Enter Seyton.

Sey. What's 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 is hackt. Give me my Armour.

Sey. 'Tis not needed yet.

Macb. I'll put it on:

Send out more Horfes, skir the Country round,
Hang thofe that ftand in fear. Give me mine Armour.
How do's your patient, Doctor?

Doct. Not fo fick, my Lord,

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

Macb. Cure her from that:

Canft thou not minister to a Mind diseas'd,
Pluck from the Memory a rooted Sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the Brain,
And with fome fweet oblivious Anntidote,
Cleanse the stuft Bofome of that perillous stuff,
Which weighs upon the Heart?

Doct. Therein the Patient

Muft minifter unto himself.

Mach. Throw Phyfick to the Dogs, I'll none of it.
Come, put my Armour on, give me my Staff.
Seyton, fend out-Doctor, the Thanes fly from me-
Come, Sir, difpatch-If thou could'ft, Doctor, cast
The water of my Land, find her Difeafe,

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 fay

What Rubard, Senna, 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.

Macb. Bring it after me;

I will not be afraid of Death and Bane,
'Till Birnam Foreft come to Dunfinane.

Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away, and clear,

Profit again fhould hardly draw me here.

[Exeunt. SCENE

SCENE IV. A Wood.

Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduff, Seyward's Son, Menteth, Cathnefs, Angus, and Soldiers marching.

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

That Chambers will be fafe.

Ment. We doubt it nothing.

Seyw. 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 fhall we fhadow
The numbers of our Hoft, and make discov'ry
Err in report of us.

Sold. It fhall be done.

Seyw. We learn no other, but the confident Tyrant,
Keeps ftill in Dunfinane, and will endure
Our fetting down before't.

Mal. 'Tis his main hope:

For where there is advantage to be given,
Both more and lefs have given him the Revolt,
And none ferve with him, but constrained things,
Whose Hearts are abfent too.

Macd. Set our beft Cenfures
Before the true event, and put we on
Induftious Soldiership.

Seyw. The time approaches,

That will with due decifion make us know
What we shall fay we have, and what we owe:
Thoughts fpeculative, their unfure hopes relate,
But certain iffue, strokes must arbitrate,
Towards which, advance the War.

[Exeunt marching.

SCENE V.
V. The Caftle.

Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers with Drums and Colours.

Mach. Hang out our Banners on the outward Walls,
The Cry is ftill, they come: Our Caftle's ftrength
Will laugh a Siege to fcorn. Here let them lye,
'Till Famine and the Ague eat them up:

Were

Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours,

We might have met them dareful,
And beat them backward home.

Beard to Beard,
What is that noife?
[A cry within of Women.

Sey. It is the cry of Women, my good Lord.
Mack. I have almost forgot the tafte of Fears:
The Time has been, my Senfes would have cool'd
To hear a Night-fhriek, and my Fell of Hair
Would at a difmal Treatife rouze, and ftir
As Life were in't. I have fupt full with horrors,
Direnefs familiar to my flaughterous Thoughts
Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry?
Sey. The Queen (my Lord) is dead.
Macb. She should have dy'd hereafter;
There would have been a time for fuch a word,
To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the laft Syllable of Recorded time:
And all our yesterdays have lighted Fools
The way to study death. Out, out, brief Candle,
Life's but a walking Shadow, a poor Player,
That ftruts and frets his hour upon the Stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a Tale
Told by an Idoet, full of found and fury

Signifying nothing.

Enter a Meffenger.

Thou com'ft to ufe thy Tongue: Thy ftory quickly.
Mef. My Gracious Lord,

I fhould report that which I fay I faw,

But know not how to do't.

Macb. Well, fy, Sir.

Mef. As I did ftand my Watch upon the Hill, 1 look'd toward Birnam, and anon methought

The Wood began to move.

Macb. Liar, and Slave.

[Striking him.

Mef. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not fo:
Within this three mile you may fee it coming.
I fay, a moving Grove.

Macb. If thou fpeak'ft falfe,

Upon the next Tree shalt thou hang alive

Till Famine cling thee: If thy Speech be footh,

I care not if thou do'ft for me as much.

I pull in Refolucion, 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 do's appear,
There is no flying hence, nor tarrying here;
I 'gin to be a weary of the Sun,

And with th' eftate o'th' World were now undone.
Ring the alarum Bell, blow Wind, come wrack,
At leaft we'll die with harness on our back.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. Before Macbeth's Caftle.

Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduff, and their Army, with Boughs.

Mal. Now near enough: your Leavy Screens throw down, And fhew like thofe you are: You (worthy Uncle) Shall with my Coufin, your right Noble Son, Lead our firft Battel. Worthy Macduff, and we Shall take upon's what else remains to do According to our order.

Seyw. 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 fpeak, give them all breath, Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood and Death. [Exeunt. [Alarums continued.

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. They have ty'd me to a ftake, I cannot fy, 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 Seyward.

Yo. Seyw. What is thy Name?

Macb. Thoul't be afraid to hear it.

To. Seyw. No: though thou call'ft thy felf a hotter Name Than any is in Hell.

Macb. My Name's Macbeth.

VOL. V.

U

To.

Yo. Seyw. The Devil himself could not pronounce a Title More hateful to mine Ear.

Macb. No, nor more fearful.

To. Seyw. Thou lieft, thou abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

[Fight, and Young Seyward's flain.

Mack. Thou waft born of Woman;

But Swords I fmile at, Weapons laugh to fcorn,
Brandish'd by Man that's of a Woman born.

Alarums. Enter Macduff.

[Exit.

Macd. That way the noife is: Tyrant, fhew thy Face,
If thou be'ft flain, and with no ftroke of mine,
My Wife and Childrens Ghofts will haunt me ftill:
I cannot ftrike at wretched Kernes, whofe arms
Are hir'd to bear their Staves; either thou, Macbeth,
Or else my Sword with an unbatter'd edge

I fheath again undeeded. There thou fhould't be
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited. Let me find him, Fortune,
And more I beg not.

[Exit. Alarums, Enter Malcolme and Seyward.

Seyw. This was, my Lord, the Caftle's gently rendered: The Tyrant's People on both fides do fight,

The noble Thanes do bravely in the War,

The day almost it felf profeffes yours,

And little is to do.

Mal. We have met with Foes

That ftrike befide us.

Seyw. Enter, Sir, the Caftle.

Enter Macbeth.

[Exeunt. Alarum.

Macb. Why fhould I play the Roman Fool, and die
On mine own Sword? whilft I fee lives, the gashes
Do better upon them.

Enter Macduff.

Macd. Turn Hell-hound, turn.

Mach. Of all Men elfe I have avoided thee:

But get thee back, my Soul is too much charg'd
With Blood of thine already.

Macd. I have no words,

My Voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villain

Than terms can give thee out.

[Fight.

Alarum.

Mach.