Macbeth's Castle.
Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a 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 night-gown
upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it,
write upon it, 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 slumbry 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 'tis most meet you
should.
Gent.
Neither to you, nor any one, having no witness
to confirm my speech.
Enter Lady Macbeth, with a Taper.* note
Lo, you! here she comes: this is her very guise, and,
upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.
-- 60 --
Doct.
How came she by that light?
Gent.
Why it stood by her: she has light by her
continually, 'tis her command.
Doct.
You see her eyes are open.
Gent.
Ay, but their sense is shut.
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 have known her continue
in this, a quarter of an hour.
Lady.
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.
Out! damned spot; out, I say—one, two:
why then 'tis time to do't—hell is murky. Fy, my
lord, fy, a soldier and afraid! what need we fear who
knows it, when none can call our power to account?—
yet who could have thought the old man to have had
so much blood in him?* note
Doct.
Do you mark that?
Lady.
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 marr 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.
Here's the smell of the blood still: all the
perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
Oh! oh! oh!† note
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.
-- 61 --
Doct.
Well, well, well—
Gent.
Pray Heav'n it be, sir.
Lady.
Wash your hands; put on your night-gown;
look not so pale—I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried;
he cannot come out of his grave.
Doct.
Even so?
Lady.
To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the
gate: come, come, come, come, give me your hand:
what's done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to
bed.
[Exit Lady.
Doct.
Will she go now to bed?
Gent.
Directly.
Doct.
Foul whisperings are abroad; unnatural deeds
Do breed unnat'ral troubles. Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the divine, than the physician.
Good Heav'n, forgive us all! look after her;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night.
I think, but dare not speak.
Gent.
Good-night, good doctor.* note
[Exeunt.
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
