SCENE III. DUNSINANE. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.
Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants
MACBETH
Bring me no more reports; let them ๏ฌy 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 ๏ฌy,
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?
SERVANT
There is ten thousandโ
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 Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
SERVANT
The English force, so please you.
MACBETH
Take thy face hence.
Exit Servant
Seyton!โI am sick at heart,
When I beholdโSeyton, I say!โThis 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
SEYTON
What is your gracious pleasure?
MACBETH
What news more?
SEYTON
All is con๏ฌrm'd, my lord, which was reported.
MACBETH
I'll ๏ฌght till from my bones my ๏ฌesh be hack'd.
Give me my armour.
SEYTON
'Tis not needed yet.
MACBETH
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?
DOCTOR
Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick coming fancies, 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 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.
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 ๏ฌy from me.
Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast The water of my land, ๏ฌnd her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud again.โPull't off, I say.โ What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug, Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?
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.
DOCTOR
[Aside] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
Pro๏ฌt again should hardly draw me here.
Exeunt
