The Tragedy of Macbeth Act V

Act five of the Tragedy of Macbeth by William Shakespeare. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Act five, Scene one dunsinane ante room in the castle. Enter a doctor of physic and a waiting gentlewoman.

I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?

Since his Majesty went into the field. I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards, seal it, and again return to bed. Yet all this while in a most fast sleep, a.

Great perturbation in nature to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching in this slumbery agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances. What at any time have you heard her say.

That, sir, which I will not report after.

Her you may to me, and tis most meat.

You should neither to you nor any one having no witness to confirm my speech.

Enter Lady Macbeth, with a taper lo you.

Here she comes. This is her very gauze, and upon my life fast asleep. Observe her? Stand close?

How came she by that light?

Why it stood by her? She has light by her? Continually tis her command?

You see her eyes are open, ay.

But their sense is shut.

What is it she does?

Now?

Look how she rubs her hands.

It is an accustomed action with her to seem thus washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.

Yet here's a spot.

Hark she speaks. I will set down what comes from her to satisfy my remembrance. The more strongly.

Out damned spot out, I say, one, two? Why then tis time to do it? Hell is murky five, my lord Phi a soldier and a feared What need we fear? Who knows it? When none can call our power to account? Yet? Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

Do you mark that.

The Thane of Fife had a wife?

Where is she now?

What will these hands ne'er be clean? No more of that, my lord? No more of that? You are all with this starting, Go.

Too, Go too. You have known what you should not.

She has spoke what she should not. I am sure of that. Heaven knows what she has known.

Here's the smell of the blood. Still all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.

Oh ah, what a sigh is there?

The heart is sorely charged.

I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body. Well, well, pray God it be sir.

This disease is beyond my practice. Yet I have known those who have walked in their sleep, who have died holy in their beds.

Wash your hands, put on your nightgown. Look not so pale, I tell you yet again, Bankwo is buried. He cannot come out on his grave. Even so, to bed to bed. There's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What it's done cannot be undone to bed, to bed, to bed, exit.

Will she go now to bed?

Directly?

Foul whisperings are abroad. Unnatural deeds do breed, unnatural troubles. Infected minds to their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. More needs she the divine than the physician. God, God, forgive us all look after her, Remove from her the means of all annoyance, and still keep eyes upon her.

So good night my mind she has mate it and amazed my sight I think, but dare not speak.

Good night, Good.

Doctor Excellent, Act five, Scene two. The country near Dunsinane, drum and colors, enter mentees, Cafness, Agnes, Lennox and soldiers.

The English power is new, led on by Malcolm, his uncle Seward and the good mepduff Revengers burn in them for their dear causes, would to the breeding and grim alarm excite the mortified man.

Near burnham Wood. Shall we well mate them? That way are they coming?

Who knows if Donaldbane be with his brother?

For certain, Sir, he is not. I am a file of all legendry. There is a Seward's son, and many undrof youths that even now brought us dear first of manhood.

What does the.

Tyrant Great Dunzanane He strongly fortifies. Some say he's mad, others that letter hate him. Do call it valiant fury. But for certain he cannot buckle his distempered cause within the belt of rule.

Now does he feel his secret murder is sticking on his hands? Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith, breach those he commands, move only in command, nothing in love. Now does he feel his title hang loose about him, like a giant's robe upon a dwarfish thief, who.

Then shall braime has pestered senses to recoil and start when all that is within him does condemn itself for being there?

Well, march weon to give obedience where it is truly owed. Meets me the medicine of a sickly wheel, And with him pour we in our country's purge. Each drop of us.

Oh so much as it needs to do. The sovereign flower and drown the wheats, make we our match towards Bernau.

Excient Marching, Act five, Scene three, Dundanane, a room in the castle. Enter Macbeth, doctor and attendance.

Bring me no more reports, Let them fly all till burnham Wood removed the Dunsanane. I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know all mortal consequences have pronounced me. Thus fear not, Macbeth. No man that's born of woman, shall e'er have power upon thee. Then fly false thins and mingle with the English epicures. The mind I sway by, and the heart eye bear shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. Enter a servant, the devil, damn thee black Thou cream face loon, Where goddest thou that goose?

Look there is ten thousand.

Geese villain soldiers, Sir, go prick thy face and overread thy fear, Thou lily livered boy, What soldiers patch death of my soul? Those linen cheeks of thine are counselors to fear what soldiers wayface.

The English fools? So please you.

Take thy face? Hence exit, servant Satan. I am sick at heart when I behold Setan, I say this push will cheer me ever or disceit me? Now I have lived long enough. My way of life has fallen into the sere, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends I must not look to have but in their stead curses not loud, but deep mouth, honor breath which the poor heart would feign, deny and dare not setan?

Enter Setan?

What is your gracious pleasure?

What news? More?

All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.

I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.

Give me my armor tis not needed yet.

I'll put it on. Send out more horses, skir the country round, hang those that talk of fear, Give me mine armor. How does your patient doctor?

Not so sick? My lord? As she is troubled with thick coming fancies that keep her from her rest?

Cure her of that? Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased? Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raise out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote, cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart.

Therein, the patient must minister to himself.

Throw physic to the dog. I'll none of it. Come, put mine armor on, give me my staff, satan, Send out doctor. The thans fly from me, Come, sir, despatch. If thou could'st doctor, cast the water of my land, find her disease, and purge it to a sound in pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo that should applaud again. Pull it off. I say, what, rhubarb sime or purgative drug would scour these English. Hence hearest thou of them.

Ahie, my good lord, your royal preparation makes us hear something.

Bring it after me. I will not be afraid of death and pain till Burnham force come to Dunsanane aside.

Were I from Dunsanane away and clear profit again should hardly draw me here?

Excellent Act five, Scene four, country near Burnham Wood, Drum and colors enter, Malcolm Seaward and Young Seaward, macduff Menteith Cafness, Agnes Lennox Ross and soldiers marching cousins.

I hope the days are near at hand the chambers will be safe.

We doubt it nothing.

What would is this before us?

The word of Burnham.

Let every soldier he him down about at bart for him. Thereby shall we shadow the numbers of our host and make discovery er in report of us It shall be done.

We learn no other, but the confident tyrant keeps still in Dancinane, and will endure our setting down before it tis.

His main hope. For where there is advantage to be given, both more and less have given him the revolt, and none serve with him, but constrained things whose hearts are absent too.

Let our just censures attend the true event, and put we on industrious soldiership.

The time approaches that will with do decision make us know what we shall say we have and what we owe. Thought speculatives, their unsure hopes relate. But certain issue strokes must arbitrate towards which advance the war.

Excellent Marching Act five, Scene five Dunzanane within the castle enter Macbeth Setan, and soldiers with drum and colors.

Hang out our banners on the outward walls. The cry is still they come our castle. Strength will laugh a siege to scorn here, Let them lie till famine, and the agu eat them up. Were they not forced with those that should be ours, we might have met them, dareful beard to beard, and beat them backward home.

A cry of women within?

What is that noise?

It is the cry of women, my good lord.

Exit, I have almost forgot the taste of fears. The time has been. My senses would have cooled to hear a night shriek, and my fell of hair would add a dismal treatise, rouse and stir as life were in it I have supped full with horrors, direness familiar to my slaughterest thoughts cannot once start me re enter setan Where four was that cry the queen, my lord is dead?

She should have died hereafter there would have been a time for such a word. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace, from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time, and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out out brief candle life spu a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Enter a messenger, thou comest to use thy tongue thy story quickly.

Gracious, my lord, I should report that which I say I saw, but know not how to do it.

Well, say, sir, I did.

Stand my watch upon the hill. I look toward Burnham, and Annon methought the wood began to.

Move, Liar and slave, Let me.

Endure your wrath. If it be not so within this three mile, may you see it coming? I see a moving grove.

If thou speakest false upon the next tree. Shalt thou hang alive till famine cling thee. If thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much I pull in resolution, I begin to doubt the equivocation of the fiend that lies like truth. Fear not till burnham wood do come to Dunsinane. Now a wood comes toward Dunsanane, arm arm and out. If this which he avouches does appear, there is no flying heads nor tearing here.

I gin to be a weary of the sun, and wish the estate of the world were now undone. The alarm bell, blow, wind, come rack, at least will die with harness on our back.

Excellent Act five, Scene six, Dunzanane before the castle, drum and colors enter Malcolm Seaward Macduff and their army with boughs.

Now near enough your leafy screens throw down and show like those you are.

You worthy, Uncle, shall with my cousin your right noble son, lead our first battle worthy Macduff, and we shall take upon what else remains to do according to our order.

Very will do we but find the tyrants paw tonight. Let us be beaten. If we cannot fight.

Make all our trumpets speak, give them all breath, those clamorous hobbinges of blood and death.

Exciant, Act five, Scene seven, another part of the field alarms, enter Macbeth.

They have tied me to a stake. I cannot fly, but bear like I must fight the course. What see that was not born of woman? Such a one am I to fear or none?

Enter Young Seaward.

What is thy name?

Thou'lt be afraid to hear it?

No, though thou call'st thyself a hotter name than.

Any is in hell, my name's Macbeth.

The devil himself could not pronounce a title more hateful to mine.

Ear no, nor more fearful.

Thou liest, abhorred, tyrant. With my sword, I'll prove the lie thou speakest.

They fight, and Young Seaward is slain.

Thou wast born of woman? But swords. I smile at weapons, laughed to scorn, brandish by man. That's have a woman born.

Exit alarms enter Macduff.

That way the noise is tyrant. Show thy face. If thou beest slain, and with no stroke of mine, my wife and children's ghosts will haunt me. Still I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms are hired to bear their staves, either thou Macbeth or else my sword with an unbattered edge I sheathe again undeeded there thou shouldst be by this great clatter, one of greatest notes seems bruted.

Let me find him fortune and more.

I beg not exit alarms, Enter Malcolm and seaward.

This way, my lord. The Castle's gently rendered the tyrants people on both sides to fight. The noble Thanes do bravely in the war. The day almost itself, Professor yawes, and little ist to do.

We have met with foes that strike beside us.

Enter Sir, the castle excellent alarms, Act five, Scene eight, a part of the field. Enter Macbeth.

Why should I play the Roman fool and die on mine own sword? Whilst I see lives the gashes do better upon them?

Enter Macduff, turn hell hound, turn.

Of all men. Else. I have avoided thee, but get thee back. My soul is too much charged with blood of thine. Already I have no words. My voice is in my sword. Thou, bloodier villain than terms, can give thee out they fight, Thou losest labor as easy mayest thou the intrenched 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 women born.

Despair thy charm. And if the angel whom thou still hast served tell THEE macduff was from his mother's womb untimely ripped.

A cursed be that tongue that tells me so, for hath cowed my better part of man. And be these juggling fiends no more believe that patter with us in a double sense, that keep the word of promise to our ear and break it to our hope. He'll not fight with thee.

Then yield thee coward, and live to be the shaw and gaze of the time. We'll have THEE as our rarer monsters are painted on a pole, and under it here may you see the tyrant.

I will not yield to kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, and to be baited with a rabble's curse. Though burnham Wood be come to Dunsanane, and thou opposed, being of no woman born, yet I will try the last before my body. I throw my warlike shield, lay on Macduff, and damned be him that first cries.

Hold enough, excellent fighting alarms, Retreat, flourish, enter with drum and colors. Malcolm seaward ross the other thanes and soldiers.

I would the friends we miss were safe arrived.

Some must go off. And yet by these I see so great a day as this is cheaply bought.

Mac Duff is missing, and your noble son, your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt.

He only lived but till he was a man, the which no sooner had his prowess confirmed in the unshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he died. Then he is dead, Aye, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow must not be measured by his worth, For than it hath.

No end had he his hurts before Aye on the front. Why then, God's soldier be he had I as many sons as I have heirs, I would not wish them to affair a debt, And so his knell is nulled.

He's worth more so, and that I'll spend for him.

He is worth no more. They say he parted well and paid his score, and so God be with him. Here comes new a comfort.

Re enter Macduff with Macbeth's head.

Hail King, for so thou art behold where stands the usurpers? Curse it head. The time is free. I see thee compassed with thy kingdom. Spurl that speak my salutation in their minds, whose voices I desire aloud with mine. Hail King of Scotland, Hel King of Scotland.

Flourish.

We shall not spend a large expense 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 honor named What's More to Do? Which would be planted newly with the time, as calling home our exiled friends abroad that fled the snares of watchful tyranny, producing forth the cruel ministers of this dead butcher and his fiendlike queen, who, as tis thought, by self and violent hands, took off her life. This and what needful else that calls upon us, by the grace of grace, we will perform in measure, time and place.

So thanks to all at once said to each one whom we invite to see us crowned.

At schoon, flourish excillent. End of Act five. End of the Tragedy of Macbeth by William Shakespeare.

The Tragedy of Macbeth Act V

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