Sleepwalking Lady Macbeth's mind is overwhelmed with guilt from her complicity in the murder of Duncan. She is tormented no end.
Macbeth:
"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:
"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 diseased,
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?
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
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."
Here Shakespeare (it seems to me) anticipates Freud by about 400 years. Macbeth thought the Doctor might be able to prescribe some physic (medicine) to cure her mental affliction. The Doctor says there's no such
Must minister to himself."
Here Shakespeare (it seems to me) anticipates Freud by about 400 years. Macbeth thought the Doctor might be able to prescribe some physic (medicine) to cure her mental affliction. The Doctor says there's no such
nickel-in-the-slot therapeutic that can cure her. There's no such thing as a pill for every human malady, especially maladies of the mind. A profound insight.
Note that "thick coming fancies" - Johnson called it the "tyranny of reflection." It will keep one awake, no?
Note that "thick coming fancies" - Johnson called it the "tyranny of reflection." It will keep one awake, no?
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