MACBETH
If thou speak'st false,
38 Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
39 Till famine cling thee; if thy speech be sooth,
40 I care not if thou dost for me as much.
41 I pull in resolution, and begin
42 To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
43 That lies like truth. "Fear not, till Birnam wood
44 Do come to Dunsinane," and now a wood
45 Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
46 If this which he avouches does appear,
47 There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
48 I gin to be aweary of the sun,
49 And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
50 Ring the alarum-bell!
Blow, wind! come, wrack!
51 At least we'll die with harness on our back.
see
here