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] |