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My mind she has mated 58, and amaz'd my sight:

I think, but dare not speak.


Good night, good doctor.



The Country near Dunsinane.

Enter, with Drum and Colours, MENTETH, CATHNESS, ANGUS, LENOX, and Soldiers.

Ment. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,

His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff.

Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes
Would, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm,
Excite the mortified man.


Shall we well meet them;

Near Birnam wood

that way are they coming.

Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his bro


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

Of all the gentry; there is Siward's son,

And many unrough youths, that even now
Protest their first of manhood.


What does the tyrant?

Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies : Some say, he's mad; 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.


Now does he feel
His secret murders sticking 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 loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.


Who then shall blame

His pester'd senses to recoil, and start,

When all that is within him does condemn

Itself, for being there?


Well, march we on,

To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd:

Meet we the medecin of the sickly weal;

And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
Each drop of us.


Or so much as it needs,

To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam.

[Exeunt marching.


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,

I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
All mortal consequents, pronounc'd 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 59:

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-fac'd loon!
Where got'st thou that goose look ?

Ser. There is ten thousand



Geese, villain ?

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 60. What soldiers, whey-face! Ser. 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 liv'd long enough: my way of life
Is fall'n into the sear 61, 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.



Sey. What is your gracious pleasure ?


What news more?

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.


Macb. I'll put it on.

'Tis not needed yet.

Send out more horses, skirr the country round 62

Hang those that talk of fear.-Give me mine armour.

How does your patient, doctor?


Not so sick, my lord,

As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,

That keep her from her rest.

Cure her of that:

Canst 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 some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?


Must minister to himself,

Therein the patient

Mach. Throw physick 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 !—

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Come, sir, despatch:-If thou could'st, 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


Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Makes us hear something.


Bring it after me.

I will not be afraid of death and bane,

Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.


Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,

Profit again should hardly draw me here.



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.


We doubt it nothing.

The wood of Birnam.

Siw. What wood is this before us?

Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a bough,
And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow

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