Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Macb. Macb.
Macb. Thou was't borne of woman;
Macb. But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorne,
Macb. Brandish'd by man that's of a Woman borne.
Macb. Exit.
Macb. Alarums. Enter Macduffe.
Macd. Macd.
Macd. That way the noise is: Tyrant shew thy face,
Macd. If thou beest slaine, and with no stroake of mine,
Macd. My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me still:
Macd. I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose armes
Macd. Are hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth,
Macd. Or else my Sword with an vnbattered edge
Macd. I sheath againe vndeeded. There thou should'st be,
Macd. By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Macd. Seemes
Macd. The Tragedie of Macbeth.
Macd. Seemes bruited. Let me finde him Fortune,
Macd. And more I begge not.
Macd. Exit.