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 stifles these apprehensions: it is here asserted only, that he feels them, as Macbeth does; and that Macbeth, like him, suppresses them. The wood of Birnam advances towards Dunsinane: The tyrant Doubts the equivocation of the fiend;

and, believing the laws of nature inverted to his ruin, Pulls in resolution:

instantly, however, like Richard, he shakes off this momentary dismay, and heroically rushing to battle, exclaims,— Blow, wind! come wrack! At least, we'll die with harness on our back.