Macbeth - Act 5 Scene 5
Dunsinane. Within the castle.
Macbeth now has an army with him as well, though their action is passive: they prepare to fortify the castle, rather than marching out to battle, as Macbeth would prefer.
Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum and colours
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still 'They come;' our castle's strength
Will laugh 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.
These are presumably Lady Macbeth's attendants, though this is never explicitly explained.
A cry of women within
What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
Macbeth may suspect the reason behind the women's cries, which prompts this reflection on his newfound immunity to horror.
MACBETH
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 supped full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The Queen, my lord, is dead.
Macbeth's reaction is telling: rather than ask any questions about the circumstances of his wife's death, he launches into a contemplation of life's futility. Is this a direct response to the loss of Lady Macbeth, or a broader indication of his state at this point?
Macbeth's language here is explicitly theatrical, inviting a comparison to the play itself, and to theatre more generally.
MACBETH
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'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
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue;
Thy story quickly.
Messenger
Gracious my lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.
MACBETH
Well, say, sir.
The Messenger's report aids in the staging of the "movement" of Birnam Wood: actually showing a group of men carrying branches risks being ridiculous, but the shaken, hesitant Messenger calls on the audience to imagine the sight as powerfully terrifying.
Messenger
As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I looked toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The wood began to move.
MACBETH
Liar and slave!
Messenger
Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.
Where Malcolm, Macduff, and the rebels fight for the powerful causes of honor, revenge, and patriotism, Macbeth will now fight because he has no choices left, though he has nothing to gain but his inevitable death.
MACBETH
If thou speak'st 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, and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood
Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
If this which he avouches does appear,
There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
I gin to be aweary of the sun,
And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! Come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back.
Exeunt