SCENE III.

Dunsinane. A room in the castle.

Enter MACBETH, Doctor and Attendants. Mach. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all: 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 consequences 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 got'st thou that goose look?

Serv. There is ten thousand

Macb.

Serv.

10

Macb. Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver'd 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.
Mach. Take thy face hence.

20

[Exit Servant.
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 fall'n into the sere, 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!

Enter SEYTON.

Sey. What is your gracious pleasure?
Mach.

What news more? 30

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.

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 armour.
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 armour on; give me my staff. Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me. Come, sir, dispatch. 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, cyme, or what purgative drug,

40

50

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

Macb.

Bring it after me.

I will not be afraid of death and bane,

Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.

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

SCENE IV. Country near Birnam wood.

Drum and colours.

60

[Exeunt.

Enter MALCOLM, old SIWARD and his Son, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, Ross, 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.

Siu. 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.

Soldiers.

It shall be done.

Sio. 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.

Macd.

Let our just censures

The time approaches

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

Siro.

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.

10

20

[Exeunt, marching.

SCENE V.

Dunsinane.

Within the castle.

Enter MACBETHI, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum and

colours.

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

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 cool'd
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;
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.

Re-enter SEYTON.

Wherefore was that cry?

Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.

Mach. She should have died hereafter;

[Erit.

10

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!
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 comest 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, I look'd 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 pull 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 aweary of the sun,

[Exeunt.

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.

SCENE VI. Dunsinane. Before the castle.

Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, old SIWARD, MACDUFF, and their Army, with boughs.

Mal. Now near enough: your leafy 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's what else remains to do,
According to our order.

Siro.

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,

9

Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII. Another part of the field.

Alarums. Enter MACBETH.

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

But, bear-like, I must fight the course.
That was not born of woman?

What's he

Such a one

Am I to fear, or none.

Enter young SIWARD.

Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

Yo. Siw. What is thy name?

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

My name's Macbeth.

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

No, nor more fearful.

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

11

[They fight and young Siward is slain.
Thou wast born of woman.

Mach.
But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandish'd 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 kerns, 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; 20 By this great clatter, one of greatest note

Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!

And more I beg not.

[Exit. Alarums.

Enter MALCOLM and old SIWARD.