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App. Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him.


That will never be:
Who can impress the forest; bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root? sweet bodements! good!
Rebellious head, rise never, till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time and mortal custom.-Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, (if your art
Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever
Reign in this kingdom?

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His flight was madness: When our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors.
You know not,
Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.

Seek to know no more.
Mach. I will be satisfied: deny me this,
And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know:-I
Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?
1 Witch. Show! 2 Witch. Show! 3 Wilch. Show!
All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
Come like shadows, so depart.

Eight Kings appear, and pass over the stage in
order; the last with a glass in his hand; BAN-
Quo following.

Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo;

Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls:-And thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first:-
A third is like the former:-Filthy hags!
Why do you show me this?-A fourth-Start, eyes!
What! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?
Another yet?-A seventh?-I'll see no more:-
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
Which shows me many more: and some I see,
That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry:
Horrible sight!-Ay, now, I see, 'tis true;
For the blood-bolter'd' Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his.-What, is this so?
1 Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so:-But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?—
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,
And show the best of our delights;

I'll charm the air to give a sound,

While you perform your antique round:
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.

[Music. The Witches dance, and vanish. Macb. Where are they? Gone?-Let this pernicious hour

Stand aye accursed in the calendar!-
Come in, without there!

Enter LENOX.

What's your grace's will?
Macb. Saw you the weird sisters?
No, my lord.
Macb. Came they not by you?
No, indeed, my lord.
Mach. Infected be the air whereon they ride;
And damn'd, all those that trust them!-I did hear
The galloping of horses: Who was't came by?
Len. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you

Macduff is fled to England.


Len. Ay, my good lord.

Fled to England!

Mach. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits:
The lighty purpose never is o'ertook,
Unless the deed go with it: From this moment,
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And even now

To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and

The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o'the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace his line. No boasting like a fool:
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool:
But no more sights!-Where are these gentlemen?
Come, bring me where they are.
SCENE II.-Fife. A Room in Macduff's Castle.
Enter Lady MACDUFF, her Son, and Rosse.
L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the


Besmeared with blood.

Preventest, by taking away the opportunity.

L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his

His mansion, and his titles, in a place
From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All is the fear, and nothing is the love,
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason.

My dearest coz,
pray you, school yourself: But, for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
The fits o'the season. I dare not speak much further
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,
And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumor
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear;
But float upon a wild and violent sea,
Each way, and move.-I take my leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be here again;
Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before.-My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you!

L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.
Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort:
I take my leave at once.
[Exit Rosse.
L. Macd.
Sirrah, your father's dead;
And what will you do now? How will you live?
Son. As birds do, mother.
L. Macd.
What, with worms and flies?
Son. With what I get, I mean; and so do they.
L. Macd. Poor bird! thou'dst never fear the net,
nor lime,

The pit-fall, nor the gin.

Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.

My father is not dead, for all your saying.

L. Macd. Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for

a father?

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Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

L. Macb. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and yet, i'faith,

With wit enough for thee.

Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?
L. Macd. Ay, that he was.

Son. What is a traitor?

L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.
Son. And be all traitors, that do so?

L. Macd. Every one that does so is a traitor, and
must be hanged.

Son. And must they all be hanged, that swear and lie?

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Boundless intemperance

The untimely emptying of the happy throne,
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours: you may

Mal. Let us seck out some desolate shade, and Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,


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Hold fast the moral sword; and, like good men,
Bestride our downfall'n birthdom: Each new morn,
New widows howl; new orphans cry; new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out
Like syllable of dolor.


What I believe, I'll wail;
What know, believe; and, what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance.
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you have love'd him well;
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but

You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,
To appease an angry god.

Macd. I am not treacherous.

But Macbeth is.

A good and virtuos nature may recoil,
In an imperial charge. But crave your pardon;
That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose:
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell:
Though all things foul would bear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.

I have lost my hores. Mal. Perchance, even there, where I did find my doubts.

Why in that rawness left your wife, and child,
(Those precious motives, those strong notes of love,)
Without leave-taking?-I pray you,

Let not my jealousies be your dishonors,
But mine own safeties:-You may be rightly just,

Whatever I shall think.
Bleed, bleed, poor country.
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dares not check thee! wear thou thy


Thy title is affeer'd!-Fare thee well, lord:
I would not be the villain that thou think'st
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
And the rich East to boot.


Be not offended:

I speak not as in an absolute fear of you.
I think our country sinks beneath the yoke,
It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds: I think, withal,
There would be hands uplifted in my right;
And here from gracious England, have I offer
Of goodly thousands: But, for all this,
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before;
More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed.

What should he be? Mal. It is myself I mean: in whom I know

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And yet seem cold, the time you may so hood-wink.
We have willing dames enough; there cannot be
That vulture in you, to devour so many
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so inclin'd.


With this, there grows,

In my most ill-compos'd affection, such
A stanchless avarice, that, were I king,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands;
Desire his jewels, and this other's house:
And my more-having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more; that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good, and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.


This avarice
Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeding lust: and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings: Yet do not fear;
Scotland hath foysons to fill up your will,
Of your mere own: All these are portable, 4
With other graces weigh'd.

Mal. But I have none: The king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them; but abound'
In the division of each several crime,
Acting in many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.

Macd. O Scotland! Scotland! Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak: I am as I have spoken. Macd. Fit to govern! No, not to live.-O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again? Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accurs'd, And does blaspheme his breed?-Thy royal father Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore thee, Oftner upon her knees than on her feet, Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself, Have banish'd me from Scotland.-O, my breast, Thy hope ends here!

Mal. Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts
To the good truth and honor. Devlish Macbeth
By many of these trains hath sought to win me
Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous haste: But God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now

I put my self to thy direction, and
Unspeak mine own detraction: here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman; never was forsworn;
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own;
The devil to his fellow; and delight
At no time broke my faith; would not betray

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Mal. Well; more anon.-Comes the king forth, I pray you?

Doct. Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched souls That stay his cure: their malady convinces The great assay of art: but, at his touch, Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, They presently amend. Mal.

I thank you, doctor.

[Exit Doctor. Macd. What's the disease he means? Mal. 'Tis call'd the evil: A most miraculous work in this good king; Which often, since my here-remain in England, I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, Himself best knows; but strangely visited people, All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of surgery, he cures; Hanging the golden stamp about their necks Put on with holy prayer: and 'tis spoken, To the succeeding royalty he leaves

The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
He had a heavenly gift of prophecy;

And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.

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Sir, Amen.

Macd. Stands Scotland where it did? Rosse. Alas, poor country: Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs and groans, and shrieks that rent the air, Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstacy; the dead man's knell Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying, or ere they sicken. Macd.

Ọ, relation,

Too nice, and yet too true!

What is the newest grief?
Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker,
Each minute teems a new one.
Rosse. Why, well.

How does my wife?
And all my children?

Well too.
Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?
Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did
leave them.

Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; How
goes it?

Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings,
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumor
Of many worthy fellows that were out.

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What concerns they?

That general cause? or is it a fee-grief,"
Due to some single breast?
No mind that's honest,
But in it shares some woe: though the main part
Pertains to you alone.
If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound, That ever yet they heard.

Macd. Humph! I guess at it. Rosse. Your castle is surpris'd; your wife and babes, Savagely slaughter'd! to relate the manner, Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, To add the death of you. Mal. Merciful heaven!What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak, Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. Macd. My children too? Rosse.

That could be found. Macd.

My wife kill'd too?

Rosse. Mal.

Wife, children, servants, all

And I must be from thence! I have said.

Be comforted: Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief.

Macd. He has no children.-All my pretty ones? Did you say, all?-O, hell-kite!-All!

What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell swoop?

Mal. Dispute it like a man.
I shall do so;
But I must also feel it as a man:

I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,
And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now!
Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggard with my tongue!-But, gentle


Cut short all intermission; front to front,
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself;
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too!
This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you

The night is long that never finds the day. [Exeunt.


SCENE I.-Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. | seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown

Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a waiting Gentle


Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?

Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have

Overpowers, subdues. The coin called an angel. 8 Common distress of mind.

upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed: yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry agitation, besides her 1 Catch.

Put off

2 A grief that has a single owner. The game after it is killed.

walking, and other actual performance, what, at any time, have you heard her say?

Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her. Doct. You may, to me; and 'tis most meet you should.

Gent. Neither to you, nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech.

Enter Lady MACBETH, with a Taper. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise: and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.

Doct. How came she by that light?

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.
What does the tyrant?


Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
Some say, he's mad; others, that lesser hate him,
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
Within the belt of rule.
Now does he feel
His secret murders sticking on his hands;

Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;

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 accustomed 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.

Docl. 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!-Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier, and afear'd? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our powers 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!

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 walked 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?

Those he commands, move only in command,
Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
Upon a dwarfish thief.
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe

His pester'd senses to recoil and start,
Who then shall blame
When all that is within him does condemn
Itself, for being there?
To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd:"
Well, march we on,
Meet we the medecin of the sickly weal;
Each drop of us.
And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds.
Or so much as it needs,
Make we our march towards Birnam.
[Exeunt, marching.

SCENE III-Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.
Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants.
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
Mach. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all;

Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
All mortal consequents, pronounced me thus:
Shall e'er have power on thee. Then fly, false
Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman,

And mingle with the English epicures:
Shall never sagg with doubt, nor shake with fear.
The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear,

Enter a Servant.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!1
Where gott'st thou that goose look?
Serve. There is ten thousand-


Geese, villain?
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 checks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
Serv. The English force, so please you.
Macb. Take thy face hence.-Seyton!-I am sick
When I behold-Seyton, I say!-This push
at heart,
Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
I have liv'd long enough: my May of life

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 Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf:


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;
Romove 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.

Good-night, good doctor.

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And that which should accompany old age,
As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not.
Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath,


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Mach. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.-— Come, put mine armor on; give me my staff.Seyton, send out.-Doctor, the thanes fly from me:Come, sir, despatch:--If thou couldst, 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.-Pull't off, I say.What hubarb, senna, or what purgative drug, Would scour these English hence!-Hearest thou of them?

Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Makes us hear something.


Bring it after me.I will not be afraid of death and bane, Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.


Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, Profit again should hardly draw me here. [Exit. SCENE IV.-Country near Dunsinane. A Wood in view.

Enter, with Drum and Colors, MALCOLM, old SI-
ANGUS, LENOX, Rosse, and Soldiers, marching.
Mal. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand
That chambers will be safe.
We doubt it nothing.
Siw. What wood is this before us?
The wood of Birnam.
Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a bough,|
And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our host, and make discovery
Err in report of us.



It shall be done.

Siw. We learn no other, but the confident 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 have 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.


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 Colors, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.

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 ague, eat them up:

Were they not forced with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home. What is that noise? [A cry within of women.

Sey. It is the cry of woman, my good lord.
Much. 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.

Macb. She should have died hereafter;
Bi. e. Greater and less.


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.

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

Liar, and slave!

Macb. [Striking him. Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three mile may you see it coming; I say, a moving grove. Mucb. 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 inuch.I pull in resolution; and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend, That lies like truth: Fear not till Birnam wood Comes toward Dunsinane.-Arm, arm, and out.Do come to Dunsinane;-and now a wood If this which he avouches, does 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 undone.Ring the alarum bell:-Blow wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.



SCENE VI.-A Plain before the Castle.

Enter, with Drums and Colors, MALCOLM, old SIWARD, MACDUFF, &c., and their Army, with Boughs.

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

And show like those you are:-You, worthy uncle,
Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
Lead our first battle; worthy Macduff, and we,
Shall take upon us what else remains to do,
According to our order.

Fare you well.-
Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.

Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,

Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. [Exeunt. Alarums continued.

SCENE VII.-Another Part of the Plain.

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