Macbeth: Act 5, Scene 3
Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants.
1Bring me no more reports; let them fly all.
2Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
3I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
4Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
5All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:
6"Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman
7Shall e'er have power upon thee." Then fly, false thanes,
8And mingle with the English epicures!
9The mind I sway by and the heart I bear
10Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.
11The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
12Where got'st thou that goose look?
13There is ten thousand
14Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
15Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
16Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
17Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
18The English force, so please you.
19Take thy face hence.
Seyton!I am sick at heart,
20When I beholdSeyton, I say!This push
21Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
22I have liv'd long enough: my way of life
23Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf;
24And that which should accompany old age,
25As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
26I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
27Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
28Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
30What is your gracious pleasure?
What news more?
31All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.
32I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
33Give me my armour.
'Tis not needed yet.
34I'll put it on.
35Send out moe horses; skirr the country round;
36Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.
37How does your patient, doctor?
Not so sick, my lord,
38As she is troubled with thick coming fancies,
39That keep her from her rest.
Cure her of that.
40Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
41Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
42Raze out the written troubles of the brain
43And with some sweet oblivious antidote
44Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
45Which weighs upon the heart?
Therein the patient
46Must minister to himself.
47Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
48Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff.
49Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.
50Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast
51The water of my land, find her disease,
52And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
53I would applaud thee to the very echo,
54That should applaud again.Pull't off, I say.
55What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug,
56Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?
57Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
58Makes us hear something.
Bring it after me.
59I will not be afraid of death and bane,
60Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.
[Exeunt all but the Doctor.]
61Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
62Profit again should hardly draw me here.