Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd their possets, 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. Macb. I have done the deed:-Didst thou not hear a noise? Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets Did not you speak? [cry. Macb. When? 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. Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce, Consider it not so deeply. [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. Macb. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep; Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleavet of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's sccond 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: I am afraid to think what I have done; Lady M. Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: The sleeping, and the dead * As if. +Sleave, is unwrought silk. Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood, 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 raThe multitudinous seas incarnardine*, Making the green one red. Re-enter Lady MACBETH. [ther Lady M. My hands are of your colour; but I shame [ing To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a knockAt the south entry :-retire we to our chamber: A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended.-[Knocking.] Hark! more knocking: Get on your night-gown, lest occasion call us, Macb. To know my deed,-'twere best not know myself. [Knock. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! Ay, 'would thou couldst ! [Exeunt. *To incarnardine is, to stain of a flesh colour. АСТ 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, grave; That shake us nightly: Better be with the dead, O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. Lady M. But in them nature's copy's not eternet. Macb. There's comfort yet; they are assailable; Then be thou jocund: Ere the bat hath flown + Agony. i. e. The copy, the lease, by which they hold their lives from nature, has its time of termination. *Most melancholy His cloister'd flight; ere, to black Hecate's sum mons, The shard-borne beetle*, with his drowsy hums, Lady M. What's to be done? [chuckt. And, with thy bloody and invisible hand, 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; Macb. Sweet remembrancer! Now, good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both! Len. May it please your highness sit? [The Ghost of BANQUO rises, and sits in MACBETH'S place. Macb. Here had we now our country's honour roof'd, Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present; *The beetle borne in the air by its shards or scaly wings. A term of endearment. Blinding. |