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 shut.

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

Gent. It is an accustom'd 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 from her, to satisfy 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! -Fie, my lord, fie! 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? 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 starting.

Doct. 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 M. Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh!

:

1

1

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,

Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir.

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which have walk'd in their sleep, who 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 buried; he cannot come out of his 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. [Exit Lady Macbeth.

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, 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 mated, and amaz'd my sight:
I think, but dare not speak.

Gent.

Good night, good doctor.

[Exeunt.

G

SCENE II.

THE COUNTRY NEAR DUNSINANE.

Enter, with Drum and Colours, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, Lenor, and Soldiers.

Ment. The English power is near, led on by
Malcolm,

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 medicin 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 our march towards Birnam.

[Exeunt, marching.

SCENE III.

DUNSINANE. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants. Mac. Bring me no more reports; let them fly

all:

Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,

I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Mal

colm?

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
And mingle with the English epicures:
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,

Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear.

Enter a Servant.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon!

Where got'st thou that goose look?

Ser. There is ten thousand

Мас.

Ser.

Geese, villain?

Soldiers, sir.

Mac. 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? Ser. The English force, so please you.

Mac. Take thy face hence. --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 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