Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. [Exit. Lady M. That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold: What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire:Peace! Hark! It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, That death and nature do contend about them, Macb. [Within.] Who's there?-what, ho! Lady M. Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd, And 'tis not done:-the attempt, and not the deed, Confounds us :-Hark!-I laid their daggers ready, He could not miss them.-Had he not resembled My father as he slept. I had done't.-My husband? Enter MACBETH. a noise? Macb. I have done the deed:-Didst thou not hear [cry. Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets Did not you speak? Macb. When? Lady M. Now. Macb. This is a sorry sight. Donalbain. [Looking on his Hands. Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried, murder! [them: That they did wake each other; I stood and heard But they did say their prayers, and address'd them Again to sleep. Lady M. There are two lodg'd together. Macb. One cried, God bless us! and, Amen, the other; As they had seen me, with these hangman's hands. Listening their fear, I could not say, amen, When they did say, God bless us. Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce, amen? I had most need of blessing, and amen Stuck in my throat. Lady M. These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad. * As if. Ꭰ Ꭰ Macb. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep; [more! Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave* of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast ; Lady M. What do you mean? Macb. Still it cried, Sleep no more! to all the house: Glamis hath murder'd sleep; and therefore Cawdor You do unbend your noble strength, to think Macb. I'll go no more: Lady M. Infirm of purpose? Give me the daggers: The sleeping and the dead, Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood, That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt. Macb. [Exit. Knocking within. Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnardine †, Making the green one red. Re-enter Lady MACBETH. Lady M. My hands are of your colour; but I shame * Sleave is unwrought silk. ↑ To incarnardine is to stain of a flesh colour. To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a knocking [knocking: Hath left you unattended. [Knocking.] Hark! more Macb. To know my deed,-'twere best not know myself. could'st! [Knock. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! Ay, would thou [Exeunt. ACT III. MACBETH'S GUILTY CONSCIENCE, AND FEARS OF BANQUO. Lady M. How now, my lord; why do you keep alone, Of sorriest* fancies your companions making? Using those thoughts, which should indeed have died With them they think on? Things without remedy Should be without regard: what's done, is done. Macb. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it; She'll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. But let The frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, In restless ecstasyt. Duncan is in his grave; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, * O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Lady M. What's to be done! Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed. Come, sealing§ night, And, with thy bloody and invisible hand, Which keeps me pale!-Light thickens; and the crow Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse. THE BANQUET SCENE. Lady M. My royal lord, You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold, That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making, 'Tis given with welcome: To feed, were best at home; From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony; Meeting were bare without it. Macb. Sweet remembrancer! Now, good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both! i. e. The copy, the lease, by which they hold their lives from nature, has its time of termination. ↑ The beetle borne in the air by its shards or scaly wings. § Blinding. A term of endearment. |