MACBETH
16 Go prick thy face and over-red thy fear, 17 Thou lily-livered boy. What soldiers, patch?
Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
Are counselors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?
SERVANT
20 The English force, so please you.
MACBETH
Take thy face hence. [Exit Servant.]
Seyton!-I am sick at heart,
22 When I behold-Seyton, I say!-This push 23 Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
I have lived long enough. My way of life
25 Is fall'n into the sere, the yellow leaf, And that which should accompany old age,
As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath,
30 Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Seyton!
Enter Seyton.
SEYTON
What's your gracious pleasure?
MACBETH What news more?
SEYTON
All is confirmed, my lord, which was reported.
MACBETH
I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hacked.
Give me my armor.
SEYTON 'Tis not needed yet.
MACBETH
I'll put it on.
37 Send out more horses, skirr the country round, Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armor.