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 | 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 on a pole, and underwrit, 'Here may you see the tyrant.' | |
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| 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 opposed, 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! | |
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| Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, SIWARD, ROSS, the other Thanes, and Soldiers |
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| I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. | |
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| Some must go off: and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought. | |
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| Macduff is missing, and your noble son. | |
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| 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 confirm'd In the unshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he died. | |
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