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All mortal consequents, pronounced me thus
Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman,
Shall e'er have power on 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. Geese, villain?
Serv. Soldiers, Sir.
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.
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 bave 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, bút dare not.
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 back’d. Give me my armour.
Sey. 'Tis not needed yet.
Macb. I'll put it on.
Send out more horses, skirrs 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?
Scour. VOL. II.
Doct. Therein 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 thanes 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,
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 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.
[Exit. Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, Profit again should hardly draw me here.
[Erit. SCENE IV.-Country near Dunsinane : A Wood in view. Enter, with Drum and Colours, 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.
Siw. What wood is this before us?
Ment. 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 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 befort.
Mal. 'Tis his main hope:
For where there is advantage to be given,
Both more and lesst 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
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.
Mact. Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is stils, They come : Qur 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 ?
[ 4 cry within, of Women.
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 coold
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,
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,
I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The wood began to move.
Macb. Liar, and slave!
[Striking him. Mess. Let me endure your wrath, ift be not so: Within this three mile may you see it coming ; I say, a moving grove. * Determine.
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 roooil
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 harnesst on our back.
SCENE VI.-The same. A plain before the Castle. Enter, with Drums and Colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD,
MACDUFF, &c., and their Army, with Boughs.
Mal. Now near enough; your leavy 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 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 ys 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.
Macb. 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.
[E.rit. Alarums. Enter MACDUFF. 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 ghost will haunt me still. I cannot strike at wretched kernes,* 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; By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited :f Let me find him, fortune! And more I beg not.
Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD.
Sir. This way, my lord;—The castle 's gently renderd:
The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;
The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
The day almost itself professes yours,
And little is to do.
Mal. We have met with foes
That strike beside us.
Siw. Enter, Sir, the castle.
Macb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
Do better upon them.
Re-enter MACDUFF. Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn.
Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee:
But get thee back, my soul is too much charged
With blood of thinè already.
Macd. I have no words,
My voice is in my sword; thou bloodier villain
Than terms can give thee out!
Macb. Thou losest labour:
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
I bear a charmed life, which must not yield
To one of woman born.