Macbeth Page #2

---

does approve, by his loved mansionry,

that the heaven's breath smells wooingly here.

No jutty, frieze, buttress, nor coign of vantage,

but this bird hath made his pendent bed

and procreant cradle,

where they most breed and haunt,

I have observed, the air is delicate.

If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well

it were done quickly.

If the assassination could trammel up the consequence

and catch with his surcease success,

that but this blow might be the be-all and the end-all here.

But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,

we'ld jump the life to come.

But in these cases we still have judgment here

that we but teach bloody instructions,

which, being taught, return to plague the inventor

this even-handed justice commends

the ingredients of our poison'd chalice

to our own lips.

When in swinish sleep their drenched natures lie as in a death,

what cannot you and I perform upon the unguarded Duncan?

What not put upon his spongy officers,

who shall bear the guilt of our great quell?

Bring forth men-children only;

For thy undaunted mettle should compose nothing but males.

Fiten!

Will it not be received, when we have mark'd with blood

those sleepy two of his own chamber

and used their very daggers, that they have done't?

Who dares receive it other, as we shall make

our griefs and clamour roar upon his death?

Leave all the rest to me.

How goes the night, boy?

The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.

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!

Give me my sword.

Who's there?

A friend.

What, sir, not yet at rest?

The king's a-bed.

He hath been in unusual pleasure, and

sent forth great largess to your offices.

This diamond he greets your wife withal.

I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:

To you they have show'd some truth.

I think not of them.

Good repose the while!

Thanks, sir:
the like to you!

Now o'er the one halfworld nature seems dead,

and wicked dreams abuse the curtain'd sleep.

witchcraft celebrates pale Hecate's offerings,

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.

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.

Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;

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 still, and on thy blade and dudgeon

gouts of blood,

which was not so before.

There's no such thing.

What news?

The doors are open;

and the surfeited grooms do mock

their charge with snores.

We will proceed no further in this business.

Was the hope drunk wherein you dress'd yourself?

hath it slept since?

and wakes it now, to look so green and pale

on what it did so freely?

From this time such I account thy love.

Art thou afeard to be the same in thine own act

and valour as thou art in desire?

I dare do all that may become a man;

who dares do more is none.

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.

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.

If we should fail?

We fail!

But screw your courage to the sticking-place,

and we'll not fail.

Thou sure and firm-set earth,

hear not my steps, which way they walk,

for fear thy very stones prate of my whereabout.

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.

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.

He is about it.

Who's there? What, ho!

Alack!

I am afraid they have awaked,

and 'tis not done.

The attempt and not the deed confounds us.

Hark!

I laid their daggers ready; he could not miss 'em.

I have done the deed.

Didst thou not hear a noise?

I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.

Did not you speak? /When?

/Now.

As I descended?/ Ay.

/Hark!

This is a sorry sight.

A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

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.

There are two lodged together.

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!'

Consider it not so deeply.

But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'?

I had most need of blessing,

and 'Amen' stuck in my throat.

These deeds must not be thought after these ways;

so, it will make us mad.

Had I but died an hour before this chance,

I had lived a blessed time

for, from this instant, there 's

nothing serious in mortality:

All is but toys:
renown and grace is dead;

the wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees is

left this vault to brag of.

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.

I'll go no more.

I am afraid to think what I have done.

Look on't again I dare not.

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.

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 in incarnadine,

making the green one red.

My hands are of your colour;

but I shame to wear a heart so white.

Retire we to our chamber;

A little water clears us of this deed.

How easy is it, then!

Hark! More knocking.

Get on your nightgown lest occasion call us,

and show us to be watchers.

To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.

Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!

Who's there?

Knock, knock! Never at quiet!

Knock, knock! Knock, knock! Knock!

It is Macduff!

Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, that you do lie so late?

Faith sir, we were carousing till the second cock.

Is thy master stirring?

Rate this script:4.0 / 2 votes