MACBETH 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.
MACBETH Bring it after me.
I will not be afraid of death and bane
Till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane.
DOCTOR Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
Profit again should hardly draw me here.
Exeunt(5.3.58-65)
A sort-of grim joke? Rueful self-awareness? Macbeth is asking the Doctor whether he knows of a laxative—as senna is, and rhubarb was thought to be—which would be powerful enough to purge Scotland of these English, scour them hence? (He is, at least partly, comparing the English to excrement; it might well have got a laugh in 1606.) The identification of Scotland as a body, as his own body, continues—but it’s Macbeth himself who must be purged from Scotland itself. Difficult, again, to know the tone of his next question: hear’st thou of them? Have you heard about the English army? Or are you one of those ivory tower experts, above such things? (‘Oh, has there been an invasion?’) But it could be, possibly, what have you heard about them? Do you have any news, can you add anything? The Doctor is, understandably, cautious: er, yes, ay, my good lord. Your royal preparation makes us hear something. Of course I’ve heard about the bloody invasion. Apart from anything else, the armourers have been making one hell of a din, and you’ve been shouting your head off just now. But Macbeth’s not listening: bring it after me, he says, presumably another instruction to Seyton, or the put-upon servants, as he makes to leave; it could be a piece of armour, or his staff. And then he repeats his mantra, as a charm, perhaps defiantly, perhaps obstinately, to himself and to his thanes and servants: I will not be afraid of death and bane till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane. Haven’t I told you? (And don’t I keep telling myself?) I’m invincible, untouchable! I have nothing to be afraid of, not even death itself, until something that is clearly impossible happens! But a final grim couplet from the Doctor: were I from Dunsinane away and clear, profit again should hardly draw me here. It’s a laugh to conclude the scene, doctors being notoriously greedy, as he says that he wishes more than anything he were out of that place, far away from Dunsinane, and he wouldn’t come back even for a vastly increased fee. Not worth the money, not worth the hassle. They’re all mad, and it’s starting to get dangerous.
