Gracious my lord, I should report that which I say I saw

Messenger
Gracious my lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do ’t.
Macbeth
Well, say, sir.

I pull in resolution and begin
To doubt th’ equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth.

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 shall thou hang alive
Till famine cling thee. If thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.—
I pull in resolution and begin
To doubt th’ equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth. “Fear not till Birnam Wood
Do come to Dunsinane,” and now a wood
Comes toward Dunsinane.—Arm, arm, and out!—
If this which he avouches does appear,
There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
I ’gin to be aweary of the sun
And wish th’ estate o’ th’ world were now undone.—
Ring the alarum bell!—Blow wind, come wrack,
At least we’ll die with harness on our back.
 They exit.