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(The country near Dunsinane)
[Drum and colours. Enter MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS,
LENNOX, and Soldiers]
MENTEITH: 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.
ANGUS: Near Birnam wood
Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.
CAITHNESS: Who knows if Donalbain
be with his brother?
LENNOX: 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.
MENTEITH: What does the tyrant?
CAITHNESS: 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.
ANGUS: 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.
MENTEITH: Who then shall blame
His pester'd senses to recoil and start,
When all that is within him does condemn
Itself for being there?
CAITHNESS: Well, march we on,
To give obedience where 'tis truly owed:
Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal,
And with him pour we in our country's purge
Each drop of us.
LENNOX: Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam.
[Exeunt, marching]
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