Ang, Near Birnam-wood

Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming,

Cath. Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother

Len. For certain, Sir, he is not: I have a file

Of all the gentry; there is Seyward's fon

1

And many unrough youths, that even now
Proteft their firft of manhood,

Ment. What does the Tyrant?

Cath. Great Dunfinane he ftrongly fortifies;
Some fay he 's mad; others, that leffer hate him,
Do call it valiant fury; but, for certain,

He cannot buckle his diftemper'd cause
Within the belt of rule.

Ang, Now does he feel

His fecret murthers fticking on his hands;
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
Those he commands move only in command,
Nothing in love; now does he feel his title

Hang loofe about him, like a giant's robę
Upon a dwarfish thief.

Ment. Who then fhall blame

His pefter'd fenfes to recoil, and start,
When all that is within him does condemn

Itfelf, for being there?

Cath. Well, march we on,

To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd.

n

Meet we the ined'cine of the fickly weal

The two first fo's, unruffe; the two la and R. unruff; P. unruff'd. T. explains unrough by unbearded.

m The two jaft fols, bates for bate, n W. fays we fhould read medicin, i. e. phyfician.

And

1

And with him pour we, in our country's purge,

Each drop of us.

Len. Or fo much as it needs,

To dew the fovereign flower, and drown the weeds:

Make we our march towards Birnam. [Exeunt marching.

SCENE III.

The Caftle of Dunfinane.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.

Mach. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all; 'Till Birnam-wood remove to Dunfinane,

I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy, Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The fpirits, that know
All mortal confequences, have pronounc'd me thus;
Fear not, Macbeth; no man that 's born of woman

Shall e'er have power upon thee.-Then fly, falfe Thanes And mingle with the English epicures.

The mind I fway by, and the heart I bear,

Shall never fag with doubt, nor shake with fear.

Enter a Servant.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon!
Where got'ft thou that goose-look?

• T.'s octavo reads me for we; his duodecimo, W. and J. up for we.

All but fo's and C. omit marching. ¶ No description in fo's, C. A room in the cafle,

r P. and all after omit The.

s P. and all after, it for me thus; except C. who reads me, omitting thus. The laft f. and all after, except C. lorun for loon.

H 4

Ser.

Ser. There are ten thoufand

Mach. Geefe, villain?

Ser. Soldiers, Sir.

Matb. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver'd boy. What foldiers, patch?
Death of thy foul! those linen cheeks of thine

Are counsellors to fear. What foldiers, w whey-face?
Ser. The English force, fo please you.”

at

Macb. Take thy face hence.-Seyton!-I am fick åt heart,

X

y

When I behold-Seyton, I fay!-This push
Will chear me ever, or disease me now,
I have liv'd long enough: my way of life
Is fall'n into the fear, the yellow leaf:
And that which fhould accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,

I must not look to have; but in their ftead,
Curfes not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not,
Seyton!-

Enter Seyton.

Sey. What's your gracious pleasure?

Macb. What news more?

Sey. All is confirm'd, my Lord, which was reported.

Fo's and C. is for are.

The fo's and R. whay-face. x The firft f. dif-cate for diferfe. Shakespeare might write disseat.

y Aņ Anonymus would have it—my

May of life. Way is used for courfe, progress. W.

The Anonymus appears to be F.. z R. P, and H. amit Seyton!

Μας,

Mach. I'll fight 'till from my bones my flesh be hackt;

Send out more horfes, fkirre the country round;

Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.
How does your patient, Doctor?

Do&. Not fo fick, my Lord,

As fhe is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her reft.

Mach. Cure her of that.

Canft thou not minifter to a mind difeas'd,
Pluck from the memory a rooted forrow,

Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And, with fome fweet oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuft bofom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart?

Doct. Therein the patient
Muft minifter i to himself.

Mach. Throw phyfic 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, difpatch-If thou couldft, 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, fenna, or what purgative drug,
Would fcour these English hence? Hear'ft " thou of them?
Doct. 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 foreft come to Dunsinane.

Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,

Profit again fhould hardly draw me here.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Birnam wood.

• Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolm, Seyward, Macduff, Seyward's Son, Menteth, Cathnefs, Angus, and Soldiers marching.

Mal. Coufins, I hope the days are near at hand,

That chambers will be fafe.

Ment. We doubt it nothing.

Sey. What wood is this before us?