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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
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
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
Now does he feel
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,
Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam.
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?
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Enter a Servant.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon!
Ser. There is ten thousand
Geese, villain ?
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
When I behold-Seyton, I say!-This push
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:
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 !—
Come, sir, despatch:-If thou could'st, doctor, cast
And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
That should applaud again.-Pull't off, I say.-.
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,