Monologue

Macbeth Monologue

From Macbeth by William Shakespeare

male · dark · 1:32 min

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Cure her of that: Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas’d, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff’d bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart? (DOCTOR: Therein the patient Must minister to himself.) Throw physic 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 couldst, 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? Hear’st thou of them? (DOCTOR: Ay, my good lord. Your royal preparation Makes us hear something.) Bring it after me.— I will not be afraid of death and bane, Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. (Exeunt all except Doctor.)

About this piece

Macbeth, in a moment of desperation, rejects medical help and seeks to arm himself for the impending conflict, revealing his deep sense of isolation and fear as he faces the rebellion against his rule.

30s · despair · power · madness · isolation

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