18 There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
20 Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle,
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Enter a Messenger.
Thou com'st to use thy tongue: thy story quickly.
MESSENGER
30 Gracious my lord, 31 I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do't.
MACBETH Well, say, sir.
MESSENGER
As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I looked toward Birnam, and anon methought
The wood began to move.
MACBETH Liar and slave!
MESSENGER
Let me endure your wrath if't be not so.
Within this three mile may you see it coming.
I say, a moving grove.
MACBETH If thou speak'st false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive
40 Till famine cling thee. If thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much.
I pull in resolution, and begin42
To doubt th' equivocation of the fiend43
That lies like truth. "Fear not, till Birnam Wood Do come to Dunsinane," and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!