And many unrough youths, that even now Cath. Great Dunfinane he ftrongly fortifies; He cannot buckle his diftemper'd Cause Ang. Now do's he feel His fecret murthers fticking on his hands; Ment. Who then fhall blame His pefter'd fenfes to recoil, and start, Cath. Well, march we on, To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd: And with him pour we, in our Country's purge, Len. Or fo much as it needs, To dew the fovereign flower, and drown the weeds. SCENE, the Caftle of DUN SINA NE. Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants. Mach. B RING me no more Reports, let them fly all: 'Till Birnam-wood remove to Dunfinane, I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman, • Shall e'er have power upon thee. Thanes, Then fly, falfe And And mingle with the English Epicures. Shall never fagg with doubt, nor shake with fear. Enter a Servant. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd lown! Where got'st thou that goofe-look ? Ser. There are ten thousand Macb. Geefe, villain? Ser. Soldiers, Sir. Macb. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lilly-liver'd boy. What foldiers, patch? Death of thy foul! those linnen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear. What foldiers, whey-face? Ser. The English force, fo please you. Macb. Take thy face henceheart, When I behold Seyton! I'm fick at This push Seyton, I fay! Will cheer me ever, or disease 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 honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have: but, in their stead, Curfes not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton, Enter Seyton. Sey. What is 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 hackt; Give me my armour. Sey. 'Tis not needed yet. Macb. I'll put it on. Send out more horfes, skirre the country round; Hang thofe, that talk of fear. Give me mine armour. How do's your Patient, Doctor? Doct. Not fo fick, my lord, VO L. VI. P Αν As fhe is troubled with thick-coming fancies, Macb. Cure her of that: Canft thou not minifter to a mind difeas'd, Doct. Therein the Patient Macb. Throw phyfick to the dogs, I'll none of it And purge it to a found and priftine health ; Would scour these English hence! hear it thou of them? Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal Preparation Makes us hear fomething.. Macb. Bring it after me; I will not be afraid of death and bane, 'Till Birnam-forest come to Dunfinane. Doct. Were I from Dunfinane away, and clear, Profit again fhould hardly draw me here. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to Birnam-Wood. Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, Siward's Son, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, and Soldiers marching. NOUSINS, I hope, the days are near at Mal. Chand, That chambers will be fafe. Ment. We doubt it nothing. Siw. What wood is this before us? Ment. The wood of Birnam. Mal. Let every foldier hew him down a bough, And And bear't before him; thereby fhall we shadow Sold. It fhall be done. Siw. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant Mal. 'Tis his main hope: For where there is advantage to be given, Macd. Let our just cenfures Attend the true event, and put we on Siw. The time approaches, That will with due decifion make us know SCENE changes to the Castle of Dunfinane. Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers with drums and colours. Macb. HANG out our banners on the outward The Cry is ftill, they come our Caftle's ftrength 'Till famine and the ague eat them up: Were they not forc'd with those that fhould be ours, Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. As life were in't. I have fupt full with horrors; Macb. She fhould have dy'd hereafter; Enter a Meffenger. Thou com'ft to use thy tongue: thy ftory quickly. I fhould report That which, I fay, I faw, Macb. Well, fay it, Sir. Mef. As I did ftand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The Wood began to move. Macb. Liar, and flave! Mef. Let me endure [Striking him. your wrath, if't be not fo: Within this three mile may you fee it coming; I fay, a moving grove. Macb. If thou speak'ft falfe, Upon the next tree fhalt thou hang alive, 'Till famine cling thee: If thy fpeech be footh, I care not, if thou doft for me as much. I pull in Refolution, and begin To doubt th' 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! There |