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Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,

I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
All mortal consequence, have pronounced me thus:-
Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman,
Shall e'er have power upon thee. Then fly, false thanes,
And mingle with the English epicures:

The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,

Shall never sag with doubt, nor shake with fear.

Enter a Servant.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
Where gott'st thou that goose look?

Serv. There is ten thousand

Macb.

Serv.

Geese, villain?

Soldiers, sir.

Macb. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-livered boy. What soldiers, patch?
Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
Serv. The English force, so please you.

Macb. Take thy face hence.-Seyton!-I am sick at heart,

When I behold-Seyton, I say! This push
Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
I have lived long enough: my way of life
Is fallen 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 dare not.
Seyton!

Enter SEYTON.

What news more?

Sey. What is your gracious pleasure? Macb. Sey. All is confirmed, my lord, which was reported. Macb. I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hacked. Give me my armor.

Sey.

'Tis not needed yet.

Macb. I'll put it on.

Send out more horses, skirr the country round;

Hang those that talk of fear.- Give me mine armor.

How does your patient, doctor?

Doct.

Not so sick, my lord,

As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.

Macb.
Cure her of that.
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?

Doct.

Must minister to himself.

Therein the patient

Macb. Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.—
Come, put mine armor on; give me my staff;-
Seyton, send out.-Doctor, the thanes fly from me;
Come, sir, despatch.-If thou couldst, doctor, cast
The water of my land, find her disease,

And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
I would applaud thee to the very echo,

That should applaud again.-Pull't off, I say.

What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug,

Would scour these English hence?-Hearest thou of them? Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Makes us hear something.

Macb.

I will not be afraid of death and bane,

Bring it after me.

Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.

Profit again should hardly draw me here.

[Exit.

[Exeunt.

Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,

SCENE IV. Country near Dunsinane; a Wood in view.

Enter, with drum and colors, MALCOLM, Old SIWARD and his Son, MACDUFF, MENTETH, CATHNESS, ANGUS, Lenox, ROSSE, and Soldiers, marching.

Mal. Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand That chambers will be safe.

Ment.

We doubt it nothing.

The wood of Birnam.

Siw. What wood is this before us?
Ment.

Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a bough,
And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our host, and make discovery
Err in report of us.

Sold.

It shall be done.

Siw. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant

Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
Our setting down before't.

Mal.

'Tis his main hope; For where there is advantage to be given,

Both more and less have given him the revolt;
And none serve with him but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.

Let our just censures

Macd.
Attend the true event, and put we on
Industrious soldiership.

Siw.

The time approaches,

That will with due decision make us know

What we shall say we have, and what we owe,
Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate;
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate;
Towards which, advance the war. [Exeunt, marching.

SCENE V. Dunsinane. Within the Castle.

Enter, with drums and colors, MACBETH, SEYTON, and
Soldiers.

Macb. 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. What is that noise?
[A cry within, of women.

Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cooled
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 slaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.- -Wherefore was that cry?
Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.

Macb. She should have died hereafter;

There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and 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!

1

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 com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Mess. Gracious my lord,

I shall report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.

Macb.

Well, say, sir.

Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill. I looked toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The wood began to move.

Macb.

Liar and slave!

Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so.
Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.

Macb.
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 pall 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 a weary 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.

SCENE VI. The same. A Plain before the Castle.

Enter, with drums and colors, MALCOLM, Old SIWARD, MACDUFF, &c., and their Army, with boughs.

Mal. Now near enough; your leavy screens throw down, And show like those you are.-You, worthy uncle,

Shall, with my cousin, your right noble son,
Lead our first battle; worthy Macduff, and we,
Shall take upon us what else remains to do,
According to our order.

W

Siw.

Fare you well.—

Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,

Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.

Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.

[Exeunt. Alarums continued.

SCENE VII. The same.

Another Part of the Plain.

Enter MACBETH.

Macb. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But, bearlike, I must fight the course.-What's he That was not born of woman? Such a one

Am I to fear, or none.

Enter Young SIWARD.

Yo. Siw. What is thy name?

Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

Macb. Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name Than any is in hell.

Macb.

My name's Macbeth.

Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear.

No, nor more fearful.

Macb. Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword. I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

Macb.

[They fight, and Young Siward is slain.
Thou wast born of woman.-

But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandished by man that's of a woman born.

Alarums. Enter MACDUff.

[Exit.

Macd. That way the noise is.-Tyrant, show thy face: If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still. I cannot strike at wretched kernes, whose arms

Are hired to bear their staves; either thou, Macbeth,
Or else my sword, with an unbattered edge,

I sheathe again unheeded. There thou shouldst be;
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
And more I beg not.

[Exit. Alarum.

Enter MALCOLM and Old SIWARD.

Siw. This way, my lord.-The castle's gently rendered: The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;

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