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Curses not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Seyton !

Enter Seyton.
Sey. What 's your gracious pleasure ?

What news more ? 140 Sey. All is confirm’d, my lord, which was reported.

Macb. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hack’d.
Give me my armour.

'Tis not needed yet.
Macb. I'll put it on.-

Send out more horses, skir the country round; 145 Hang those that talk of fear.-Give me mine armour.

How does your patient, doctor ?

Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.

Cure her of that: Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased; 150 Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;

Raze out the written troubles of the brain ;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart ?

Therein the patient 155 Must minister to himself.

Macb. Throw physic to the dogs, I 'll none of it.-
Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff :-
Seyton, send out.-Doctor, the thanes fly from me.-

Come, sir, despatch.—If thou couldst, doctor, cast 160 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, 165 Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?

Doct. Ay, my good lord ; your royal preparation
Makes us hear something

Bring it after me.-


I will not be afraid of death and bane,
Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.

Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
Profit again should hardly draw me here. [Exit.

SCENE IV.—Country near Dunsinane. A Wood in diew. Enter, with drum and colours, Malcolm, old SIWARD and his

Son, MacDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, Lenox, ROSSE, and Soldiers, marching.

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

We doubt it nothing.
Siw. What wood is this before us ?

The wood of Birnam. 175 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.

Soldiers. It shall be done.

Siw. We learn no other but the confident tyrant 180 Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure

Our setting down before 't.

'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. 185 Macd.

Let our just censures
Attend the true event, and put we on
Industrious soldiership.

The time approaches,
That will with due decision make us know

What we shall say we have, and what we owe. 190 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 colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and

Macb. Hang out our banners on the outward walls ;

The cry is still, “ They come :” our castle's strength 195 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. [A cry within, of women.

What is that noise ? 200 Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. [Exit.

Macb. 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
205 As life were in 't : I have supp'd full with horrors ;

Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.-

(Re-enter SEYTON.

Wherefore was that cry?
Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.

Macb. She should have died hereafter;
210 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
215 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, 220 Signifying nothing.–

Enter a Messenger.
Thou com’st to use thy tongue; thy story, quickly.

Mess. Gracious my lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,

But know not how to do it.

Well, say, sir.
225 Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill,

I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The wood began to move.

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. 230 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 pull in resolution; and begin
235 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,
240 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 colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD,

MacDUFF, etc., and their Army, with boughs. 245 Mal. Now, near enough; your leavy screens throw

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 's what else remains to do,

According to our order. 250 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

Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.


SCENE VII.The same. Another part of the Plain.

Enter MACBETH. 255 Macb. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,

But, bear-like, 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. 260 Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter

Than any is in hell.
Macb. My name 's Macbeth.
Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a

More hateful to mine ear.

No, nor more fearful.
Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

[They fight, and young SIWARD is slain. 265 Macb.

Thou wast born of woman.-
But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandish'd by man that 's of a woman born. [Exit.

Alarums. Enter MACDUFF.
Macd. That way the noise is : Tyrant, show thy face :

If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine, 270 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 unbatter'd edge,
I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be ;

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