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I sheathe again undeeded. There thou should'st bes
Enter MALCOLM and old SIWARD.
Siw. This way, my lord;—the castle's gently ren
We have met with foes
Enter, sir, the castle,
Macb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword ? whiles I see lives, the gashes ·Do better upon them.
Turn, hell-hound, turn.
I have no words,
Thou losest labour : As easy may'st 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 65, which must not yield To one of woman born. Macd.
Despair thy charm; And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd, Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripp’d.
Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
Macd. Then yield thee, coward,
I'll not yield,
[Exeunt, fighting Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter with Drum and Colours,
MALCOLM, old SIWARD, Rosse, LENOX, ANGUS,
Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
Mal. Macduff is missing, and your noble son.
Rosse. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt: He only liv'd 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. Siw.
Then he is dead ? Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause
Had he his hurts before?
Why then, God's soldier be he!
He's worth more sorrow, And that I'll spend for him. Siw.
He's worth no more ; They say, he parted well, and paid his score : So, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.
Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's head on a pole.
King of Scotland, hail !
(Flourish. Mal. We shall not spend a large expence 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 honour nam’d. What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time,As calling home our exisd 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,