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.

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