No More Learning

I haue liu'd long enough: my way of life
Is falne into the Seare, the yellow Leafe,
And that which should accompany Old-Age,
As Honor, Loue, Obedience, Troopes of Friends,
I must not looke to haue: but in their steed,
Curses, not lowd but deepe, Mouth-honor, breath
Which the poore heart would faine deny, and dare not.
Seyton?
Enter Seyton.

Sey. What's your gracious pleasure?
Macb. What Newes more?
Sey. All is confirm'd my Lord, which was reported

Macb. Ile fight, till from my bones, my flesh be hackt.
Giue me my Armor

Seyt. 'Tis not needed yet

Macb. Ile put it on:
Send out moe Horses, skirre the Country round,
Hang those that talke of Feare. Giue me mine Armor:
How do's your Patient, Doctor?
Doct.
Not so sicke my Lord,
As she is troubled with thicke-comming Fancies
That keepe her from her rest

Macb. Cure of that:
Can'st thou not Minister to a minde diseas'd,
Plucke from the Memory a rooted Sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the Braine,
And with some sweet Obliuious Antidote
Cleanse the stufft bosome, of that perillous stuffe
Which weighes vpon the heart?
Doct. Therein the Patient
Must minister to himselfe

Macb. Throw Physicke to the Dogs, Ile none of it.
Come, put mine Armour on: giue me my Staffe:
Seyton, send out: Doctor, the Thanes flye from me:
Come sir, dispatch. If thou could'st Doctor, cast
The Water of my Land, finde her Disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine Health,
I would applaud thee to the very Eccho,
That should applaud againe. Pull't off I say,
What Rubarb, Cyme, or what Purgatiue drugge
Would scowre these English hence: hear'st y of them?
Doct. I my good Lord: your Royall Preparation
Makes vs heare something

Macb. Bring it after me:
I will not be affraid of Death and Bane,
Till Birnane Forrest come to Dunsinane

Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away, and cleere,
Profit againe should hardly draw me heere.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe,
Seywards Sonne,
Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, and Soldiers Marching.