Doctor, and Others, attending.
Macb.
Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
-- 73 --
'Till Birnam note wood remove to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? Spirits, that know14Q0530
All mortal consequences, have pronounc'd me,
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 an Attendant, hastily.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon!
Where got'st thou that goose look?
Att.
There is ten thousand.
Macb.
Geese, villain?
Att.
Soldiers, sir.
Macb.
Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lilly-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
Death of thy soul! those linnen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
Att.
The English force, so please you.
Macb.
Take thy face hence.—Seyton!—I am note sick at heart,
When I behold—Seyton, I say!—This push
Will cheer me ever, or disease note me now.
I have liv'd long enough: my way of note life
Is faln 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.
-- 74 --
Sey.
What is your gracious pleasure?
Macb.
What news more?
Sey.
All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.
Macb.
I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.—
Give me my armour.
Sey.
'Tis not needed yet.
Macb.
I'll put it on.
Send out more horses, skirr the country round;
Hang those that talk of fear. note—Give me mine armour.—
How does your patient, doctor?
Doc.
Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubl'd with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.
Macb.
Cure her note of that:
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Rase note out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuft bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?
Doc.
Therein the patient
Must minister to himself. note
Macb.
Throw physick 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 could'st, 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, note senna, or what purgative drug,
Would scour these English hence? Hearest thou of them?
-- 75 --
Doc.
Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
Makes us hear something.
Macb.
Bring it after me.—
I will not be afraid of death and bane,
'Till Birnam note forest come to Dunsinane.
&clquo;Doc.
&clquo;Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,&crquo;
&clquo;Profit again should hardly draw me here.&crquo;
[Exeunt.
Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
