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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 so much as it needs,
To dew the fovereign flower, and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam.


SCENE, the Castle of Dunsinane.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.

'Till Birnam-wood remove to Dunsinane, I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? Was he not born of woman? spirits, that know All mortal consequences, have pronounc'd it : • Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman, * Shall e'er have power upon thee.-- Then fly false Thanes, And mingle with the English epicures. (43) The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, Shall never sag with doubt, nor shake with fear.



Fly, false Tbaness And mingle with tbe English epicures.] I thought this passage might deserve a note, if it were only to excuse our author from any imputation of throwing a slur on the English of his own times, for gluttony and epicurism. He had no such intention; but arifully throws in a satirical reflection in which he is countenanc'd by history. The fact is this. Hardicanute, (or Canutus III.) the Dane, a contemporary of Macbeib, and who reign'd bere just before the usurpation of the latter in Scotland, was a Prince of a courteous and liberal nature; but, withal, such 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 said to have learn'd from him exceffive gluttony in diet, and intemperance in drinking. He reign'd barely two years, and was succeeded by Edward the Conf:for. Now as Edward lent 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 seem to bear the harder, because Hardicanute and Edward were allied by a double tye of affinity. It may please fome readers, if I subjoin a Mort sketch of their pedigree and relation to one another,


Enter a Servant.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd lowa!
Where got'st thou that goose-look?
Ser. There are ten thousand-
Macb. Geese, villain ?
Ser. Soldiers, Sir.

Macb. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lilly-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch ?
Death of thy foul! those linnen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face ?

Ser. The English force, so please you.
Macb. Take thy face hence-Seyton! - I'm fick at heart,
When I behold - Seyton, I say !-this push
Will cheer me ever, or disease me now..
I have liv'd long enough: my way of life (44)
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,

Ethelred. X Emma. X Canutus.

Edward the confeffor.

Hardicanute, and Tbira; who married

Earl Godwin.

Edith: who married with Edward the Con

feffor. So that Edward and Hardicanute were brothers by the mother; and Edward married Hardicanute's own fister's daughter. (44)

My way of life Is fal'n into the sear:) i. e. The progress of my life. So, in a frago

επί γήρως εδώ. Tho', I am aware, that some commentators have thought, im by a poetical licence, and with regard to the measure, is put for åso. jeil, upon the threshold of old age.


ment of Menander;

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Curses not loud but deep, mouth-horour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not,

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.

níacb. I'll put it on.
Send out more horses, skirre the country round;
Hang those, that talk of fear. Give-me mine armour
How does your patient, Doctor

Doet. Not so fick, my Lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her reit.

Macb. Cure her of that:
Canft thou not minister to a mind diseas'd,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain ;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?

Doct. Therein the patient
Muit minister unto himself.

Macb. Throw phyfick to the dogs, I'll none of it
Come, put my armour on; give me my staff.
Seyton, send out-Doctor, the Thanes fly from me
Come, Sir, dispatch--If thou could'ft, Doctor, caft
The water of my land, find her. difease,
And purge it to a found and pristine health3
I would applaud thee to the very echo,
That Mould applaud again. Pull’t off, I fay
What rubarb, fenna, or what purgative drug,
Would scour these English hence! hear'ft thou of them?

Dost. Ay, my good Lord; your royal preparation
Makes us hear something.
Macb. Bring it after me;

I will

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

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

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SCENE changes to Birnam-Wood. Enter Malcolm, Siward; Macduff, Siward's Sox, Men

teth, Cathness, Angus, and Soldiers marching. Mal. Vousins, I hope, the days are near at hand,

That chambers will be safe.
Ment. We doubt it nothing.
Siw. What wood is this before us?
Ment. 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 hoft, and make discov'ry
Err in report of us.

Sold. It hall be done.

Siw. We' learn no other, but the con£dent tyrant
Keeps still in Dunfinane, 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 contrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.

Macd. Let our just censures
Attend the true event, and put we on
Industrious soldiership.

Siw. 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


Vol. VI,


SCENE changes to the Castle of Dunsinane. Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers with drums and colţurs, Macb. he :

Ang out our banners on the outward walls, Will laugh a fiege to scorn.

Here let them lye, 'Till famine and the ague eat them up: Were they not forc'd with thofe 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 women, my good Lord.

alacb. I have almoft forgot the taste of fears:
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To bear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouze and stir,
As life were in't. I have supt full with horrors;
Direness, familiar to my faught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry?

Sry. The Queen, my Lord, is dead.

Macb. She should have dy'd hereafter;
There would have been a time for fuch a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-inor, ow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last fyllable of recorded time;
And all our yelterdays have lighted fools (45)

The (45) And all arır yesterdays bave lighted fools

The way to liudy death -] This reading is as old as the 2d ejition in folio; but, furely, it is paying too great a compliment to the capacities of tools It would much better fort with the character of wile men, to itudy how to die from the experience of past times. I have reitor'd the reading of the first folio, which Mr. Pope has thrown out of his text. The way

10 dusty death. i. e. D.ath, which reduces us to dust and ashes, Metuvopia ef.ai pro firenti. Or, perhaps, the poet might have wrote;

I he way to dusky death.
i, e caik; a word very familiar with him,

Myself, as far as I could well discern
s or imoak and dusty vapours of the night:


Henry VI.

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