Meet we the med'cine of the fickly weal,

And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
Each drop of us.

Len. Or fo much as it needs,

To dew the fovereign flower, and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam.

[Exeunt

SCENE, the Caftle of Dunfinane.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.

Mach. B Ring me no more reports, let them fly all:

Birnam-wood remove to Dunsinane, I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? Was he not born of woman? fpirits, that know All mortal confequences, have pronounc'd it:

Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman, • Shall e'er have power upon thee.--Then fly falfe Thanes, And mingle with the English epicures. (43)

The mind I fway by, and the heart I bear,

Shall never fag with doubt, nor fhake with fear.

(43)

Fly, falfe Thanes

Enter

And mingle with the English epicures.] I thought this paffage might deferve a note, if it were only to excuse our author from any imputation of throwing a flur on the English of his own times, for gluttony and epicurifm. He had no fuch intention; but artfully throws in a fatirical reflection in which he is countenanc'd by history. The fact is this. Hardicanute, (01 Canutus III.) the Dane, a contemporary of Macbeth, and who reign'd bere just before the ufurpation of the latter in Scotland, was a Prince of a courteous and liberal nature; but, withal, fuch a lover of good cheer, that he would have his table cover'd four times a day, and largely furnish'd. So that the Englishmen were faid to have learn'd from him exceffive gluttony in diet, and intemperance in drinking. He reign'd barely two years, and was fucceeded by Edward the Confeffor. Now as Edward sent a force against Scotland, Macbeth malevolently is made to charge this temperate Prince (in his subjects,) with the ricts of his predeceffor. And the infinuation may feem to bear the harder, because Hardicanute and Edward were allied by a double tye of affinity. It may please fome readers, if I fubjoin a fhort sketch of their pedigree and relation to one another,

Ethelred.

Enter a Servant.

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

Ser. There are ten thousand

Mach. Geefe, villain?

Ser. Soldiers, Sir.

Mach. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,

Thou lilly-liver'd boy.

What foldiers, patch?

linnen cheeks of thine

What foldiers, whey-face?

Death of thy foul! thofe
Are counsellors to fear.

Ser. The Englifb force, fo please you.

Macb. Take thy face hence-Seyton!-I'm fick at heart, When I behold-Seyton, I fay!--this pufh

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 stead,

So that Edward and Hardicanute were brothers by the mother; and Edward 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, poetical licence, and with regard to the measure, is put for upon the threshold of old age.

by a

d. fcil.

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 pleasure ?
Macb. 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.

Mach. I'll put it on.

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

Doct. Not fo fick, my Lord,

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

Mach. Cure her of that:

Canft thou not minister to a mind diseas'd,
Pluck from the memory a rooted forrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain ;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the ftuff'd bofom of that perilous fluff,
Which weighs upon the heart?

Dot. Therein the patient

Muft minifter unto himself.`

Mach. Throw phyfick to the dogs, I'll none of it-
Come, put my armour on; give me my staff.
Seyton, fend out-Doctor, the Thanes fly from me→→
Come, Sir, difpatch-If thou could'ft, 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 fhould applaud again. Pull't off, I fay-
What rubarb, fenna, or what purgative drug,

Would fcour thefe English hence! hear'ft thou of them?
Doct. Ay, my good Lord; your royal preparation
Makes us hear (omething.

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 Sox, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, and Soldiers marching.

Mal.Co

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 hoft, and make discov'ry Err in report of us.

Sold. It fhall be done.

Siw. 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 juft cenfures
Attend the true event, and put we on
Induftrious foldierfhip.

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 muft arbitrate:

Towards which, advance the war.

[Exeunt marching.

VOL. VI,

VC.

SCENE

SCENE changes to the Caftle of Dunfinane.

Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers with drums and colcurs,

Mach. Hang out our banners on the outward walls,

The cry is ftill, they come: our caftle's strength

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 dismal treatise rouze and stir,

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?
Sy. 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-morow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last fyllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools (45)

(45) And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The

The way to fudy death] This reading is as old as the ad edition in folios 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 study how to die from the experience of paft times. I have restor'd the reading of the first folio, which Mr. Pope has thrown out of his text.

The way to dufty death.

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

The way to dusky death.

i e caik; a word very familiar with him,

Myfelf, as far as I could well difcern

For fmoak and dusky vapours of the night: