Enter Macbeth.
Macb. Why should I play the Roman Foole, and dye On mine owne sword? whiles I see liues, the gashes Do better vpon them. Enter Macduffe.
Macd. Turne Hell-hound, turne
Macb. Of all men else I haue auoyded thee: But get thee backe, my soule is too much charg’d With blood of thine already
Macd. I haue no words, My voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villaine Then tearmes can giue thee out.
Fight: Alarum
Macb. Thou loosest labour As easie may’st thou the intrenchant Ayre With thy keene Sword impresse, as make me bleed: Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Crests, I beare a charmed Life, which must not yeeld To one of woman borne
Macd. Dispaire thy Charme, And let the Angell whom thou still hast seru’d Tell thee, Macduffe was from his Mothers womb Vntimely ript
Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tels mee so; For it hath Cow’d my better part of man: And be these Iugling Fiends no more beleeu’d, That palter with vs in a double sence, That keepe the word of promise to our eare, And breake it to our hope. Ile not fight with thee
Macd. Then yeeld thee Coward, And liue to be the shew, and gaze o’th’ time. Wee’l haue thee, as our rarer Monsters are Painted vpon a pole, and vnder-writ, Heere may you see the Tyrant
Macb. I will not yeeld To kisse the ground before young Malcolmes feet, And to be baited with the Rabbles curse. Though Byrnane wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou oppos’d, being of no woman borne, Yet I will try the last. Before my body, I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on Macduffe, And damn’d be him, that first cries hold, enough.
Exeunt. fighting. Alarums.
Enter Fighting, and Macbeth slaine.
