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 that noise? [A cry within, of women.

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 ^{4 note}

Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir
As life were in't: ^{5 note}

Sey.
The queen, my lord, is dead.

Macb.
^{6 note}

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
^{7 note}

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an ideot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.— Enter a Messenger.
Thou com'st to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

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

Macb.
Well, say, 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.

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,
^{9 note}