ACT II.

SCENE, A Hall in Macbeth's Caftle.

Enter Banquo, and Fleance with a torch before him.
BANQUO.

OW goes the night, boy?

H

Fle. The moon is down: I have not

heard the clock.

Ban. And the goes down at twelve.

Fle. I take't, 'tis later, Sir.

Ban. Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in

heav'n,

Their candles are all out. - Take thee that too.
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And yet I would not fleep: Merciful Pow'rs!
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts, that nature
Gives way to in repose.

Enter Macbeth, and a fervant with a torch

Give me my fword: who's there?

Mach. A friend.

Ban. What, Sir, not yet at Rest? the King's a-bed.

He hath to night been in unusual pleafure,
And fent great largess to your officers;

This diamond he greets your wife withal,
By the name of most kind Hostess, and shut up

In measureless content.

Mach. Being unprepar'd,

Our will became the servant to defect;
Which else should free have wrought.

Ban. All's well.

I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:

To To you they've shew'd fome truth.

Mach. I think not of them;

Yet when we can intreat an hour to serve,

Would spend it in some words upon that business;

If you would grant the time.

Ban. At your kind leisure.

Mach. If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis,

It shall make honour for you.

Ban. So I lose none

In seeking to augment it, but still keep
My bosom franchis'd and allegiance clear,
I shall be counsell'd.

Mach. Good repose the while!

Ban. Thanks, Sir; the like to you. [Exeunt Banquo, [and Fleance.

Mach. 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 tow'rd 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 fight? 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 marshal'st me the way that I was going;
And fuch an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools o'th' 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 one half the world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd fleep; now 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, tow'rds his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou found and firm-fet earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my where-about;
And take the present horror from the time,

Which now suits with it whilst I threat, he lives

[A Bell rings.

Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
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

Enter Lady.

[Exit.

✓ Lady. That, which hath made them drunk, hath made

me bold:

What hath quench'd them, hath giv'n me fire. Hark!

peace!

he is about it

It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bell-man,
Which gives the stern'st good-night
The doors are open; and the furfeited grooms
Do mock their charge with snores. I've drugg'd their

Poffets,

That death and nature do contend about them,
Whether they live or die.

Enter Macbeth.

Mach. Who's there? what ho?

Lady. Alack! I am afraid, they have awak'd;
And 'tis not done; th' attempt, and not the deed,
Confounds ushark! I laid their daggers ready,
He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled
My father as he slept, I'had don't-My husband!

Mach. I've done the deed didst not thou hear a noife?

Lady. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry.

Did not you speak?

Mach. When?

Lady. Now.

Macb. As I descended?

Lady.

Lady. Ay.

Macb. Hark! who lies i'th' second chamber ?

Lady. Donalbaine.

Mach. This is a forry fight.

[Looks on his hands.

Lady. A foolish thought, to say, a forry fight.

Mach. There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cry'd,

Murther!

They wak'd each other; and I stood and heard them; But they did say their prayers, and address them Again to fleep.

Lady. There are two lodg'd together.

Mach. One cry'd, 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. Confider it not so deeply.

Mach. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen?

I had most need of blessing, and Amen
Stuck in my throat.

Lady. These deeds must not be thought,

After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

Mach. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more! Macbeth doth murther Sleep; the innocent Sleep; Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd neeve of care, The death of each day's life, fore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second Course, Chief nourisher in life's feast.

Lady. What do you mean?

Mach. Still it cry'd, Sleep no more, to all the house; Glamis hath murther'd fleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall fleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more!

Lady. Who was it, that thus cry'd? why, worthy Thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brain-fickly 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 lye there. Go, carry them, and smear The fleepy grooms with blood. Mach. I'll go no more;

I am afraid to think what I have done;
Look on't again, I dare not.

Lady. Infirm of purpose!

Give me the daggers; the sleeping and the dead
Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of child-hood,
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,

I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,

For it must seem their guilt.

Knocks within.

Mach. Whence is that knocking?

[Exit.

[Starting.

How is't with me, when every noise appals me? (15)

What hands are here? hah! they pluck out mine eyes.

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood

Clean from my hand? no, this my hand will rather

Thy multitudinous sea incarnadine,

Making the green one red

Enter Lady.

Lady. My hands are of your colour; but Ishame To wear a heart so white; I hear a knocking [Knock. At the fouth entry. Retire we to our chamber;

A little water clears us of this deed.

How eafie is it then? your constancy

Hath left you unattended-hark, more knocking!

Get on your night-gown, left occafion call us,

And shew us to be Watchers; be not loft

So poorly in your thoughts.

[Knock.

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

felf.

Wake, Duncan, with this knocking: 'would, thou couldst! [Exeunt.

(15) How is't with me, when ev'ry Noise appals me?] This Reflection is not only drawn from the Truth and Working of Nature; but is so exprest, as that it might have been copied from this Passage of SOPHOCLES, which Stobæus has quoted in his Chapter upon Fearfulness;

*Απαντα γάρ τοι τις φοβομένῳ ψοφεῖ. Each noise is fent t alarm the Man of Fear.

[Enter