Mucb. I will be satisfied: deny me this, And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know: Why sinks that cauldron! And what noise⚫ is this? [Hautboys. 1 Witch. Shew! 2 Witch. Shew! a Witch. Shew! All. Shew his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, so depart.

Eight Kings appear, and pass over the Stage in order; the last, with a Glass in his hand : BANQUO following.

Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo;
Down!

Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls:-And thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first :-
A third is like the former :-Filthy hags!
Why do you shew me this ?-A fourth-Start, eyes!
What! will the line stretch out to the crack of
doom +1

Another yet?-A seventh ?-I'll see no more :-
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
Which shews me many more; and some I see,
That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry :
Horrible sight!-Ay, now, I see, 'tis true;
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his.-What, is this so?
1 Witch. Ay, Sir, all this is so:-But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights §,
And shew the best of our delights;
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antique round:
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.

[Music.-The Witches dance, and vanish. Macb. Where are they? Goue-Let this perninicious hour

Stand aye accursed in the calendar!

Come in, without there!

Enter LENOX.

Len. What's your grace's will?

Macb. Saw you the weird sisters?
Len. No, my lord.

Macb. Came they not by you?

Len. No, indeed, my lord.

Macb. Infected be the air whereon they ride;

And damn'd all those that trust them!-I did hear The galloping of horse: Who was't came by?

Len. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word,

Macduff is fled to England.
Macb. Fled to England?
Len. Ay, my good lord.

Mach. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits: The flighty purpose never is o'ertook,

Unless the deed go with it: from this moment,
The very firstlings of my heart shall be

The firstlings of my hand. And even now

To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and

done;

The castle of Macduff I will surprise ;
Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace his line. No boasting like a tool;
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool:
But no more sights!-Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are.
[Exeunt.
SCENE 11.-Fife.-A Room in MACDUFF's Castle.

Enter Lady MACDUFF, her SON, and Rosse. L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the land?

Rosse. You must have patience, madam.

L. Macd. He had none :

His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors **.

Rosse. You know not,

Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear.

The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All is the fear, and nothing is the love;
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason.

Rosse. My dearest coz',

I pray you, school yourself: but, for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
But cruel are the times, when we are traiters,
The fits o' the season. I dare not speak much further:
And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear :
But float upon a wild and violent sea,
Each way, and move.-I take my leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be here again :
Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before.-My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!

L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort:
I take my leave at once.
[Exit Rosse.

L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead;
And what will you do now? How will you live!
Son. As birds do, mother.

I.. Macd. What, with worms and flies?
Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
L. Macd. Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the net
nor lime,

The pit-fall, nor the gin.

Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are

not set for.

My father is not dead, for all your saying.
L. Macd. Yes, he is dead; how will thon de for a
father?

Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband!
L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.
Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet i' faith,

With wit enough for thee.

Son. Was my father, traitor, mother f

L. Macd. Ay, that he was.

Son. What is a traitor?

L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.
Son. And be all traitors that do so?

L. Macd. Every one that does so, is a traitor, and

must be hang'd.

Son. And must they all be hang'd, that swear and

lie?

L. Macd. Every one.

Son. Who must hang them?

1. Macd. Why, the honest men.

Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools: for there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men, and hang up them.

L. Macd. Now God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father?

Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.

L. Macd. Poor prattler! how thou talk'st!
Enter a MESSENGER.

Mess. Bless you, fair dame ! I am not to you known,
Though in your state of honour I am perfect t
I doubt, some danger does approach you nearly:
If you will take a homely man's advice,
Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;
To do worse to you, were fell cruelty,
Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve

you!

I dare abide no longer.

L. Macd. Whither should I fly?

[Exit Messenger.

I have done no harm. But I remember now

I am in this earthly world; where to do harm, Is often laudable; to do good, sometime, Accounted dangerous folly: Why then, alas! Do I put up that womanly defence,

his babes,

His mansion, and his titles, in a place

From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; He wants the natural touch; for the poor wren,

Mur. What, you egg? Young fry of treachery?

Son. He has kill'd me, mother:

Run away, I pray you.

[Dies. (Exit L. Macduff, crying murder, and pursued by the Murderers.

SCENE III.-England.-A Room in the King's

Palace.

Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF.

Macd. Boundless intemperance

In nature is a tyranny: it hath been
The untimely emptying of the happy throne,
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours: you may
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,

there

Weep our sad bosoms empty.

Macd. Let us rather

Hold fast the mortal sword; and, like good men,
Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom : each new morn,
New widows howl; new orphans cry; new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out
Like syllable of dolour.

Mal. What I believe, I'll wail;

What know, believe; and, what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend +, I will.
What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you have loved him well:
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but
something
You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,
To appease an angry god.

Macd. I am not treacherous

Mal. But Macbeth is.

A good and virtuous nature may recoil,

In an imperial charge. But 'crave your pardon : That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose: Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell: Though all things foul would wear the brows of

grace,

Yet grace must still look so.

Macd. I have lost my hopes.

Mal. Perchance, even there, where I did find my doubts.

Why in that rawness left you wife, and child, (Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,) Without leave-taking ?-1 pray you,

Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,

But mine own safeties:-You may be rightly just, Whatever I shall think.

Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,

For goodness dares not check thee! Wear thou thy

wrongs,

Thy title is affeer'd-Fare thee well, lord: I would not be the villain that thou think'st, For the whole space that's in a tyrant's grasp, And the rich East to boot.

Mal. Be not offended:

I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
I think, our country sinks beneath the yoke;
It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds: I think, withal,
There would be hands uplifted in my right;
And here, from gracious England, have I offer
Of goodly thousands: but, for all this,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor cour.try
Shall have more vices than it had before;
More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed.

Macd. What should he be !

Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I know $ All the particulars of vice so grafted,

That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state
Esteem him as a lamb, being compared
With my confineless harms.

Macd. Not in the legions

Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd
In evils, to top Macbeth.

Mal. I grant him bloody,

Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
Snad: n, malicious, smacking of every sin
That has a name: but there's no bottom, none,
my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up
+ Befriend.

• Birthright.

i. e. A good mind may recede from goodness in the execution of a royal commission. Legally settled by those who had the final adjudication. Lascivious.

We have willing dames enough; there cannot be
That vulture in you to devour so many

As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so inclined.

Mal. With this, there grows,

In my most ill composed affection, such
A stanchless avarice, that, were I king,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands;
Desire his jewels, and this other's house:
And my more-having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more; that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good, and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.

Macd. This avarice

Than summer-seeding lust: and it hath been
Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root
The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foysons to fill up your will,
Of your mere own: all these are portable †,
With other graces weigh'd.

Mal. But I have none: The king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perséverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them; but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I shoula
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.

Macd. O Scotland! Scotland!

Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak;
I am as I have spoken.

No, not to live.-O nation miserable,
Macd. Fit to govern!

With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accursed,
And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king; the queen that bore
thee,

Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself,
Have banish'd me from Scotland.-O, my breast,
Thy hope ends here!

Mal. Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul

Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
By many of these trains hath sought to win me
Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous hastet. But God above
Deal between thee and me! For even now
I put myself to thy direction, and
Unspeak mine own detraction; here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman; never was forsworn;
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own;
At no time broke my faith; would not betray
The devil to his fellow; and delight

No less in truth than life: my first false speaking
Was this upon myself: what I am truly,
Is thine, and my poor country's, to command:
Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach,
Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
All ready at a point, was setting forth:
Now we'll together; and the chance, of goodness,
Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at

A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which, often, since my here-remain in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows; but strangely-visited people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures;
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,

To the succeeding royalty he leaves

The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy;

And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.

Enter RosSE.

Macd. See, who comes here ?

Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not. Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. Mal. I know him now: Good God, betimes re

move

The means that make us strangers:

Rosse. Sir, Amen.

Macd. Stands Scotland where it did t

Rosse. Alas, poor country:

Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot

Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the air,

Are made, not mark'd; where, violent sorrow seems A modern ecstacy; the dead man's knell

Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives

Expire before the flowers in their caps,

Dying, or ere they sicken.

Macd. O, relation,

Too nice, and yet too true!

Mal. What is the newest grief?

That ever yet they heard.

Mard. Humph! I guess at it.

Rosse. Your castle is surprized; your wife, and babes,

Savagely slaughter'd to relate the manner,
Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
To add the death of you.

Mal. Merciful heaven!—

What, man! Ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak, Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. Macd. My children too!

Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all That could be found.

Macd. And I must be from thence!

My wife kill'd too?

Rosse. I have said.

Mal. Be comforted:

Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.

Macd. He has no children.-All my pretty ones!
Did you say, all?-O, hell-kite!-All?
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell swoop!

Mal. Dispute it like a man.
Macd. I shall do so;

But I must also feel it as a man:

I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me.-Did heaven look on,
And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
They were all struck for thee! Naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls:-Heaven rest them

now!

Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let

grief

Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue 1-But, gentle heaven,
Cut short all intermission +; front to front,
Bring thou this tiend of Scotland, and myself;
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too.

Mal. This tune goes manly.

Come, go we to the king; our power is ready; Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth

Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace! Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did leave them.

Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; how goes it?

Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings,

Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
Of many worthy fellows that were out;
Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot:
Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
Would create soldiers, make our women fight,
To doff their dire distresses.

Mal. Be it their comfort,

We are coming thither: gracious England hath
Leut us good Siward, and ten thousand men ;
An older, and a better soldier, none

That Christendom gives out.

Rosse. 'Would I could answer

This comfort with the like! But I have words,
That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
Where hearing should not latch them.
Macd. What concern they?

The general cause; or is it a fee-grief¶,
Due to some single breast?

Rosse. No mind, that's honest,

But in it shares some woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone.

Macd. If it be mine,

Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.
Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for

Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you

Doct. I have two nights watch'd with you, can perceive no truth in your report. When was

it she last walk'd!

Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

Doct. A great perturbation in nature! To receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching.—In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say?

Gent. That, S'r, which I will not report after her. Doct. You may, to me; and 'tis most meet you

should.

Gent. Neither to you, nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech.

Enter Lady MACBETH, with a Taper. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very gnise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand

close.

Dect. How came she by that light? Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually; 'tis her command.

Dort. You see, her eyes are open.
Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut.

Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she

rubs her hands.

Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seein The game after it is killed. ↑ All pause.

thas washing her hands; I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.

Lady M. Yet here's a spot.

Doct. Hark, she speaks, I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.

Lady M. Out, damn'd spot! Out, I say!-One; two; why, then 'tis time to do't:-Hell is murky⚫! -Fie, my lord, fie! A soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our powers to account?-Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

Doct. Do you mark that?

Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now?-What, will these hands ne'er be clean? -No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.

Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you

should not.

Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known. Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little haud. Oh! oh! oh!

Doct. What a sigh is there? The heart is sorely charged.

Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body. Doct. Well, well, well,

Gent. 'Pray God, it be, Sir.

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: yet I have known those which have walk'd in their sleep, who have died holly in their beds.

Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale:-I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave.

Doct. Even so?

Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gale. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand; what's done, cannot be undone :-To bed, to bed, to bed. (Exit Lady Macbeth. Doct. Will she go now to bed? Gent. Directly.

Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad :-Unnatural deeds

Do breed unnatural troubles :-Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the divine, than the physician.-
God, God, forgive us all! Look after her;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her :-So, good night:
My mind she has mated +, and amazed my sight:
I think, but dare not speak.

Gent. Good night, good doctor.

[Exeunt.

coming.

Ment. Who then shall blame His pester'd senses to recoil, and start, When all that is within him does condemn Itself, for being there :

Cath. Well, march we on,

To give obedience where 'tis truly owed:
Meet we the medecin of the sickly weal;
And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
Each drop of us.
Len. Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam.
[Exeunt marching.

SCENE III-Dunsinane.—A Room in the Castle.
Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and ATTENDANTS.
Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,

cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?

Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
Ail mortal consequents, pronounced me thus :
Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman,
Shall e'er have power on thee.-Then Ay, false
thanes,

And mingle with the English epicures:
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear.
Enter a SERVANT.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loun;!
Where got'st thou that goose look ?
Sere. There is ten thousand-
Macb. Geese, villain?
Serv. Soldiers, Sir.

Thou lily liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
Mucb. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Death of thy soul! Those linen cheeks of thine
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 cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
I have lived 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,
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare
Seyton!--

not.

How does your patient, doctor?

Doct. Not so sick, my lord,

ther?

Len. For, certain, Sir, he is not: 1 have a file Of all the gentry; there is Siward's son, And many unrough youths, that even now Protest their first of manhood.

Men. What does the tyrant?

Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies : Some say, he's ad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule.

Ang. Now does he feel

His secret murders sticking on his hands;
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
Those he cominands, move only in command,
Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.

That keep her from her rest.

Mach. Cure her of that:

Canst thon 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. Therem the patient
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 thaues fly from

me :

Come, Sir, despatch :-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,

Base fellow.

Seour.

• The physician. + Sink. An appellation of contempt. Dry.

Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, Profit again should hardly draw me here. [Exit. SCENE IV-Country near Dunsinane: a Wood in view.

Enter, with Drum and Colours, MALCOLM, Old S1WARD, 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.

Siw. What wood is this before us?
Ment. The wood of Birnam.

Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a bongh, And bear't before him, thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host, and make discovery 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.

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
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 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 SOLDIERS.

Macb. 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. What is that noise?
[A cry within of Women.
Sey. It is the cry of women, my good ford.
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 slaught'rous thoughts,
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 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.

Macb. Well, say, Sir.

Mes. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The wood began to move. Striking him.

Macb. Liar, and slave!

Mes. 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 thon 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 flend,
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 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 SI-
WARD, MACDUFF, &c., and their Army, with Boughs.
Mal. Now near enough; your leavy screens
throw down,

And shew 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 us what else remains to do,
According to our order.

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 breath,

Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.
[Exeunt.-Alarums continued.
SCENE VII.-The same.-Another part of the Plain.
Enter MACBETH.

Mach. 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?

Macb. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter

name

Than any is in hell.

Macb. My name's Macbeth.

Yo, Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title

More hateful to mine ear.

Macb. 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. 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, shew thy

face:

I shall report that which I say I saw,

But know not how to do it.

The noble thanes do bravely in the war; The day almost itself professes yours, And little is to do.