And little is to do.
Malc.

That strike beside us.
Sey.

We have met with Foes

Enter Sir, the Castle.

Exeunt. Alarum.

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. Why should I play the Roman Foole, and dye

On mine owne Sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes

Do better upon them.

Enter Macduffe.

Macd.

Turne Hell-hound, turne.

Mach. Of all men else I have avoyded thee : But get thee backe, my soule is too much charg'd

With blood of thine already.

Macd.

I have no words, My voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villaine

Then tearmes can give thee out.

Macb.

Fight: Alarum.

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.

And let the Angell whom thou still hast serv'd
Tell thee, Macduffe was from his Mothers womb
Untimely ript.

1

Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tels mee so;
For it hath Cow'd my better part of man :
And be these Jugling Fiends no more beleev'd,
That palter with us 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 live to be the shew, and gaze o'th'time.
Wee'l have thee, as our rarer Monsters are

Painted upon a pole, and under-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.

Retreat, and Flourish. Enter with Drumme and Colours,
Malcolm, Seyward, Rosse, Thanes, & Soldiers.
Mal. I would the Friends we misse, were safe arriv'd.
Sey. Some must go off: and yet by these I see,

So great a day as this is cheapely bought.

Mal. Macduffe is missing, and your Noble Sonne.

Rosse. Your Son my Lord, ha's paid a souldiers debt,

He onely liv'd but till he was a man,

The which no sooner had his Prowesse confirm'd

In the unshrinking station where he fought,

But like a man he dy'de.

Rosse. I, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow

Must not be measured by his worth, for then

And so his Knell is knoll'd.
Mal.

And that Ile spend for him.
Sey.

Hee's worth more sorrow,

He's worth no more,

They say he parted well, and paid his score,

And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort.

Enter Macduffe, with Macbeths head.

Macd. Haile King, for so thou art.

Behold where stands

Th'Usurpers cursed head: the time is free :
I see thee compast with thy Kingdomes Pearle,
That speake my salutation in their minds :

Whose voyces I desire alowd with mine.

Haile King of Scotland.

Mal. We shall not spend a large expence of time,

Before we reckon with your severall loves,

And make us even with you. My Thanes and Kinsmen
Henceforth be Earles, the first that ever Scotland
In such an Honor nam'd : What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,
As calling home our exil'd Friends abroad,
That fled the Snares of watchfull Tyranny,
Producing forth the cruell Ministers
Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend-like Queene;
Who (as 'tis thought) by selfe and violent hands,
Tooke off her life. This, and what needfull else
That call's upon us, by the Grace of Grace,
We will performe in measure, time, and place :
So thankes to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we invite, to see us Crown'd at Scone.

Flourish,

Flourish. Exeunt Omnes.

FINIS.

HAMLET, Prince of Denmarke.

Actus Primus. Scœna Prima.

Enter Bernardo and Francisco two Centinels.

Bar. He.

Barnardo.

Ho's there?

Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & unfold your selfe.

Bar. Long live the King.

Fran. Barnardo ?

Fran. You come most carefully upon your houre.

Bar. 'Tis now strook twelve, get thee to bed Francisco.

Fran. For this releefe much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold,

And I am sicke at heart.

Barn. Have you had quiet Guard ?

Fran.

Not a Mouse stirring.

Barn. Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and Mar

cellus, the Rivals of my Watch, bid them make hast.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Fran. I thinke I heare them.

Stand: who's there?

Hor. Friends to this ground.
Mar.

Fran. Give you good night.

And Leige-men to the Dane.

Mar. O farwel honest Soldier, who hath reliev'd you ?
Fra. Barnardo ha's my place: give you goodnight.

Exit Fran.