And with him pour we, in our Country's purge, Len. Or fo much as it needs, To dew the Sovereign Flower, and drown the Weeds. SCENE III. The Caftle. Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants. [Exeunt. Macb. Bring me no more Reports, let them fly all: 'Till Birnam Wood remove to Dunfinane, I cannot taint with fear. What's the Boy, Malcolme? The mind I fway by, and the heart I bear, Shall never fag with doubt, nor fhake with fear. Enter a Servant. The Devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd Lown: Ser. There are ten thoufand Mach. Geefe, Villain? Ser. Soldiers, Sir. Mach. Go, prick thy Face, and over-red thy fear, Thou Lilly-liver'd Boy. What Soldiers, Patch? Death of thy Soul, thofe Linnen Cheeks of thine Are Counsellours to fear. What Soldiers, Whay-face? Ser. The English Force, fo please you. Macb. Take thy Face hence----Seyton! ----I'm fick at heart, When I behold-Seyton, I fay! this push Will cheer me ever, or disease me now. I have liv'd long enough: My way of Life Is fall'n into the Sear, 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. Enter Enter Seyton. Sey. What's your Gracious pleasure ? Mach. What News more? Sey. All is confirm'd, my Lord, which was reported. Macb. I'll fight, 'till from my Bones my Flesh is hacktà Give me my Armour. Sey. 'Tis not needed yet. Macb. I'll put it on: Send out more Horfes, skir the Country round, Doct. Not fo fick, my Lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming Fancies, Macb. Cure her from that: Canft thou not minifter to a Mind difeas'd, Doct. Therein the Patient Muft minifter unto himself. Mach. Throw Phyfick to the Dogs, I'll none of it. And purge it to a found and priftine Health, That should applaud again. Pull't off, I fay What Rubarb, Senna, or what Purgative Drug, Would scour 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 should 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, Sold. It fhall be done. Seyw. We learn no other, but the confident Tyrant, Mal. 'Tis his main hope: For where there is advantage to be given, Macd. Set our beft Cenfures Seyw. The time approaches, That will with due decifion make us know [Exeunt marching SCENE V. Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers with Drums and Colours. Macb. Hang out our Banners on the outward Walls, Were Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, [A cry within of Women. Sey. It is the cry of Women, my good Lord. Enter a Messenger. Thou com'ft to use thy Tongue: thy ftory quickly. I fhould report that which I fay I faw, But know not how to do't. Mach. Well, fay, Sir. I look'd toward Birnam, and anon methought Mef. As I did ftand Watch upon my the Hill, [Striking him. The Wood began to move. Macb. Liar, and Slave. Mef. Let me endure your wrath, ift be not fo Within this three mile you may fee it coming. I fav, a moving Grove. Macb. If thou fpeak'st false, Upon the next Tree fhalt 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 Refolution, and begin To doubt the Equivocation of the Fiend, That lies like truth. Fear not, 'till Birnam Wood And wish th' eftate o' th' World were now undone. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Before Macbeth's Caftle. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduff, and their Army, Mal. Now near enough: your Leavy Screens throw down, Lead our firft Battel. Worthy Macduff, and we 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. Enter Macbeth. [Exeunt. Alarums continued. Macb. They have ty'd me to a ftake, I cannot fly, But Bear-like I must fight the courfe. What's he That was not born of Woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none. Enter Young Seyward. To. Seyw. What is thy Name? Mach. Thoul't be afraid to hear it. Yo. Seyw. No: though thou call'ft thy felf a hotter Name Than any is in Hell. Mach. My Name's Macbeth. VOL, V. U To. |