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Scene III] Macbeth 109 

Macbeth. What news more? 30 

Seyton. All is confirmed, my lord, which was 
reported. 

Macbeth. I'll fight till from my bones my flesh 
be hack'd. 
Give me my armour. 

Seyton. Tis not needed yet. 

Macbeth. I'll put it on. 
Send out moe horses, skirr the country round; 
Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine ar- 
mour. 
How does your patient, doctor? 

Doctor. Not so sick, my lord, 

As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, 
That keep her from her rest. 

Macbeth. Cure her of that. 

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd, 40 

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. 

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

32. Find other instances of Macbeth's physical bravery 
throughout this srene.