Doct.

I have two nights watch'd with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walk'd?

Gent.

Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

Doct.

A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances, what (at any time) have you heard her say?

Gent.

That, sir, which I will not report after her.

Doct.

You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should.

Gent.

Neither to you, nor any one, having no witness to confirm my speech.

Lo, you! here she comes: this is her very guise, and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.

Doct.

How came she by that light?

Gent.

Why it stood by her: she has light by her continually, 'tis her command.

Doct.

You see her eyes are open.

Gent.

Ay, but their sense is shut.

Doct.

What is it she does now? look how she rubs her hands.

Gent.

It is an accustom'd action with her to seem thus washing her hands: I have known her continue in this, a quarter of an hour.

Lady.

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.

Out! damned spot; out, I say—one, two: why then 'tis time to do't—hell is murky. Fy, my lord, fy, a soldier and afraid! what need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?— yet who could have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?* ^note

Doct.

Do you mark that?

Lady.

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 marr 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.

Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh!† ^note

Doct.

What a sigh is there? the heart is sorely charg'd.

Gent.

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

Doct.

Well, well, well—

Gent.

Pray Heav'n it be, sir.

Lady.

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

Doct.

Even so?

Lady.

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.

Doct.

Will she go now to bed?

Gent.

Directly.

Doct.
Foul whisperings are abroad; unnatural deeds
Do breed unnat'ral troubles. Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the divine, than the physician.
Good Heav'n, forgive us all! look after her;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night.
I think, but dare not speak.

Gent.
Good-night, good doctor.* ^note [Exeunt. Scene SCENE the Castle of Dunsinane. 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? Then fly, false Thanes,
And mingle with the English epicures.
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never sag with doubt, nor shake with fear. Enter a Servant.
Thou cream-fac'd loon!
Where got'st thou that goose-look?

Ser.
There are ten thousand—

Macb.
Geese, villain?

Ser.
Soldiers, sir.

Macb.
Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, whey-face?

Ser.
The English force, so please you.

Macb.
Take thy face hence—Seyton!—I'm sick at heart,
When I behold— Seyton, I say!—this push
Will cheer me ever, or disease me now.
I have liv'd long enough; my May of life
Is fall'n into the fear, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have: but in their stead,
Curses not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.* ^note
Seyton!— Enter Seyton.

Sey.
What is 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 be hack'd.
Give me my armour.

Sey.
'Tis not needed yet.

Macb.
I'll put it on.
Send out more horses, skirre the country round;
Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour. Enter Doctor.
How does your patient, doctor?

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

Macb.
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 full bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?* ^note

Doct.
Therein the patient
Must minister unto himself.

Macb.
Throw physick to the dogs, I'll none of it—
Come, put my armour 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. Pull't off, I say—
What rhubard, senna, or what purgative drug,
Would scour these English hence! hear'st thou of them?

Doct.
Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
Makes us hear something.

Macb.
Bring it after me;
I will not be afraid of death and bane,
'Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. [Exeunt. Scene SCENE changes to Birnam wood. Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, Siward's Son, Lenox, Angus, and Soldiers marching.

Mal.
Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand,
That chambers will be safe.

Lenox.
We doubt it nothing.

Siw.
What wood is this before us?

Lenox.
The wood of Birnam.

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 discov'ry
Err in report of us. [Exeunt Soldiers.

Siw.
We learn no other, but the confident tyrant
Keeps still in Dunsinane, and wil endure

Our sitting down before't.

Mal.
'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.

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

Siw.
The time approaches,
That will with due decision 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.

Mal.
Towards which advance the war.† ^note [Exeunt. Scene SCENE changes to the Castle of Dunsinane. Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Officers.

Macb.
Hang out our banners on the outward 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 this noise? [A cry within of women.

Sey.
It is the cry of women, my good lord. [Exit.

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 sup'd full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry?

Enter Seyton.

Sey.
The queen, my lord, is dead.

Macb.
She should have dy'd hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow and to-morrow, and to-morrow,* ^note
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.

Mes.
My gracious lord,
I should report that which, I say, I saw,
But know not how to do't.

Macb.
Well, say it, sir.

Mes.
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! [Striking him.† ^note

Mes.
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,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.
I pull in resolution, and begin
To doubt th' 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 state o' th' world were now undone.
Ring the alarum bell, blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back. [Exeunt. Scene SCENE before Dunsinane. Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, and their Army, with boughs.

Mal.
Now, near enough; your leafy screens throw down,
And shew like those you are. You worthy uncle,
Shall with my cousin, your right-noble son,
Lead our first battle. Brave Macduff and we
Shall take upon's what else remains to do,
According to our order.

Siw.
Fare you well:
Do we but find the tyrant's power, to-night,
Let us be beaten, if we cannot sight.

Macd.
Make all your trumpets speak, give them all breath,
Those clam'rous harbingers of blood and death. [Ex. [Alarums continued. Scene SCENE changes, and a grand battle is fought across the Stage. Enter Macbeth.

Macb.
They've ty'd me to a stake; I cannot fly,
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 Siward.

Yo. Siw.
What is thy name?

Macb.
Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

Yo. Siw.
No—though thou call'st thyself a hotter name,
Than any is in hell.

Macb.
My name's Macbeth.

Yo. Siw.
The devil himself could not pronounce a title,
More hateful to mine ear.

Macb.
No, nor more fearful.

Yo. Siw.
Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
I'll prove the lie thou speakest. [Fight, and young Siward's slain.

Macb.
Thou wast born of woman—I'm sure. [Exit. Alarums. Enter Macduff.

Macd.
That way the noise is. Tyrant, shew thy face;
If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine,
My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
I cannot strike at wretched Kernes,
Let me find him, fortune! [Exit. Alarum. Enter Malcom and Siward.

Siw.
This way, my lord, the castle's gently render'd:
The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;
The noble Thanes do bravely in the war,
The day almost professes itself yours,
And little is to do.

Mal.
We've met with foes
That strike beside us.

Siw.
Enter, sir, the castle. [Exeunt. Alarum. Enter Macbeth.

Macb,
Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
On mine own sword? whilst I see lives, the gashes
Do better upon them.

To him enter Macduff.

Macd.
Turn, hell-hound, turn.

Macb.
Of all men else I have avoided thee:
But get thee back; my soul is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already.

Macd.
I've no words:
My voice is in my sword! thou bloodier villain,
Than terms can give thee out. [Fight. Alarum.

Macb.
Thou losest labour;
As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests,
I bear a charmed life, which must nor yield
To one of woman born.

Macd.
Despair thy charm!
And let the angel, whom thou still hath serv'd,
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripp'd.† ^note

Macb.
Accursed be that tongue, that tells me so!
For it hath cow'd my better part of man:
And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd,
That palter with us in a double sense;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope! I'll not fight with thee.

Macd.
Then yield thee, coward,
And live to be the shew, and gaze o' th' time;
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole, and under writ,
“Here may you see the tyrant.”

Macb.
I will not yield,
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou, oppos'd, be of no woman born,
Yet I will try the last. Lay on, Macduff;
And damn'd be he that first cries, hold, enough. [They fight.

Macd.
This for my royal master Duncan;
This for my bosom friend, my wife; and this for
The pledges of her love and mine, my children. [Macbeth falls.
Sure there are remains to conquer—I'll
As a trophy bear away his sword, to
Witness my revenge. [Exit Macduff. Macb.
'Tis done! the scene of life will quickly close.
Ambition's vain, delusive dreams are fled,
And now I wake to darkness, guilt and horror;
I cannot bear it! let me shake it off—
'I wo' not be; my soul is clogg'd with blood—
I cannot rise! I dare not ask for mercy—
It is too late, hell drags me down; I sink,
I sink—Oh!—my soul is lost for ever!
Oh! [Dies.* ^note Retreat and flourish. Enter Malcolm, Siward, Rosse, Thanes and Soldiers.

Mal.
I would the friends we miss were safe arriv'd.

Siw.
Some must go off: and yet by these I see
So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

Mal.
Macduff is missing, and your noble son.

Rosse.
Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt;
He only liv'd but till he was a man,
The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd,
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he dy'd.

Siw.
Then is he dead?

Rosse.
Ay, and brought off the field. Your 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.
Why then, Heav'n's soldier be he!
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.

Mal.
He's worth more sorrow,
And that I'll spend for him.

Siw.
He's worth no more:
Here comes newer comfort. Enter Macduff.

Macd.
Hail, king! for so thou art. The time is free—
The tyrant's dead; and though I should not boast
That one whom guilt might easily weigh down,
Fell by my hand, yet I present you with his sword,
To shew that Heav'n appointed me to take revenge,
For you, and all that suffer'd by his cruel power,
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's peers,
That speak my salutation in their minds
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine
Hail, king of Scotland! [A flourish.

All.
Hail, king of Scotland! [Flourish.

Mal.
We shall not spend a large expence of time,
Before we reckon with your sev'ral loves,
And make us even with you. Thanes and kinsmen,
Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do
Which would be planted newly with the time,
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 Heav'n,
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.† ^note

^note

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