Doct.

I have two ^note nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?

Gent.

Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon 't, 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 slumbery 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 ^note 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.

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 ^note shut.

Doct.

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

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 ^notefrom her, to satisfy ^note my remembrance the more strongly.

Lady M.

Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do 't. Hell is murky. ^note Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard ^note? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? ^note Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? ^note

Doct.

Do you mark that?

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 ^note starting.

Doct.

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

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 ^note still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh!

Doct.

What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.

Gent.

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

Doct.

Well, well, well,— ^note

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 ^note 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 ^note buried; he cannot come out on 's ^note 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.

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 ^note 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 ^note mated and amazed my sight:
I think, but dare not speak.

Gent.
Good night, good doctor. [Exeunt. ^note Scene II. The country ^note near Dunsinane. Drum and colours. Enter Menteith, Caithness, ^note Angus, Lennox, and ^note Soldiers.

Ment.
The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,
His uncle Siward ^note and the good Macduff:

Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes ^note
Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm ^note
Excite the mortified ^note man. ^note

Ang.
Near Birnam wood
Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.

Caith.
Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?

Len.
For certain, sir, he is not: I have ^note a file
Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son,
And many unrough ^note youths, that even now
Protest their first of manhood.

Ment.
What does the tyrant? ^note

Caith.
Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
Some say he's mad; others, that lesser hate ^note him,
Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause ^note
Within the belt of rule.

Ang.
Now does he feel
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? ^note

Caith.
Well, march we on,
To give obedience where 'tis truly owed:
Meet we the medicine ^note of the sickly weal,

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 ^note our march towards Birnam ^note. [Exeunt, marching. ^note Scene III. Dunsinane. A room in the castle. ^note Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.

Macb.
Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
Till Birnam ^note wood remove to Dunsinane
I cannot taint ^note with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The spirits ^note that know
All mortal consequences have ^note pronounced me thus ^note:
‘Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman
Shall e'er have power upon ^note thee.’ Then fly ^note, false thanes,
And mingle with the English epicures:
The mind I sway ^note by and the heart I bear
Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. Enter a Servant. ^note
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon ^note!
Where got'st thou that goose ^note look?

Serv.
There is ^note ten thousand— ^note

Macb.
Geese, villain?

Serv.
Soldiers, sir.

Macb.
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 ^note?

Serv.
The English force, so please you.

Macb.
Take thy face hence. [Exit Servant. ^note
Seyton!—I am ^note sick at heart,
When I behold—Seyton, I say!— ^noteThis push
Will cheer ^note me ever, or disseat ^note me now.
I have lived long enough: my way ^note of ^note life
Is fall'n into the sear, 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 ^note not.
Seyton! ^note Enter Seyton.

Sey.
What's ^note 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 ^note hack'd.
Give me my armour.

Sey.
'Tis not needed yet.

Macb.
I'll put it on.
Send out moe ^note horses, skirr ^note the country round;
Hang those that talk of ^note fear. Give me mine armour.
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 ^note of ^note that.
Canst thou not ^note minister to a mind ^note diseased,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
Raze ^note out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuff'd ^note bosom of that perilous stuff ^{note note}
Which weighs upon the heart?

Doct.
Therein the patient
Must minister to ^note himself.

Macb.
Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.
Come, put mine ^note armour on; give me my staff.
Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.
Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast
The water of my land, find her disease
And purge it to a sound and pristine ^note health,
I would applaud thee to the very echo,
That should applaud again. Pull't off, I say.
What rhubarb, cyme ^note, 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 ^note
Till Birnam ^note forest come to Dunsinane.

Doct. [Aside ^note]
Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
Profit again should hardly draw me here. [Exeunt. ^note

Scene IV. Country ^note near Birnam wood. Drum and colours. ^note Enter ^note Malcolm, old Siward and his Son, Macduff, Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, Ross, and Soldiers, marching.

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

Ment.
We doubt it nothing.

Siw.
What wood is this before us?

Ment.
The wood of Birnam ^note.

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 discovery
Err in report of us.

Soldiers.
It shall be done.

Siw.
We learn no other but the confident ^note tyrant
Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
Our setting down before 't.

Mal.
'Tis his main hope:
For where there is advantage to be given ^note,
Both more and less have given ^note him the revolt,
And none serve with him but constrained things
Whose hearts are absent too.

Macd.
Let our just censures

Attend ^note 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:
Towards which advance the war. [Exeunt, marching. Scene V. Dunsinane. Within ^note the castle. Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers, with drum and colours. ^note

Macb.
Hang out our banners on the outward walls; ^note
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 forced ^note with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home. [A cry ^note of women within.
What is that noise?

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

Macb.
I have almost forgot the taste of fears:
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd ^note
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 ^note with horrors;

Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once ^note start me. Re-enter Seyton. ^note
Wherefore was that cry?

Sey.
The queen, my lord ^note, is dead.

Macb.
She should have died hereafter;
There ^note would have been a time for such a word. ^note
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps ^note in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools ^note
The way to dusty ^note 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: ^note it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing. Enter a Messenger.
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

Mess.
Gracious my ^note lord,
I should report that which I say ^note I saw,
But know not how to do it ^note.

Macb.
Well, say ^note, sir.

Mess.
As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I look'd toward Birnam ^note, and anon, methought, ^note
The wood began to move.

Macb.
Liar and slave!

Mess.
Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
Within this three mile may you ^note see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.

Macb.
If thou speak'st false,
Upon the next tree shalt ^note thou hang alive,
Till famine cling ^note thee: if thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.
I pull ^note in resolution, and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
That lies like truth: ‘Fear not, till Birnam ^note wood
Do come to Dunsinane;’ and now a wood
Comes toward ^note Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
If this which he avouches does appear,
There is nor flying ^note hence nor tarrying here.
I 'gin to be a-weary ^note of the sun,
And wish the estate ^note o' the world were now undone. ^note
Ring the alarum-bell ^note! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back. [Exeunt. Scene VI. Dunsinane. Before ^note the castle. Drum and colours. ^note Enter Malcolm, old Siward ^note, Macduff, and their Army, with boughs.

Mal.
Now near enough; your leavy ^note screens throw down, ^note
And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle,

Shall, with my cousin, your right noble son,
Lead our first battle: worthy ^note Macduff and we
Shall take upon 's ^note what else remains to do,
According to our order.

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

Macd.
Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,
Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. [Exeunt. ^{note note} Scene VII. [Footnote: Another ^note part of the field. Alarums. ^note Enter Macbeth.

Macb.
They have ^note tied 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. ^note

Yo. Siw.
What is thy name?

Macb.
Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

Yo. Siw.
No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter ^note 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 ^note tyrant; with my sword
I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. [They fight ^note, and young Siward is slain.

Macb.
Thou wast born of woman.
But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. [Exit. Alarums. Enter Macduff.

Macd.
That way the noise is. Tyrant, show 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 kerns, whose arms
Are hired to bear their staves: either ^note thou, Macbeth,
Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd ^note edge,
I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited ^note: let me find ^note him, fortune!
And ^note more I beg not. [Exit. Alarums. ^note Enter Malcolm and old Siward. ^note

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 itself professes ^note yours,
And little is to do.

Mal.
We have ^note met with foes
That strike beside us.

Siw.
Enter, sir, the castle. [Exeunt. Alarum. ^note

^note Scene VIII. [Footnote: Another part of the field. ^note Enter ^note Macbeth.

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

Macd.
Turn, hell-hound, turn!

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

Macd.
I have ^note no words:
My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain
Than terms can give thee out! [They fight. ^note

Macb.
Thou losest labour:
As easy mayst 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 not yield
To one of woman born.

Macd.
Despair thy charm,
And let the angel whom thou still hast served
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripp'd.

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 believed,
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 ^note not fight with thee.

Macd.
Then yield thee, coward,
And live to be the show and gaze o' the time:
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole ^note, and underwrit,
‘Here may you see the tyrant.’

Macb.
I will ^note not yield,
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though Birnam ^note wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou opposed, being ^note of no woman born,
Yet I will try the last: before my body
I throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macduff;
And damn'd be him ^note that first cries ‘Hold, enough!’ [Exeunt, fighting. Alarums. ^note Retreat. Flourish. ^note Enter, with drum and colours, Malcolm, old Siward, ^note Ross, the other Thanes, ^note and Soldiers. ^note

Mal.
I would the friends we miss were safe arrived.

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.

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

Siw.
Then he is ^note dead?

Ross.
Ay, and brought off the field: your cause ^note of sorrow
Must not be measured by his worth, for then
It hath no end.

Siw.
Had he his hurts before?

Ross.
Ay, on the front.

Siw.
Why then, God'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:
They say he parted well and paid his score:
And so ^note God be with ^note him! Here comes newer comfort. Re-enter ^note Macduff, with Macbeth's head. ^{note note}

Macd.
Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands ^note
The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl ^note,
That speak my salutation in their minds;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:
Hail, King of Scotland! ^note

All.
Hail, ^note King of Scotland! ^note Flourish.

Mal.
We shall not spend ^note a large expense ^note of time
Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you. My ^note thanes and kinsmen,

Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour named. What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,
As calling home our exiled 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 ^note violent hands
Took off her life; this, and what ^note needful else
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace ^note
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. Exeunt. ^note

NOTES. ^note