Macbeth

(Thunder. Third Apparition, a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand.)
What is this
That rises like the issue of a king,
And wears upon his baby brow the round
And top of sovereignty?

ALL

Listen, but speak not to't.
Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are;
Macbeth shall never vanquished be, until
Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill
Shall come against him.

(He descends.)
MACBETH

That will never be.
Who can impress the forest bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! Good!
Rebellious dead rise never till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art
Can tell so much, shall Banquo's issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?

ALL

Seek to know no more.

[...]

---

(Enter a Messenger.)

Thou com'st to use thy tongue: thy story quickly!

MESSENGER

Gracious, my lord,
I should report what which I say I saw,
But know not how to do't.

MACBETH

Well, say, sir.

MESSENGER

As I did stand my watch upon the hill
I looked 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 shall thouhang alive
Till famine cling thee. If thy speech be sooth,
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. -
Ring the alarum bell! - Blow wind, come wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back.

(Exeunt.)

SCENE VII

(Enter MACBETH.)

MACBETH

They have tied me to a stake, I cannot fly,
But bear-like I must fight the course. What's he
That was not born of woman? Such a one
Am I to fear, or none.

[...]

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.

[...]

---

(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 charg'd
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.

(Fight. Alarum.)

MACBETH

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 serv'd
Tell thee Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripp'd.

MACBETH

Accursed be that tongue that tells me so;
For it hath cowed my better part of man;
And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd
Than palter 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 oppos'd, 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!'.