'Till Birnam wood remove to Dunfinane,
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? Spirits, that know
All mortal consequences, have pronounc'd me,
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 fag with doubt, nor shake with fear.

Enter an Attendant, hastily.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon!

Where got'st thou that goose look?

Att. There is ten thousand.

MAC. Geese, villain?

Att. Soldiers, fir.

Mac. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,

[heart,

Thou lilly-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
Death of thy foul! those linnen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
Att. The English force, so please you.
MAC. Take thy face hence. _ Seyton! - I am fick at
When I behold _ Seyton, I fay! _ This push
Will cheer me ever, or disease me now.
I have liv'd long enough: my way of life
Is faln into the fear, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not. _
Seyton!

Ser. What is your gracious pleasure?

MAC. What news more?

Ser. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported. Mach. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hack'd..

Give me my armour.

Ser. 'Tis not needed yet.

Mach. I'll put it on.

Send out more horses, skirr the country round; Hang those that talk of fear. _ Give me mine armour. How does your patient, doctor?

Dec. Not fo fick, my lord,

As she is troubl'd with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.

MAC. Cure her of that:

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd;
Pluck from the memory a rooted forrow;
Rase out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuft bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?

Doc. Therein the patient

Must minister to himself.

MAC. Throw physick to the dogs, I'll none of it.

Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff:
Seyton, fend out. _ Doctor, the thanes fly from me:
Come, fir, dispatch: _ If thou could'st, doctor, caft
The water of my land, find her disease,
And purge it to a found and priftine 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 fcour these English hence? Hearest thou of them?

Doc. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation

Makes us hear fomething.

Mach. Bring it after me.

I will not be afraid of death and bane,

'Till Birnam forest come to Dunfinane.

Doc.

"Were I from Dunfinane away and clear, " "Profit again should hardly draw me here." [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Plains leading to Dunfinane; a Wood adjacent. Enter, with Drum and Colours, MALCOLM; old SEYWARD, and his Son; MACDUFF, MENTETH, and the other Thanes,

and Soldiers, marching.

MAL. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand, That chambers will be fsafe.

MEN. We doubt it nothing.

0. S.

What wood is this before us?

MEN. The wood of Birnam.

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

Sol. It shall be done.

0. S. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant Keeps still in Dunfinane, and will endure Our fetting down before it.

MAL. 'Tis his main hope:

For where there is advantage to be gone,
Both more and less have given him the revolt;
And none serve with him but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.

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

:

Industrious soldiership.

0. S. The time approaches,
That will with due decision make us know
What we shall say we have, and what we owe.
Thoughts fpeculative their unsure hopes relate;
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:

Towards which, advance the war.

[Exeunt marching.

SCENE V. Dunfinane. A Plat-form within the Castle. Enter, with Drum and Colours, MACBETH,

SEYTON, and Soldiers.

Mach. Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is ftill, They come: Our castle's strength
Will laugh a fiege to scorn: here let them lye,
'Till famine, and the ague, eat them up :
Were they not forc'd 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.

Ser. It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Mach. I have almost forgot the taste of fears :
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-fhriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir
As life were in't: I have fupt full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me. _ Wherefore was that cry?
Ser. The queen, my lord, is dead.
MAC. She should have dy'd hereafter;
There would have been a time for fuch a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last fyllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to study 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 ideot, full of found and fury,

Signifying nothing.

Enter a Messenger.

Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

Mes. Gracious my lord,

I should report that which I'd say I saw,

But know not how to do't.

MAC. Well, say it, fir.

Mes. As I did stand my watch upon the hill,

I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,

The wood began to move.

MAC. Liar, and flave!

[triking him.

Mes. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not fo:

Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.

MAC. If thou speak'ft false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
"Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be footh,
I care not if thou dost for me as much..

I pull in resolution; and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth: Fear not, 'till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunfinane; and now a wood
Comes toward Dunfinane. _ Arm, arm, and out!
If this, which he avouches, does appear,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.