Enter Seyton. Sey. What's your Gracious pleasure ? Macb. What News more? Sey. All is confirm'd, my Lord, which was reported. Macb. I'll fight, 'till from my Bones my Flesh is hackt. 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 fhe is troubled with thick-coming Fancies, Macb. Cure her from that: Canft thou not minister to a Mind diseas'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 Rubard, Senna, or what Purgative Drug, Would fcour these English hence: Hear'ft thou of them? Doct. Ay, my good Lord; Your Royal preparation Makes us hear fomething. Macb. Bring it after me; I will not be afraid of Death and Bane, Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away, and clear, Profit again fhould 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? 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. Mach. Hang out our Banners on the outward Walls, Were Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, Beard to Beard, Sey. It is the cry of Women, my good Lord. Signifying nothing. Enter a Meffenger. Thou com'ft to ufe thy Tongue: Thy ftory quickly. I fhould report that which I fay I faw, But know not how to do't. Macb. Well, fy, Sir. Mef. As I did ftand my Watch upon the Hill, 1 look'd toward Birnam, and anon methought The Wood began to move. Macb. Liar, and Slave. [Striking him. Mef. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not fo: Macb. If thou fpeak'ft falfe, Upon the next Tree shalt 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 Refolucion, and begin To doubt the Equivocation of the Fiend, That lies like truth. Fear not, 'till Birnam Wood And with th' eftate o'th' World were now undone. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Before Macbeth's Caftle. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduff, and their Army, with Boughs. Mal. Now near enough: your Leavy Screens throw down, And fhew like thofe you are: You (worthy Uncle) Shall with my Coufin, your right Noble Son, Lead our firft Battel. Worthy Macduff, and we Shall take upon's what else remains to do According to our order. Seyw. Fare you well: Do we but find the Tyrant's Power to Night, Macd. Make all our Trumpets fpeak, give them all breath, Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood and Death. [Exeunt. [Alarums continued. Enter Macbeth. Macb. They have ty'd me to a ftake, I cannot fy, But Bear-like I must fight the course. What's he That was not born of Woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none. Enter Young Seyward. Yo. Seyw. What is thy Name? Macb. Thoul't be afraid to hear it. To. Seyw. No: though thou call'ft thy felf a hotter Name Than any is in Hell. Macb. My Name's Macbeth. VOL. V. U To. Yo. Seyw. The Devil himself could not pronounce a Title More hateful to mine Ear. Macb. No, nor more fearful. To. Seyw. Thou lieft, thou abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. [Fight, and Young Seyward's flain. Mack. Thou waft born of Woman; But Swords I fmile at, Weapons laugh to fcorn, Alarums. Enter Macduff. [Exit. Macd. That way the noife is: Tyrant, fhew thy Face, I fheath again undeeded. There thou fhould't be [Exit. Alarums, Enter Malcolme and Seyward. Seyw. This was, my Lord, the Caftle's gently rendered: The Tyrant's People on both fides do fight, The noble Thanes do bravely in the War, The day almost it felf profeffes yours, And little is to do. Mal. We have met with Foes That ftrike befide us. Seyw. Enter, Sir, the Caftle. Enter Macbeth. [Exeunt. Alarum. Macb. Why fhould I play the Roman Fool, and die Enter Macduff. Macd. Turn Hell-hound, turn. Mach. Of all Men elfe I have avoided thee: But get thee back, my Soul is too much charg'd Macd. I have no words, My Voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villain Than terms can give thee out. [Fight. Alarum. Mach. |