1 The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, 2 His uncle Siward and the good Macduff: 3 Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes 4 Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm 5 Excite the mortified man.
6 Near Birnam wood 7 Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.
8 Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?
9 For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file 10 Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son, 11 And many unrough youths that even now 12 Protest their first of manhood.
13 What does the tyrant?
14 Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies: 15 Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him 16 Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, 17 He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause 18 Within the belt of rule.
19 Now does he feel 20 His secret murders sticking on his hands; 21 Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; 22 Those he commands move only in command, 23 Nothing in love: now does he feel his title 24 Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe 25 Upon a dwarfish thief.
26 Who then shall blame 27 His pester'd senses to recoil and start, 28 When all that is within him does condemn 29 Itself for being there?
30 Well, march we on, 31 To give obedience where 'tis truly owed: 32 Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal, 33 And with him pour we in our country's purge 34 Each drop of us.
35 Or so much as it needs, 36 To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds. 37 Make we our march towards Birnam.