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Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
To add the death of you.


Merciful heaven!—
What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak,
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
Macd. My children too?

That could be found.

My wife kill'd too?



Wife, children, servants, all

And I must be from thence!

I have said.

Be comforted:

Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.

Macd. He has no children.-All my pretty ones?
Did you say, all? All?

What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell swoop?

Mal. Dispute it like a man.

I shall do so;

But I must feel it as a man:

I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me.-Did heaven look on,
And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now!

Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.

Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue!-But gentle heaven,
Cut short all intermission; front to front,
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself;
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too!

This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above

Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may;
The night is long, that never finds the day.



The action changes to Dunsinane, where the English powers, led on by Young Malcolm, Siward, and Macduff, are joined by the loyal Scotch. The united forces march towards Dunsinane Castle to attack Macbeth.

SCENE III.-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. Then fly, false thanes,
And mingle with the English epicures:
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear.

Enter a Servant.

Thou cream-fac'd loon.

Where got'st thou that goose look ?
Serv. There is ten thousand-

Geese, villain?


Macb. 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 have liv'd long enough: my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf: And that which should accompany old age, As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, in their stead, Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not. Seyton!


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 armor.

Soldiers, sir.


Macb. I'll put it on.

Send out more horses, skirr the country round;
Hang those that talk of fear.-Give me mine armor,——
How does your patient, doctor?

"Tis not needed yet.


As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.

Not so sick, my lord,

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?


Therein the patient

Must minister to himself.


Mach. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.—
Come, put mine armor on; give me my staff:-
Seyton, send out.-Doctor, the thanes fly from me :-
Come, sir, dispatch :-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.——

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.


I will not be afraid of death and bane,
Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.

Bring it after me.—


Country near Dunsinane: A Wood in view.

Enter, with drums and colors, 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.
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
The numbers of our host, and make discovery
Err in report of us.


The wood of Birnam.

It shall be done.

Siw. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant
Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
Our setting down before't.


"Tis his main hope:
For where there is advantage to be given,
Both more and less have given him the revolt;
And none serve with him but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.


Let our just censures
Attend the true event, and put we on
Industrious soldiership.

The time approaches,
That will with due decison 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.

SCENE V.--Dunsinane. Within the Castle.

Enter, with drums and colors, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers. Macb. Hang out our banners on the cutward walls; The cry is still, They come: Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie, Till famine, and the ague, eat them up; Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home. What is that noise?

[Exeunt, marching.

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 cool'd To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir

[A cry within, of women.

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,
Signifying nothing.

I shall report that which I say I saw,

But know not how to do it.

Enter a Messenger.

Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Mess. Gracious my lord,


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!

Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if 't be not so;
Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.

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 wood
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 harness on our back.

[Striking him.


Macbeth leads his followers to the Battle, which terminates in the defeat of the Usurper, who is slain by Macduff, and Malcolm is declared King of Scotland.

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