Enter a Servant.

"The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd lown! Where got'ft thou that goofe-look ?

Ser. There are ten thoufand

Mach. Geefe, villain?

Ser. Soldiers, Sir.

Macb. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lilly-liver'd boy. What foldiers, patch? Death of thy foul! thofe linnen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear. What foldiers, whey-face? Ser. The Englifb force, so please you.

Macb. Take thy face hence-Seyton!- I'm fick at heart,
When I behold-Seyton, I fay !-this push
Will cheer me ever, or difeafe me now.
I have liv'd long enough: my way of life (44)
Is fall'n into the fear, 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 ftead,

So that Edward and Hardicanute were brothers by the mother; and Edvard married Hardicanute's own fifter's daughter.

(44)

My way of life

Is fal'n into the fear:] i. e. The progrefs of my life. So, in a frag ment of Menander;

— ἐπὶ γήρως ὁδῷ.

Tho', I am aware, that fome commentators have thought, d by a poetical licence, and with regard to the measure, is put for ade, fail, upon the threshold of old age.

Curfes

Curfes not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.. Seyton,

Enter Seyton.

Sey. What is your gracious pleafure ?
Mach. What news more?

Sey. All is confirm'd, my Lord, which was reported, Macb. I'll fight, 'till from my bones my flesh be hackt; Give me my armour.

Sey. 'Tis not needed yet.

Macb. I'll put it on.

Send out more horfes, fkirre the country round;
Hang those, that talk of fear. Give me mine armour
How does your patient, Doctor?

Do&. Not fo fick, my Lord,

As the is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her reft.

Mach. Cure her of that:

Canft thou not minister to a mind difeas'd,
Pluck from the memory a rooted forrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with fome fweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanfe the ftuff'd bofom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?

Dot. Therein the patient
Muft minifter unto himself.

Macb. Throw phyfick to the dogs, I'll none of itCome, put my armour on; give me my staff.

Seyton, fend out-Doctor, the Thanes fly from me→→
Come, Sir, difpatch-If thou could't, Doctor, caft
The water of my land, find her difeafe,

And purge it to a found and priftine health;
I would applaud thee to the very echo,

That should applaud again. Pull't off, I fay-
What rubarb, fenna, or what purgative drug,

Would fcour thefe English hence! hear'st thou of them?
Dot. Ay, my good Lord; your royal preparation
Makes us hear fomething.

Macb. Bring it after me;

3

I will

I will not be afraid of death and bane, 'Till Birnam-forest come to Dunfinane.

Doct. Were I from Dunfinane away, and clear, Profit again fhould hardly draw me here.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Birnam-Wood.

Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, Siward's Son, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, and Soldiers marching.

Mal.

C

Oufins, I hope, the days are near at hand,
That chambers will be fafe.

Ment. We doubt it nothing.

Siw. What wood is this before us?
Ment. The wood of Birnam.

Mal. Let every foldier hew him down a bough,
And bear't before him; thereby fhall we fhadow
The numbers of our host, and make discov'ry
Err in report of us.

Sold. It fhall be done.

Sir. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant Keeps ftill in Dunfinane, and will endure Our fetting down before't,

Mal. 'Tis his main hope:

For where there is advantage to be given,

Both more and lefs have given him the revolt;
And none ferve with him but conftrained things,
Whofe hearts are abfent too.

Macd. Let our just cenfures
Attend the true event, and put we on
Induftrious foldiership.

Siw. The time approaches,

That will with due decifion make us know
What we fhall fay we have, and what we owe:
Thoughts fpeculative their unfure hopes relate;
But certain iffue ftrokes must arbitrate:
Towards which, advance the war.

[Exeunt marching.

VOL. VI.

SCENE

SCENE changes to the Caftle of Dunfinane.

Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers with drums and colours.

Mach. The cry is ftill, they come: our caftle's ftrength

Will laugh a fiege to fcorn. Here let them lye,
'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 noife?
[A cry within of women.

?

Sey. It is the cry of women, my good Lord.
Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears:
The time has been, my fenfes would have cool'd
To hear a night-fhriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a difmal treatife rouze and ftir,
As life were in't. I have fupt full with horrors;
Direnefs, familiar to my flaught'rous thoughts,.
Cannot once ftart me. Wherefore was that cry
Sty. The Queen, my Lord, is dead.
Macb. She thould have dy'd hereafter;
There would have been a time for fuch a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-mor.ow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the laft fyllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools (45)

(45) And all our yesterdays bave lighted fools

The

The way to Rudy death. - This reading is as old as the 2d edition in folio; but, furely, it is paying too great a compliment to the capacities of fools. It would much better fort with the character of wife men, to ftudy how to die from the experience of paft times. I have reflor'd the reading of the first folio, which Mr. Pope has thrown out of his text.

The way to duty death.

i. e. Death, which reduces us to duft and ashes. Merovuμia effecti pro efficiente. Or, perhaps, the poet might have wrote;

The way to dusky death.

,i. e dark; a word very familiar with him.

Myfelf, as far as I could well difcern

For fmoak and dufky vapours of the night:

x Henry V.

Here

The way to dufty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking fhadow, a poor player,
That ftruts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more! it is a tale, ~
Told, by an ideot, full of found and fury,
Signifying nothing!

Enter a Meffenger.

Thou com'ft to ufe thy tongue: thy ftory quickly.,
Mef. My gracious Lord,

1

I should report that which, I fay, I faw,
But know not how to do't.

Macb. Well, fay it, Sir.

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

Mach. Liar, and flave!

[Striking him.

Mef. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not foc
Within this three mile may you fee it coming;
I fay, a moving grove.

Mach. If thou fpeak'ft falfe,

Upon the next tree fhalt thou hang alive,

Fill famine cling thee: If thy fpeech be footh

I care not if thou doft for me as much.

I pull in refolution, and begin

To doubt th' equivocation of the fiend,

That lies like truth. "Fear not, till Birnam-wood. n

"Do come to Dunfinane,”—and row a wood

Comes toward Dunfinane. 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 fun; (46)

And wifh, the ftate o' th' world were now undone.

Here dyes the dusky torch of Mortimer.
And when the dusky fky began to rob, t2
Untimely fmother'd in their dufky graves.

(46) I'gin to be a weary of the fun;

2 Henry VI

Rich. 111 14

And wifh, &c.] Macbeth feems here exactly in the circumfance of Dido in Virgil. He knows his fate; and his misfortunes fit fo heavy upon him, that he is weary of being longer in the world. Tum vero infelix fatis exterrita Dido Mortem orat; tædet cæli convexa tueri,

Q_2

Encid. IV.

Ring