His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff. Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes Would, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm, Excite the mortified man.

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

Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his brother?

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

Ment. What does the tyrant?

Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies : Some say, he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause 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?

Cath. Well, march we on,

To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd:
Meet we the medecin 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,

Send out more horses, skirr the country round;

weeds.

Make we our march towards Birnam.

armour.

How does your patient, doctor?

Was he not born of woman? The spirits, that know

All mortal consequents, pronounc'd me thus : Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman, Shall e'er have power on thee. Then fly, false thanes,

And mingle with the English epicures:

The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,
Shall never sagg with doubt, nor

Enter a Servant.

shake with fear,

Doct. Not so sick, my lord,

As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.
Mach. 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 stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?

Doct. Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.

Mach. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.

Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff:Seyton, send out. -Doctor, the thanes fly from

me:

cast

loon!

Where got'st thou that goose look?

That should applaud again.-Pull't off. I say.What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug,

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,

Both more and less hath 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: Towards which, advance the war.

[Exeunt, marching.

SCENE V.-Dunsinane. Within the castle. Enter, with drums and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.

Mach. 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 [A cry within, of Women.

Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Mach. 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 supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me.-Wherefore was that cry? Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.

Mach. She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word.To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 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.

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

Mach. Liar, and slave!

[Striking him.

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

Mach. 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 the 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 estate of the world were now un-
done :-

Ring the alarum bell:-Blow, wind! come, wrack!

At least we'll die with harness on our back.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI-The same. A plain before the castle.

Enter, with drums and colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, MACDUFF, &c. and their army, with boughs.

Mal. Now near enough; your leavy screens throw down,

Re-enter MACDUFF.

Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn.

Mach. 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 have no words,

My voice is in my sword; thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out! [They fight.

Mach. 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 not yield
To one of woman born.

Macd. Despair thy charm;

And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd, Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb

More hateful to mine ear.

Mach. No, nor more fearful.

sword

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 show and gaze o'the time. We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted upon a pole; and underwrit, Here may you see the tyrant.

Mach. I'll 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, being 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 that first cries, Hold, enough.
[Exeunt, fighting.

Retreat. Flourish. Re-enter, with drum and
colours, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, ROSSE, LE-
NOX, ANGUS, CATHNESS, MENTETH, 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.

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 died.

Siw. Then he is 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 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 : So, God be with him!--Here comes newer comfort.

Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head on a pole.

Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art: Behold, where stands

I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl, That speak my salutation in their minds; Whose voices I desire aloud with mine,Hail, king of Scotland!

[Flourish.

All. King of Scotland, hail! Mal. We shall not spend a large expence of time,

Before we reckon with your several loves, And make us even with you. My 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 Grace,
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.

King JOHN:

Prince HENRY, his son; afterwards king Henry

III.

ARTHUR, duke of Bretagne, son of Geffrey, late duke of Bretagne, the elder brother of King John. WILLIAM MARESHALL, earl of Pembroke. GEFFREY FITZ-PETER, earl of Essex, chief justiciary of England.

WILLIAM LONGSWORD, earl of Salisbury.
ROBERT BIGOT, earl of Norfolk.

HUBERT DE BURGH, chamberlain to the king.
ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE, Son of Sir Robert
Faulconbridge:

PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE, his half-brother, bas-
tard son to king Richard the first.
JAMES GURNEY, servant to lady Faulconbridge.
PETER of Pomfret, a prophet.

PHILIP, king of France.

the palace.

The borrow'd majesty of England here.
Eli. A strange beginning;-borrow'd majesty!
K. John. Silence, good mother; hear the em-

bassy.

Chat. Philip of France, in right and true behalf Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim To this fair island, and the territories; To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine: