Doct. What is it she does now? Look how she | Would, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm, rubs her hands. Excite the mortified man.

Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands; I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.

Lady M. Yet here's a spot.

Doct. Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.

Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; Where is she now? — What, will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o'that, my lord, no more o'that: you mar all with this starting

Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.

Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known.

Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh!

Ang.

Near Birnam wood

Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.

Cath. Who, knows, if Donalbain be with his

brother?

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.

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.
Ment.
Who then shall blame
His pester'd senses to recoil, and start,
When all that is within him does condemn
Itself, for being there?
Cath.

Well, march we on, To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd: Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely Meet we the medicin of the sickly weal: charged.

Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body.

Doct. Well, well, well,

Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir.

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds.

Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale. I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave.

Doct. Even so?

Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at
the gate.
Come, come, come, come, give me your
hand; What's done, cannot be undone; To bed,
to bed, to bed,
[Erit Lady MACBETH.

Doct. Will she go now to bed?
Gent. Directly.

Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural
deeds

Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the divine, than the physician.
God, God, forgive us all! Look after her;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her : So, good night:
My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight:
I think, but dare not speak.
Gent.

Good night, good doctor.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.
Enter, with drum and colours, MENTETH, CATH-
NESS, ANGUS, LENOX, and Soldiers.

The Country near Dunsinane.

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

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

Len.
Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam.

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 :
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 ?

Serv. There is ten thousand

Macb.

Serv.

Geese, villain?
Soldiers, sir.
Mach. 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. 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 tau'n into the sear, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends.

Doct.

Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.

Cure her of that:

Macb.
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?

Doct.

Must minister to himself.

Enter, with drums and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.

Macb. Hang out our banners on the outward
walls;

The cry is stil. They com: Our castie's strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: her let them lie,
Till famine, and the gue, eat them up.

Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
Therein the patient And beat them backward nome What is that
[A ory within, of women.

noise?

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
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.

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

I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.

Macb.

Well, say, sir. Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the " I look toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The wood began to move.

Macb.

Liar, and slave!

[Striking him.

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.
Macb.
If thou speak'st false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,

Siw. Then he is dead?

Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field: cause of sorrow

Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then

It hath no end.

Siw

Had he his hurts before?

Rosse. Ay, on the front.
Siw.

your

time,

Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you. My thanes and
kinsmen,

Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do,

Why, then, God's soldier be he! Which would be planted newly with the time,

Had I as many sons as I have hairs,

I would not wish them to a fairer death:

And so his knell is knoll'd.

As calling home our exil'd friends abroad,
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
Producing forth the cruel ministers

Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen :
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life; This, and what needful else
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
We will perform in measure, time, and place:
So thanks to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.
[Flourish. Ereun!