Malc.
Here we are near enough; throw down
Your Leafie Skreens
And shew like those you are. You worthy Uncle
Shall with my Brother and the Noble Lenox,
March in the Van, whilst Valiant Seymour
And my Self, make up the Gross of the Army,
And follow you with speed

Sey.
Fare well; the Monster has forsook his hold and comes
To offer Battle.

Macd.
Let him come on; his Title now
Sits Loose about him, like a Giants Robe
Upon a Dwarfish Thief. Enter Macbeth.

Macb.
'Tis too Ignoble, and too base to Flie;
Who's he that is not of a Woman Born,
For such a one I am to fear, or none. Enter Lenox.

Len.
Kind Heaven, I thank thee; have I found thee here;
Oh Scotland! Scotland! mayst thou owe thy just
Revenge to this sharp Sword, or this blest Minute.

Macb.
Retire fond Man, I wou'd not Kill thee.
Why should Faulcons prey on Flies?
It is below Macbeth to Fight with Men.

Len.
But not to Murder Women.

Macb.
Lenox, I pitty thee, thy Arm's too weak.

Len.
This Arm has hitherto found good Success
On your Ministers of Blood, who Murder'd
Macduffs Lady, and brave Banquo:
Art thou less Mortal then they were? Or more
Exempt from Punishment? Because thou most
Deserv'st it. Have at thy Life.

Macb.
Since then thou art in Love with Death, I will
Vouchsafe it thee. [They fight, Lenox falls.
Thou art of Woman Born, I'm sure. [Exit Macb.

Len.
Oh my dear Country, Pardon me that I
Do in a cause so great, so quickly Die. [Dies. Enter Macduff.

Macd.
This way the Noise is, Tyrant shew thy Face,
If thou be'st Slain and by no hand of Mine,
My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me for't.
I cannot Strike
At wretched Slaves, who sell their Lives for Pay;
No, my Revenge shall seek a Nobler Prey.
Through all the Paths of Death, I le search him out:
Let me but find him, Fortune. [Exit. Enter Malcolm, and Seymor.

Sey
This way, Great Sir, the Tyrants People Fight
With Fear as great as is his Guilt.

Malc
See who Lies here; the Noble Lenox slain,
What Storm has brought this Blood over our
Rising hopes.

Sey.
Restrain your Passion, Sir, let's to our Men,
Those who in Noble Causes fall, deserve

Our Pitty, not our Sorrow.
I'le bid some Body bear the Body further hence. [Exeunt. Enter Macbeth.

Macb.
Why should I play the Roman Fool and Fall,
On my own Sword, while I have living Foes
To Conquer; my Wounds shew better upon them. Enter Macduff.

Macd.
Turn Hell-Hound, Turn.

Macb.
Of all Men else, I have avoided Thee;
But get thee back, my Soul is too much clog'd
With Blood of thine already.

Macd.
I'le have no Words, thy Villanies are worse
Then ever yet were Punisht with a Curse.

Macb.
Thou mayst as well attempt to Wound the Air,
As me; my Destiny's reserv'd for some Immortal Power,
And I must fall by Miracle; I cannot Bleed.

Macd.
Have thy black Deeds then turn'd thee to a Devil.

Macb.
Thou wouldst but share the Fate of Lenox.

Macd.
Is Lenox slain? and by a Hand that would Damn all it kills,
But that their Cause perserves 'em.

Macb.
I have a Prophecy secures my Life.

Macd.
I have another which tells me I shall have his Blood,
Who first shed mine.

Macb.
None of Woman born can spill my Blood.

Macd.
Then let the Devils tell thee, Macduff
Was from his Mothers Womb untimely Ript.

Macb.
Curst be that tongue that tells me so,
And double Damn d be they who with a double sence
Make Promises to our Ears and Break at last
That Promise to our sight: I will not Fight with thee.

Macd.
Then yield thy self a Prisoner to be led about
The World, and Gaz'd on as a Monster, a Monster
More Deform'd then ever Ambition Fram'd,
Or Tyranny could shape.

Macb.
I scorn to Yield. I will in spite of Enchantment
Fight with thee, though Birnam Wood be come
To Dunsinane:
And thou art of no Woman Born, I'le try,
If by a Man it be thy Fate to Die. They Fight, Macbeth falls. They shout within

Macd.
This for my Royal Master Duncan,
This for my dearest Friend my Wife,
This for those Pledges of our Loves, my Children.
Hark I hear a Noise, sure there are more [Shout within
Reserves to Conquer.
I'le as a Trophy bear away his Sword,
To witness my Revenge. [Exit Macduff.

Macb.
Farewel vain World, and what's most vain in it, Ambition [Dies. Enter Malcolm, Seymour, Donalbain, Flean, Seaton, and Souldiers.

Malc.
I wish Macduff were safe Arriv'd, I am
In doubt for him; for Lenox I'me in grief.

Seym.
Consider Lenox, Sir, is nobly Slain:
They who in Noble Causes fall, deserve
Our Pity, not our Sorrow. Look where the Tyrant is.

Seat.
The Witches, Sir, with all the Power of Hell,
Could not preserve him from the Hand of Heaven. Enter Macduff with Macbeths Sword.

Macd.
Long Live Malcolm, King of Scotland, so you are;
And though I should not Boast, that one
Whom Guilt might easily weigh down, fell
By my Hand; yet here I present you with
The Tyrants Sword, to shew that Heaven appointed
Me to take Revenge for you, and all
That Suffered by his Power.

Malc.
Macduff, we have more Ancient Records
Then this of your successful Courage.

Macd.
Now Scotland, thou shalt see bright Day again,
That Cloud's remov'd that did Eclipse thy Sun,
And Rain down Blood upon thee. As your Arms
Did all contribute to this Victory;
So let your Voices all concur to give
One joyful Acclamation.
Long live Malcolm, King of Scotland

Malc.
We shall not make a large Expence of time
Before we Reckon with your several Loves,
And make us even with you. Thanes and Kinsman,
Henceforth be Earls, the first that ever Scotland
Saw Honour'd with that Title: And may they still Flourish
On your Families; though like the Laurels
You have Won to Day; they Spring from a Field of Blood.
Drag his body hence, and let it Hang upon
A Pinnacle in Dunsinane, to shew
To future Ages what to those is due,
Who others Right, by Lawless Power pursue.

Macd.
So may kind Fortune Crown your Raign with Peace,
As it has Crown'd your Armies with Success;
And may the Peoples Prayers still wait on you,
As all their Curses did Macbeth pursue:
His Vice shall make your Virtue shine more Bright,
As a Fair Day succeeds a Stormy Night. FINIS Actus V.

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