Macbeth by William Shakespeare
Act 5 - Scene 3
Dunsinane. A room in the castle.
Macbeth : Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
[p]Till Birnam wood remove
to Dunsinane,
[p]I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy
Malcolm?
[p]Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
[p]All
mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:
[p]'Fear not, Macbeth; no
man that's born of woman
[p]Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then
fly,
[p]false thanes,
[p]And mingle with the English epicures:
[p]The
mind I sway by and the heart I bear
[p]Shall never sag with doubt nor
shake with fear.
[p][Enter a Servant]
[p]The devil damn thee black,
thou cream-faced loon!
[p]Where got'st thou that goose look?
Servant : There is ten thousand--
Macbeth : Geese, villain!
Servant : Soldiers, sir.
Macbeth : Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
[p]Thou lily-liver'd boy.
What soldiers, patch?
[p]Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of
thine
[p]Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
Servant : The English force, so please you.
Macbeth : Take thy face hence.
[p][Exit Servant]
[p]Seyton!--I am sick at
heart,
[p]When I behold--Seyton, I say!--This push
[p]Will cheer me
ever, or disseat me now.
[p]I have lived long enough: my way of
life
[p]Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf;
[p]And that which
should accompany old age,
[p]As honour, love, obedience, troops of
friends,
[p]I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
[p]Curses,
not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
[p]Which the poor heart would
fain deny, and dare not. Seyton!
Seyton : What is your gracious pleasure?
Macbeth : What news more?
Seyton : All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.
Macbeth : I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
[p]Give me my
armour.
Seyton : 'Tis not needed yet.
Macbeth : I'll put it on.
[p]Send out more horses; skirr the country
round;
[p]Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.
[p]How
does your patient, doctor?
Doctor : Not so sick, my lord,
[p]As she is troubled with thick coming
fancies,
[p]That keep her from her rest.
Macbeth : Cure her of that.
[p]Canst thou not minister to a mind
diseased,
[p]Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
[p]Raze out the
written troubles of the brain
[p]And with some sweet oblivious
antidote
[p]Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
[p]Which
weighs upon the heart?
Doctor : Therein the patient
[p]Must minister to himself.
Macbeth : Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
[p]Come, put mine armour
on; give me my staff.
[p]Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from
me.
[p]Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast
[p]The water
of my land, find her disease,
[p]And purge it to a sound and pristine
health,
[p]I would applaud thee to the very echo,
[p]That should
applaud again.--Pull't off, I say.--
[p]What rhubarb, cyme, or what
purgative drug,
[p]Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of
them?
Doctor : Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
[p]Makes us hear something.
Macbeth : Bring it after me.
[p]I will not be afraid of death and bane,
[p]Till
Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.
Doctor : [Aside] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
[p]Profit again should
hardly draw me here.
Previous: Act 5 - Scene 2
Next: Act 5 - Scene 4
