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.