To grace us with your royal company? Macb. The table 's full. Len. Here is a place reserv'd, sir. Macb. Thou canst not say I did it; never shake Thy gory locks at me. Ross. Gentlemen, rise: his Highness is not well. Lady M. Sit, worthy friends; my lord is often thus, And hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep seat; The fit is momentary; upon a thought He will again be well. If much you note him, You shall offend him and extend his passion. Feed, and regard him not. [Aside to Macbeth.] Are you a man? Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appall the devil. Lady M. [Aside to Macbeth.] O proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear; This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said, Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts, Impostors to true fear, would well be come A woman's story at a winter's fire, Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces? When all 's done, You look but on a stool. Macb. Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you? Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. If charnel-houses and our graves must send Those that we bury back, our monu ments Shall be the maws of kites. [Ghost vanishes.] Lady M. [Aside to Macbeth.] What, quite unmann'd in folly? Macb. If I stand here, I saw him. Lady M. [Aside to Macbeth.] Fie, for shame! Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, Ere humane statute purg'd the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd Too terrible for the ear. The time has been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine is blanch'd with fear. Ross. What sights, my lord? Lady M. I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse; Question enrages him. At once, goodnight. Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once. Len. Good-night; and better health Attend his Majesty! Lady M. A kind good-night to all! [Exeunt Lords. Macb. It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood. Stones have been known to move and trees to speak; Augures and understood relations have By maggot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth The secret'st man of blood. What is the night? Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which is which. Macb. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person At our great bidding? There's not a one of them but in his house I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow, And betimes I will, to the weird sisters. More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know, By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good All causes shall give way. I am in blood Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er. Strange things I have in head, that will to hand, Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd. Lady M. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands. Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seem thus washing her hands. I Macb. Come, we'll to sleep. My have known her continue in this a quar strange and self-abuse Is the initiate fear that wants hard use; We are yet but young in deed. [Exeunt. ACT V, SCENE I. Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle. Enter a DOCTOR of Physic and a Waiting GENTLEWOMAN. Doct. I have two nights watch'd with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walk'd? Gent. Since his Majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon 't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. Doct. A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching! In this slumb'ry agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say? Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her. Doct. You may to me; and 't is most meet you should. Gent. Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech. Enter LADY MACBETH, with a taper. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. Doct. How came she by that light? Gent. Why, it stood by her. She has light by her continually; 't is her command. Doct. You see, her eyes are open. ter of an hour. Lady M. Yet here's a spot. Doct. Hark! she speaks. I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say!-One: two: why, then 't is time to do 't. Hell is murky!-Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?-Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Doct. Do you mark that? Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now?-What, will these hands ne'er be clean?—No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that; you mar all with this starting. Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not. Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that; Heaven knows what she has known. Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still; all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh! Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charg'd. Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body. Doct. Well, well, well,— Doct. This disease is beyond my practice; yet I have known those which have walk'd in their sleep who have died holily in their beds. Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale.-I tell you yet again, Banquo 's buried; he cannot come out on 's grave. Doct. Even so? |