Macbeth Act Five, Scene Three.
Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants
MACBETH
Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with fear. What’s the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:
‘Fear not, Macbeth; no man that’s born of woman
Shall e’er have power upon thee.’ Then fly,
false thanes,
And mingle with the English epicures:
The mind I sway by and the heart I bear
Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.
Enter a Servant
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
Where got’st thou that goose look?
Servant
There is ten thousand–
Macbeth’s ironic faith in the cryptic promises of the witches about ‘Birnam wood’ and ‘no man that’s born of a woman’ fuels a defiance that the audience suspects is a hectic performance as he needs to maintain some semblance of self-control in the face of the approaching army. He dismisses the youth of Malcolm and his self-talk reminds the world by means of the word ‘taint’, that his facial pallor will only change with fear if the witches’ predictions unravel. He disparages the ‘English epicures’ allying himself to Scottish ruggedness, rather than the effete pleasure-seeking enemy from over the border. The audience senses that Macbeth’s bravado veils his mounting disquiet. (In the background, his wife is mentally floundering in private.)
Macbeth tries to appear defiant and masterly, but he knows that Malcolm and Macduff have every reason and justification for vengeance.
Macbeth’s imagination recognises the terror on the servant’s face and he tries to deploy bathetic mockery a little later to stabilise the mounting hysteria within the Castle.‘ Geese villain?’ Yet with the Seyton, he admits to time’s abandonment through the admission that his ‘way of life’ has fallen into the metaphorical state of the ‘yellow leaf.’ suggesting ensuing decay and the approaching inevitability of death. Macbeth’s repeated attempts to arrest the progression of time have failed. Ultimately as we shall witness shortly in the play, even ‘tomorrow’ holds nothing but nihilistic despair.
The mental pressure created by the possibility of bloody defeat at the hands of Malcolm’s army has not managed to destroy the imaginative brilliance of Macbeth. This wonderful facility for imaginative language remains with Macbeth until his death, in vivid contrast to the fragmented, almost nonsensical ravings of his wife.
Macbeth returns to his familiar role as a soldier and warrior at the end of the play, suggesting that all other roles have been exhausted and found wanting. This renders him a tragic figure demonstrating his monumental hubris and hamartia.
