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thus washing her hands; I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. Lady. Yet here's a spot. Phy. Hark, she speaks. Lady. Out, damned spot! out, I say!—One; Two; Why, then 'tis time to do’t:—Hell is murky —Fie, my lord, fiel a soldier, and afeard? what need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?—Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him Phy. 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 mar all with this starting. Phy. 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 1 oh oh Phy. 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. 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. Phy. 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. [Erit LADY MAcBETH. Phy. Will she now go to bed Gent. Directly. Phy. More needs she the divine, than the physiClan.
Look after her;
sCen. E II,
A Hall in the Castle at Dunsinane.
Enter MAcBETH and Sir GEN TLEMEN.
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 not he born of woman? The spirits that know All mortal consequences have pronounc'd me thus: “Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman, “Shall e'er have power upon thee."—Then fly, false
And mingle with the English epicures:
Enter SEcon D OFFICER.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac’d loon | Where got'st thou that goose look 2 Off. There is ten thousand Macb. Geese, villain 2 Off. 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? 2 Off. The English force, so please you.
Macb. Take thy face hence.— [Erit OFFIceR. Seyton —I am sick at heart, When I behold–Seyton, I say !—This push Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now. I have liv'd long enough: my way of life Is fallen 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 not. Seyton
Sey. What is your gracious pleasure ?
Macb. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be
Give me my armour.
Sey. "Tis not needed yet.
Send out more horses, skirr the country round;
Enter SEYToN, with the King's Truncheon, and a GENTLEMAN, with his Armour.
Macb. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.— Give me my staff:— Seyton, send out:-Doctor, the thanes fly from me:– 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.What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug, Would scour these English hence?—Hearest thou of
Phy. Ay, my good lord, your royal preparation
Macb. Bring it after me—
[Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.-Ereunt.
Birnam Forest.—A March.
Enter MALcol M, SIw ARD, MACDUFF, LENox,
Mal. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand,
" . And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our host, and make discovery
Len. It shall be done.
Rosse. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant
Macd. "Tis his main hope:
Siw. Let our just censures
Macd. The time approaches,
[March.-Ereunt into the Wood.
The Ramparts of the Castle at Dunsinane.
Enter MACBETH, SEYron, and ATT ENDANTs.
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.
A Cry within, o What is that noise [ y , of Women