Dunsinane. In the castle.

Enter MACBETH, DOCTOR, and ATTENDANTS.

Macbeth. Don't bring me any more reports. I don't care if all the thanes desert me. Until Birnam Wood gets up and moves to Dunsinane, I won't be affected by fear. What's the boy Malcolm? Wasn't he born from a woman? The spirits that know the future have told me this: "Don't be afraid, Macbeth. No man born from a woman will ever defeat you." So get out of here, disloyal thanes, and join the weak and decadent English! My mind and courage will never falter with doubt or shake with fear.

Enter a SERVANT.

Macbeth. May the devil turn you black, you white-faced fool! Why do you look like a frightened goose?

Servant. There are ten thousand-

Macbeth. Geese, you idiot?

Servant. Soldiers, sir.

Macbeth. Go pinch your cheeks and bring some color back into your face, you cowardly boy. What soldiers, fool? Curse you! That pale face of yours will frighten the others as well. What soldiers, milk-face?

Servant. The English army, sir.

Macbeth. Get out of my sight.

Exit SERVANT.

Macbeth. Seyton!—I'm sick at heart when I see—Seyton, come here!—This battle will either secure my reign forever or else topple me from the throne. I have lived long enough. The course of my life is beginning to wither and fall away, like a yellowing leaf in autumn. The things that should go along with old age, like honor, love, obedience, and loyal friends, I cannot hope to have. Instead, I have passionate but quietly whispered curses, people who honor me with their words but not in their hearts, and lingering life, which my heart would gladly end, though I can't bring myself to do it. Seyton!

Enter SEYTON.

Seyton. What do you want?

Macbeth. Is there more news.

Seyton. All the rumors have been confirmed.

Macbeth. I'll fight until they hack the flesh off my bones. Give me my armor.

Seyton. You don't need it yet.

Macbeth. I'll put it on anyway. Send out more cavalry. Scour the whole country and hang anyone spreading fear. Give me my armor. How is my wife, doctor?

Doctor. She is not sick, my lord, but she is troubled with endless visions that keep her from sleeping.

Macbeth. Cure her of that. Can't you treat a diseased mind? Take away her memory of sorrow? Use some drug to erase the troubling thoughts from her brain and ease her heart?

Doctor. For that kind of relief, the patient must heal herself.

Macbeth. How would she do that?

Doctor. She needs time to relax, a place where she can find peace, otherwise... I fear she may not be able to live like this much longer.

Macbeth. You say we have to leave? At a time like this? My kingdom is about to be invaded by traitors. I cannot leave it undefended.

Doctor. I'm sorry, sir, but it may be the only way to save your wife's life.

Macbeth. If I must. Ready two horses. I will leave in an hour to out ride the army on its way. I'll do what it takes to ensure my wife lives.

Exeunt.