Act 5 - Scene 5
Dunsinane. Within the castle.
Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum and colours
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength
a siege to scorn: here let them lie
Till famine and the ague 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.
I have almost forgot the taste of fears;
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-
shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
As life were in't: I have supp'd full with
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
Cannot once start me.
Wherefore was that cry?
The queen, my lord, is dead.
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow,
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's but 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
an idiot, full of sound and fury,
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.
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