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Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale :-) tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his
grave. Doct. Even so ?
Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand; What's done, cannot be undone : To bed, to bed, to bed.
[Exit Lady MACBETH. Doct. Will she go now to bed ? Gent. Directly. Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural
deeds Do breed unnatural troubles : Infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. More needs she the divine, than the physician. God, God, forgive us all! Look after her ; Remove from her the means of all annoyance, And still keep eyes upon her:-So, good night: My mind she has mated,? and amaz’d my sight: I think, but dare not speak. Gent.
Good night, good doctor.
The Country near Dunsinane.
Enter, with Drum and Colours, MESTETII, CATH,
NESS, ANGUS, LENOX, and Soldiers.
His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff.
Near Birnam wood
What does the tyrant?
Now does he feel
Who then shall blame
Well, march we on,
A religious; an ascetic.
Meet we the medecin' of the sickly weal;
Or so much as it needs,
Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.
Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants. Macb. 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 consequents, pronounc'd me thus : Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman, Shall e'er have power on thee. Then fly, false
thanes, And mingle with the English epicures : The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, Shall never sagg2 with doubt, nor shake with fear.
Enter a Servant.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon!3
Serv. There is ten thousand-
Geese, villain ?
I The physician
3 Base fellow.
Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch ?4
Serv. The English force, so please you.
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, but dare not. Seyton!
What news more?
hack'd. Give me my armour. Scy.
'Tis not needed yet. Macb. I'll put it on. Send out more horses, skirr the country round; Hang those that talk of fear.-Give me mine ar
How does your patient, doctor?
Not so sick, my lord,
4 An appellation of contempt.
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
Cure her of that:
Therein the patient Must minister to himself.
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, despatch :-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, senna, or what purgative drug, Would scour these English hence !-Hearest thou of
them? Doct. 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 forest come to Dunsinane. [Erit.
Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, Profit again should hardly draw me here. [Exit,