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Macbeth: Act 5 Scene 3
Scene III Dunsinane. A room in the castle.
- [Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants]
- 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
- 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:
- 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?
- There is ten thousand--
- Geese, villain!
- Soldiers, sir.
- 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
- Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
- The English force, so please you.
- Take thy face hence.
- [Exit Servant]
- Seyton!--I am sick at heart,
- When I behold--Seyton, I say!--This push
- 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,
- 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]
- What is your gracious pleasure?
- What news more?
- All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.
- I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
- Give me my armour.
- 'Tis not needed yet.
- I'll put it on.
- Send out more horses; skirr the country round;
- Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.
- How does your patient, doctor?
- Not so sick, my lord,
- As she is troubled with thick coming fancies,
- That keep her from her rest.
- 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
- And with some sweet oblivious antidote
- Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
- Which weighs upon the heart?
- Therein the patient
- Must minister to himself.
- 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,
- 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?
- Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
- Makes us hear something.
- Bring it after me.
- I will not be afraid of death and bane,
- Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.
- [Aside] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
- Profit again should hardly draw me here.