[The countryside near Dunsinane Hill. Military drums and flags. Enter several Scottish lords leading armed troops]
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
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
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 distempered cause
Angus
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
Menteith
His pestered senses to recoil and start,
When all that is within him does condemn
Caithness
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,
Lennox
To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam.
[Exit, marching]
