Reading Help THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH
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More hateful to mine ear. `
` MACBETH. No, nor more fearful. `
` YOUNG SIWARD O Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword `
` I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. `
` They fight, and young Seward is slain. `
` MACBETH. Thou wast born of woman. `
` But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, `
` Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. Exit. `
` `
` Alarums. Enter Macduff. `
` `
` MACDUFF. That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face! `
` If thou best 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. Alarum. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` SCENE VIII. `
` 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 charged `
` 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 labor. `
` 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 served `
` 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 believed `
` That patter 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' the time. `
` We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, `
` Painted upon a pole, and underwrit, `
` "Here may you see the tyrant." `
` MACBETH. 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. Before my body `
` I throw my warlike shield! Lay on, Macduff, `
` And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" `
` Exeunt fighting. Alarums. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` SCENE IX. `
` `
` Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colors, Malcolm, old `
` Siward, Ross, `
` the other Thanes, and Soldiers. `
` `
` MALCOLM. I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. `
` SIWARD. Some must go off, and yet, by these I see, `
` So great a day as this is cheaply bought. `
` MALCOLM. Macduff is missing, and your noble son. `
` ROSS. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt. `
` He only lived but till he was a man, `
` The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd `
` In the unshrinking station where he fought, `
` But like a man he died. `
` SIWARD. Then he is dead? `
` ROSS. Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow `
` Must not be measured by his worth, for then `
` It hath no end. `
` SIWARD. Had he his hurts before? `
` ROSS. Ay, on the front. `
` SIWARD. Why then, God's soldier be he! `
` Had I as many sons as I have hairs, `
` I would not wish them to a fairer death. `
` And so his knell is knoll'd. `
` MALCOLM. He's worth more sorrow, `
` And that I'll spend for him. `
` SIWARD. He's worth no more: `
` They say he parted well and paid his score, `
` And so God be with him! Here comes newer comfort. `
` `
` Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's head. `
` `
` MACDUFF. Hail, King, for so thou art. Behold where stands `
` The usurper's cursed head. The time is free. `
` I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl `
` That speak my salutation in their minds, `
` Whose voices I desire aloud with mine- `
` Hail, King of Scotland! `
` ALL. Hail, King of Scotland! Flourish. `
` MALCOLM. 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 kinsmen, `
` Henceforth be Earls, the first that ever Scotland `
` In such an honor named. What's more to do, `
` Which would be planted newly with the time, `
` As calling home our exiled friends abroad `
` That fled the snares of watchful tyranny, `
` Producing forth the cruel ministers `
` Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen, `
` Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands `
` Took off her life; this, and what needful else `
` 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 crown'd at Scone. `
` Flourish. Exeunt. `
` -THE END- `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` `
`
` MACBETH. No, nor more fearful. `
` YOUNG SIWARD O Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword `
` I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. `
` They fight, and young Seward is slain. `
` MACBETH. Thou wast born of woman. `
` But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, `
` Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. Exit. `
` `
` Alarums. Enter Macduff. `
` `
` MACDUFF. That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face! `
` If thou best 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. Alarum. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` SCENE VIII. `
` 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 charged `
` 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 labor. `
` 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 served `
` 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 believed `
` That patter 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' the time. `
` We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, `
` Painted upon a pole, and underwrit, `
` "Here may you see the tyrant." `
` MACBETH. 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. Before my body `
` I throw my warlike shield! Lay on, Macduff, `
` And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" `
` Exeunt fighting. Alarums. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` SCENE IX. `
` `
` Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colors, Malcolm, old `
` Siward, Ross, `
` the other Thanes, and Soldiers. `
` `
` MALCOLM. I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. `
` SIWARD. Some must go off, and yet, by these I see, `
` So great a day as this is cheaply bought. `
` MALCOLM. Macduff is missing, and your noble son. `
` ROSS. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt. `
` He only lived but till he was a man, `
` The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd `
` In the unshrinking station where he fought, `
` But like a man he died. `
` SIWARD. Then he is dead? `
` ROSS. Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow `
` Must not be measured by his worth, for then `
` It hath no end. `
` SIWARD. Had he his hurts before? `
` ROSS. Ay, on the front. `
` SIWARD. Why then, God's soldier be he! `
` Had I as many sons as I have hairs, `
` I would not wish them to a fairer death. `
` And so his knell is knoll'd. `
` MALCOLM. He's worth more sorrow, `
` And that I'll spend for him. `
` SIWARD. He's worth no more: `
` They say he parted well and paid his score, `
` And so God be with him! Here comes newer comfort. `
` `
` Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's head. `
` `
` MACDUFF. Hail, King, for so thou art. Behold where stands `
` The usurper's cursed head. The time is free. `
` I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl `
` That speak my salutation in their minds, `
` Whose voices I desire aloud with mine- `
` Hail, King of Scotland! `
` ALL. Hail, King of Scotland! Flourish. `
` MALCOLM. 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 kinsmen, `
` Henceforth be Earls, the first that ever Scotland `
` In such an honor named. What's more to do, `
` Which would be planted newly with the time, `
` As calling home our exiled friends abroad `
` That fled the snares of watchful tyranny, `
` Producing forth the cruel ministers `
` Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen, `
` Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands `
` Took off her life; this, and what needful else `
` 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 crown'd at Scone. `
` Flourish. Exeunt. `
` -THE END- `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` `
`