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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 chair me ever, or dis-seat me now.
I have lived long enough: my May 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,
[dare not.
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and
Seyton !—

Enter SEYTON.

Sey. What's your gracious pleasure?

Macb.

What news more?

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 armor.

Sey.

'Tis not needed yet.

Mach. I'll put it on.

[round;

Send out more horses, skirr the country

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 stuff'd 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 :[cast Come, sir, dispatch.-If thou couldst, doctor, 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 prep

aration

Makes us hear something.

Macb.

Bring it after me.— I will not be afraid of death and bane,

Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. [Exit. Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and

clear,

Profit again should hardly draw me here.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Country near Dunsinane. 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, [shadow And bear't before him; thereby shall we The numbers of our host, and make dis

covery

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.

Malor

'Tis his main hope:

For where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the re

volt;

[things, And none serve with him but constrained Whose hearts are absent too.

Maid.

Let our just censures

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 re

late;

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 outer

walls;

[strength The cry is still, They come. Our castle's 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, [beard, We might have met them dareful, beard to 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 [cool'd

fears:

The time has been, my senses would have 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 supp'd full with

horrors; [thoughts, Direness, familiar to my slaughterous

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 can-
dle !

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 should 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,

[thought, I look'd toward Birnam, and, anon, me The wood began to move.

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