Bring me no more reports, let them fly all.

5.3.22216Till Birnam Wood remove to Dunsinane,

5.3.32217I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?

5.3.42218Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know

5.3.52219All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:

5.3.62220"Fear not, Macbeth, no man that's born of woman

5.3.72221Shall e'er have power upon thee." Then fly false thanes

5.3.82222And mingle with the English epicures.

5.3.92223The mind I sway by and the heart I bear

5.3.102224Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.

5.3.112226The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon.

5.3.122227Where got'st thou that goose-look?

There is ten thousand--

There is ten thousand-- Geese, villain?

There is ten thousand-- Geese, villain? Soldiers, sir.

Go prick thy face and over-red thy fear,

5.3.152232Thou lily-livered boy. What soldiers, patch?

5.3.162233Death of thy soul, those linen cheeks of thine

5.3.172234Are counselors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?

The English force, so please you.

Take thy face hence.

Take thy face hence. Seyton! --I am sick at heart

5.3.202237When I behold-- Seyton, I say! --This push

5.3.212238Will cheer me ever or disseat me now.

5.3.222239I have lived long enough; my way of life

5.3.232240Is fall'n into the sere, the yellow leaf,

5.3.242241And that which should accompany old age,

5.3.252242As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,

5.3.262243I must not look to have, but in their stead

5.3.272244Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath

5.3.282245Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.

5.3.292246--Seyton!

What's your gracious pleasure?

What's your gracious pleasure? What news more?

All is confirmed, my lord, which was reported.

I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hacked.

5.3.332252Give me my armor.

Give me my armor. 'Tis not needed yet.

I'll put it on.

5.3.352255Send out more horses, skirr the country round,

5.3.362256Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armor.

5.3.372257How does your patient, Doctor?

How does your patient, Doctor? Not so sick, my lord,

5.3.382259As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies

5.3.392260That keep her from her rest.

That keep her from her rest. Cure her of that.

5.3.402262Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,

5.3.412263Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,

5.3.422264Raze out the written troubles of the brain,

5.3.432265And with some sweet oblivious antidote

5.3.442266Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff

5.3.452267Which weighs upon the heart?

Which weighs upon the heart? Therein the patient

5.3.462269Must minister to himself.

Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.

5.3.482271[To an attendant] Come, put mine armor on; give me my staff.

5.3.492272--Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.

5.3.502273[To an attendant]Come, sir, dispatch. --If thou couldst, Doctor, cast

5.3.512274The water of my land, find her disease,

5.3.522275And purge it to a sound and pristine health,

5.3.532276I would applaud thee to the very echo

5.3.542277That should applaud again. --Pull't off, I say.

5.3.552278--What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug

5.3.562279Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?

Ay, my good lord. Your royal preparation

5.3.582281Makes us hear something.

Makes us hear something. --Bring it after me.

5.3.592283I will not be afraid of death and bane

5.3.602284Till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane.

Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,

5.3.622286Profit again should hardly draw me here.