Macbeth

Macbeth

ACT V SCENE III	Dunsinane. A room in the castle.
	Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants
MACBETH	Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
	Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
	I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
	Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know	5
	All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:
	'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman
	Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then fly,
	false thanes,
	And mingle with the English epicures:	10
	The mind I sway by and the heart I bear
	Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.
	Enter a Servant
	The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
	Where got'st thou that goose look?
Servant	There is ten thousand--	15
MACBETH	Geese, villain!
Servant	Soldiers, sir.
MACBETH	Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
	Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
	Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine	20
	Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
Servant	The English force, so please you.
MACBETH	Take thy face hence.
	Exit Servant
	Seyton!--I am sick at heart,
	When I behold--Seyton, I say!--This push	25
	Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
	I have lived long enough: my way of life
	Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf;
	And that which should accompany old age,
	As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,	30
	I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
	Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
	Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton!
	Enter SEYTON
SEYTON	What is your gracious pleasure?
MACBETH	What news more?	35
SEYTON	All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.
MACBETH	I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
	Give me my armour.
SEYTON	'Tis not needed yet.
MACBETH	I'll put it on.	40
	Send out more horses; skirr the country round;
	Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.
	How does your patient, doctor?
Doctor	Not so sick, my lord,
	As she is troubled with thick coming fancies,	45
	That keep her from her rest.
MACBETH	Cure her of that.
	Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
	Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
	Raze out the written troubles of the brain	50
	And with some sweet oblivious antidote
	Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
	Which weighs upon the heart?
Doctor	Therein the patient
	Must minister to himself.	55
MACBETH	Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
	Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff.
	Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.
	Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast
	The water of my land, find her disease,	60
	And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
	I would applaud thee to the very echo,
	That should applaud again.--Pull't off, I say.--
	What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug,
	Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?	65
Doctor	Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
	Makes us hear something.
MACBETH	Bring it after me.
	I will not be afraid of death and bane,
	Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.	70
Doctor	Aside
	Profit again should hardly draw me here.
	Exeunt