The English power is near, led on by Malcolm. Revenges burn in them, for their dear causes would to the bleeding and the grim alarm. Excite the mortified man.
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 man hood.
Near Birnam wood. Shall we well meet them.
Who knows if Donalbain be with his borther?
Now does he feel his secret murders sticking on his h ands. 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 theif.
What does the tyrant?
Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies. Some say he's mad, others that lesser hate him do call it valiant fury. But, for certain, he cannnot buckle his distempered cause within the belt of rule.
Who then shall blame his pestered senses to recoil and start, when all that is within him does condemn itself for bring there?
To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam.
To give obedience where 'its truly owed. Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal, and with him pour we in our country's purge each drop of us.
English soldiers and Malcolm and Macduff have assembled outside of Macbeth's castle and want revenge.
Macbeth is getting his castle ready and in a constant rage verging of madness. Now Macbeth feels the blood of his secret murder sticking on his hands.
They will meet with Malcolm and the doctor and believe they will be the one who is able to cure the country. And they think Malcolm will be a better king that Macbeth.