Macbeth
As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that
Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life,
And live a coward in thine own esteem,
Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,”
Like the poor cat i’ th’ adage?
MACBETH.
Pr’ythee, peace!
I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more is none.
LADY MACBETH.
What beast was’t, then,
That made you break this enterprise to me?
When you durst do it, then you were a man;
And, to be more than what you were, you would
Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place
Did then adhere, and yet you would make both:
They have made themselves, and that their fitness now
Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know
How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me:
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have pluck’d my nipple from his boneless gums
And dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn as you
Have done to this.
MACBETH.
If we should fail?
LADY MACBETH.
We fail?
But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep
(Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journey
Soundly invite him), his two chamberlains
Will I with wine and wassail so convince
That memory, the warder of the brain,
Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep
Their drenched natures lie as in a death,
What cannot you and I perform upon
Th’ unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
His spongy officers; who shall bear the guilt
Of our great quell?
MACBETH.
Bring forth men-children only;
For thy undaunted mettle should compose
Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv’d,
When we have mark’d with blood those sleepy two
Of his own chamber, and us’d their very daggers,
That they have done’t?
LADY MACBETH.
Who dares receive it other,
As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
Upon his death?
MACBETH.
I am settled, and bend up
Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
[_Exeunt._]
ACT II
SCENE I. Inverness. Court within the Castle.
Enter Banquo and Fleance with a torch before him.
BANQUO.
How goes the night, boy?
FLEANCE.
The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.
BANQUO.
And she goes down at twelve.
FLEANCE.
I take’t, ’tis later, sir.
BANQUO.
Hold, take my sword.—There’s husbandry in heaven;
Their candles are all out. Take thee that too.
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers,
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
Gives way to in repose!
Enter Macbeth and a Servant with a torch.
Give me my sword.—Who’s there?
MACBETH.
A friend.
BANQUO.
What, sir, not yet at rest? The King’s abed:
He hath been in unusual pleasure and
Sent forth great largess to your offices.
This diamond he greets your wife withal,
By the name of most kind hostess, and shut up
In measureless content.
MACBETH.
Being unprepar’d,
Our will became the servant to defect,
Which else should free have wrought.
BANQUO.
All’s well.
I dreamt last night of the three Weird Sisters:
To you they have show’d some truth.
MACBETH.
I think not of them:
Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,
We would spend it in some words upon that business,
If you would grant the time.
BANQUO.
At your kind’st leisure.
MACBETH.
If you shall cleave to my consent, when ’tis,
It shall make honour for you.
BANQUO.
So I lose none
In seeking to augment it, but still keep
My bosom franchis’d, and allegiance clear,
I shall be counsell’d.
MACBETH.
Good repose the while!
BANQUO.
Thanks, sir: the like to you.
[_Exeunt Banquo and Fleance._]
MACBETH.
Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.
[_Exit Servant._]
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:—
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall’st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o’ the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still;
And on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood,
Which was not so before.—There’s no such thing.
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes.—Now o’er the one half-world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain’d sleep. Witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate’s off’rings; and wither’d murder,
Alarum’d by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl’s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin’s ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost.—Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it.—Whiles I threat, he lives.
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
[_A bell rings._]
I go, and it is done. The bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell.
[_Exit._]
SCENE II. The same.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
LADY MACBETH.
That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold:
What hath quench’d them hath given me fire.—Hark!—Peace!
It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman,
Which gives the stern’st good night. He is about it.
The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms
Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg’d their possets,
That death and nature do contend about them,
Whether they live or die.
MACBETH.
[_Within._] Who’s there?—what, ho!
LADY MACBETH.
Alack! I am afraid they have awak’d,
And ’tis not done. Th’ attempt and not the deed
Confounds us.—Hark!—I laid their daggers ready;
He could not miss ’em.—Had he not resembled
My father as he slept, I had done’t.—My husband!
Enter Macbeth.
MACBETH.
I have done the deed.—Didst thou not hear a noise?
LADY MACBETH.
I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.
Did not you speak?
MACBETH.
When?
LADY MACBETH.
Now.
MACBETH.
As I descended?
LADY MACBETH.
Ay.
MACBETH.
Hark!—Who lies i’ th’ second chamber?
LADY MACBETH.
Donalbain.
MACBETH.
This is a sorry sight.
[_Looking on his hands._]
LADY MACBETH.
A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
MACBETH.
There’s one did laugh in’s sleep, and one cried, “Murder!”
That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them.
But they did say their prayers, and address’d them
Again to sleep.
LADY MACBETH.
There are two lodg’d together.
MACBETH.
One cried, “God bless us!” and, “Amen,” the other,
As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands.
List’ning their fear, I could not say “Amen,”
When they did say, “God bless us.”
LADY MACBETH.
Consider it not so deeply.
MACBETH.
But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”?
I had most need of blessing, and “Amen”
Stuck in my throat.
LADY MACBETH.
These deeds must not be thought
After these ways; so, it will make us mad.
MACBETH.
Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep,”—the innocent sleep;
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 MACBETH.
What do you mean?
MACBETH.
Still it cried, “Sleep no more!” to all the house:
“Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more!”
LADY MACBETH.
Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,
You do unbend your noble strength to think
So brainsickly of things. Go get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.—
Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
They must lie there: go carry them, and smear
The sleepy grooms with blood.
MACBETH.
I’ll go no more:
I am afraid to think what I have done;
Look on’t again I dare not.
LADY MACBETH.
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.
[_Exit. Knocking within._]
MACBETH.
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 incarnadine,
Making the green one red.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
LADY MACBETH.
My hands are of your color, but I shame
To wear a heart so white. [_Knocking within._] I hear knocking
At 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 within._] Hark, more knocking.
Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us
And show us to be watchers. Be not lost
So poorly in your thoughts.
MACBETH.
To know my deed, ’twere best not know myself. [_Knocking within._]
Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE III. The same.
Enter a Porter. Knocking within.
PORTER.
Here’s a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell gate, he should
have old turning the key. [_Knocking._] Knock, knock, knock. Who’s
there, i’ th’ name of Belzebub? Here’s a farmer that hanged himself on
the expectation of plenty: come in time; have napkins enow about you;
here you’ll sweat for’t. [_Knocking._] Knock, knock! Who’s there, i’
th’ other devil’s name? Faith, here’s an equivocator, that could swear
in both the scales against either scale, who committed treason enough
for God’s sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come in,
equivocator. [_Knocking._] Knock, knock, knock! Who’s there? Faith,
here’s an English tailor come hither, for stealing out of a French
hose: come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose. [_Knocking._]
Knock, knock. Never at quiet! What are you?—But this place is too cold
for hell. I’ll devil-porter it no further: I had thought to have let in
some of all professions, that go the primrose way to th’ everlasting
bonfire. [_Knocking._] Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.
[_Opens the gate._]
Enter Macduff and Lennox.
MACDUFF.
Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
That you do lie so late?
PORTER.
Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock; and drink, sir, is
a great provoker of three things.
MACDUFF.
What three things does drink especially provoke?
PORTER.
Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes
and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the
performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with
lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes
him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and
not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and giving him
the lie, leaves him.
MACDUFF.
I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.
PORTER.
That it did, sir, i’ the very throat on me; but I requited him for his
lie; and (I think) being too strong for him, though he took up my legs
sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him.
MACDUFF.
Is thy master stirring?
Enter Macbeth.
Our knocking has awak’d him; here he comes.
LENNOX.
Good morrow, noble sir!
MACBETH.
Good morrow, both!
MACDUFF.
Is the King stirring, worthy thane?
MACBETH.
Not yet.
MACDUFF.
He did command me to call timely on him.
I have almost slipp’d the hour.
MACBETH.
I’ll bring you to him.
MACDUFF.
I know this is a joyful trouble to you;
But yet ’tis one.
MACBETH.
The labour we delight in physics pain.