Still he does fear; and in one of his dispirited moods, after blazing out at the messenger who tells him of the approach of Birnam wood,—
“The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac’d loon!
Where got’st thou that goose look?”
he says, finding that there are ten thousand men coming to attack him, and his followers are not stanch,—
“This push
Will chair me ever, or disseat me now.
I have liv’d long enough: my way of life
Is fall’n into the sear, 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 fain deny.”
But in a moment he is himself again, and cries:—
“I’ll fight till from my bones the flesh be hack’d.
Give me my armor.”
In this mood the illness and death of the queen is nothing to him; he fights bravely to the end; though, superstitious to the last, his “better part of man” is cowed by the knowledge that Macduff “was from his mother’s womb untimely ripped,” and so not of woman born.
And so, by the sword of Macduff, perishes the worst villain, save Iago, that Shakespeare ever drew.
We have called the witches the projections of Macbeth’s evil thoughts, and suggested that they were only objective representations of his inward being. To this it may be objected that they were seen also by Banquo. But this may well be; for Banquo also seems to have had evil intentions, which are vaguely hinted at in the play. He constantly harps on the idea that his children are to be kings. Approaching the castle of Inverness at night, before the murder of the king, he says,—
“Hold, take my sword....
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers!
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
Gives way to in repose!—Give me my sword.”