| ACT V SCENE V | Dunsinane. Within the castle. |  | 
| [
                    Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum
                    and colours
                ] | 
| MACBETH | Hang out our banners on the outward walls; | 
|  | The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength | 
|  | Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie | 
|  | Till famine and the ague eat them up: | 
|  | Were they not forced with those that should be ours, | 
|  | We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, | 
|  | And beat them backward home. | 
[A cry of women within] | |  | What is that noise? | 
| SEYTON | It is the cry of women, my good lord. | 
| [Exit] | 
| MACBETH | I have almost forgot the taste of fears; | 
|  | The time has been, my senses would have cool'd | 10 | 
|  | To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair | 
|  | Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir | 
|  | As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors; | 
|  | Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts | 
|  | Cannot once start me. | 
[Re-enter SEYTON] | |  | Wherefore was that cry? | 
| SEYTON | The queen, my lord, is dead. | 
| MACBETH | She should have died hereafter; | 
|  | There would have been a time for such a word. | 
|  | To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, | 
|  | Creeps in this petty pace from day to day | 20 | 
|  | To the last syllable of recorded time, | 
|  | And all our yesterdays have lighted fools | 
|  | The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! | 
|  | Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player | 
|  | That struts and frets his hour upon the stage | 
|  | And then is heard no more: it is a tale | 
|  | Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, | 
|  | Signifying nothing. 
 
 
 
 | 
[Enter a Messenger] | |  | Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly. | 
| Messenger | Gracious my lord, | 30 | 
|  | I should report that which I say I saw, | 
|  | But know not how to do it. | 
| MACBETH | Well, say, sir. | 
| Messenger | As I did stand my watch upon the hill, | 
|  | I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, | 
|  | The wood began to move. | 
| MACBETH | Liar and slave! | 
| Messenger | Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: | 
|  | Within this three mile may you see it coming; | 
|  | I say, a moving grove. | 
| MACBETH | If thou speak'st false, | 
|  | Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, | 
|  | Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth, | 40 | 
|  | I care not if thou dost for me as much. | 
|  | I pull in resolution, and begin | 
|  | To doubt the equivocation of the fiend | 
|  | That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood | 
|  | Do come to Dunsinane:'  and now a wood | 
|  | Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out! | 
|  | If this which he avouches does appear, | 
|  | There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here. | 
|  | I gin to be aweary of the sun, | 
|  | And wish the estate o' the world were now undone. | 50 | 
|  | Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! | 
|  | At least we'll die with harness on our back. | 
| [Exeunt] |