Lyar, and Slaue
Mes. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three Mile may you see it comming. I say, a mouing Groue
Macb. If thou speak'st false, Vpon the next Tree shall thou hang aliue Till Famine cling thee: If thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much. I pull in Resolution, and begin To doubt th' Equiuocation of the Fiend, That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnane Wood Do come to Dunsinane, and now a Wood Comes toward Dunsinane. Arme, Arme, and out, If this which he auouches, do's appeare, There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here. I 'ginne to be a-weary of the Sun, And wish th' estate o'th' world were now vndon. Ring the Alarum Bell, blow Winde, come wracke, At least wee'l dye with Harnesse on our backe.
Drumme and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, and their Army, with Boughes.
Mal. Now neere enough: Your leauy Skreenes throw downe, And shew like those you are: You (worthy Vnkle) Shall with my Cosin your right Noble Sonne Leade our first Battell. Worthy Macduffe, and wee Shall take vpon's what else remaines to do, According to our order
Sey. Fare you well: Do we but finde the Tyrants power to night, Let vs be beaten, if we cannot fight
Macd. Make all our Trumpets speak, giue the[m] all breath Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death.
Macb. They haue tied me to a stake, I cannot flye, But Beare-like I must fight the course. What's he That was not borne of Woman? Such a one Am I to feare, or none. Enter young Seyward.
Y.Sey. What is thy name? Macb. Thou'lt be affraid to heare it
Y.Sey. No: though thou call'st thy selfe a hoter name Then any is in hell
Macb. My name's Macbeth
Y.Sey. The diuell himselfe could not pronounce a Title More hatefull to mine eare
Macb. No: nor more fearefull
Y.Sey. Thou lyest abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword Ile proue the lye thou speak'st.
Fight, and young Seyward slaine.
Macb. Thou was't borne of woman; But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorne, Brandish'd by man that's of a Woman borne. Enter.
Alarums. Enter Macduffe.
Macd. That way the noise is: Tyrant shew thy face, If thou beest slaine, and with no stroake of mine, My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me still: I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose armes Are hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth, Or else my Sword with an vnbattered edge I sheath againe vndeeded. There thou should'st be, By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seemes bruited. Let me finde him Fortune, And more I begge not.
Enter Malcolme and Seyward.
Sey. This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred: The Tyrants people, on both sides do fight, The Noble Thanes do brauely in the Warre, The day almost it selfe professes yours, And little is to do
Malc. We haue met with Foes That strike beside vs
Sey. Enter Sir, the Castle.