Ban.

How goes the Night, Boy?

Fle.

The Moon is down: I have not heard the Clock.

Ban.
And she goes down at Twelve.

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

Ban.
Hold, take my Sword; there's Husbandry in Heaven,
Their Candles are all out.—Take thee that too.
A heavy Summons lyes 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?

Macb.
A Friend.

Ban.
What, Sir, not yet at rest? The King's a-bed,
He hath been in unusual Pleasure.
And sent forth a great Largess to your Officers,
This Diamond he greets your Wife withal,
By the Name of most kind Hostess,
And shut it up in measureless Content.

Macb.
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 weyward Sisters;
To you they have shew'd some Truth.

Macb.
I think not of them;
Yet when we can intreat an Hour to serve
We would spend it some Words upon that Business,
If you would grant the time.

Ban.
At your kind Leisure.

Macb.
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.

Macb.
Good Repose the while.

Ban.
Thanks, Sir; the like to you. [Exit Banquo.

Macb.
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 marshal'st me the way that I was going,
And such 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 the one half world
Nature seems dead, and wicked Dreams abuse
The Curtain'd sleep; now Witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's Offerings, and wither'd Murther,
Alarum'd by his Sentinel, the Wolf,
Whose howl's his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing sides, towards his Design
Moves like a Ghost. Thou soun[illeg.] and firm-set 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;
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. Enter Lady.

Lady.
That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold:
What hath quencht them, hath given me Fire. Hark! Peace!
It was the Owl that shriek'd, the fatal Bell-Man,
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. Enter Macbeth.

Macb.
Who's there? What ho?—

Lady.
Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd,
And 'tis not done; the 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 don't—My Husband!

Macb.
I have done the deed—Didst not thou hear a Noise?

Lady.
I heard the Owl scream, and the Crickets cry.
Did not you speak?

Macb.
When?

Lady.
Now.

Macb.
As I descended?

Lady.
Ay.

Macb.
Hark!—who lyes i'th' second Chamber?

Lady.
Donalbaine.

Macb.
This is a sorry sight.

Lady.
A foolish Thought, to say a sorry sight.

Macb.
There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cry'd Murther,
That they did wake each other; I stood, and heard them;
But they did say their Prayers, and addrest them
Again to sleep.

Lady.
There are two lodg'd together.

Macb.
One cry'd, God bless us, and Amen the other,
As they had seen me with these Hangman's Hands,
Listning their Fear; I could not say Amen,
When they did say, God bless us.

Lady.
Consider it not so deeply.

Macb.
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.

Macb.
Methought I heard a Voice cry, Sleep no more;
Macbeth does murther sleep, the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd Sleeve of Care,
The Death of each day's Life, sore Labours Bath,

Balm of hurt Minds, great Nature's second Course,
Chief Nourisher in Life's Feast.

Lady.
What do you mean?

Macb.
Still it cry'd, Sleep no more, to all the House;
Glamis hath murther'd Sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep 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-sickly 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 sleepy Grooms with Blood.

Macb.
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. [Exit. Knock within.

Macb.
Whence is that Knocking? [Starting.
How is't with me, when every Noise appalls me?
What Hands are here? Hah! they pluck out mine Eyes.
Will all great Neptune's Ocean was this Blood
Clean from my Hand? No, this my Hand will rather
The multitudinous Sea incarnadine,
Making the green one red. Enter Lady.

Lady.
My Hands are of your Colour; but I shame
To wear a Heart so white. [Knock.
I hear a Knocking at the South Entry;
Retire we to our Chamber;
A little Water clears us of this deed.
How easie is it then? Your Constancy
Hath left you unattended.
Hark, more Knocking. [Knock.
Get on your Night-Gown, lest occasion call us,

And shew us to be Watchers; be not lost
So poorly in your thoughts.

Macb.
To know my deed, [Knock.
'Twere best not know my self.
Wake Duncan with this Knocking;
I would thou could'st. [Exeunt. Enter a Porter. [Knocking within.

Port.

Here's a Knocking indeed: If a Man were Porter of Hell-Gate, he should have old turning the Key. Knock. Knock, knock, knock. Who's there, i'th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd himself on th'expectation of Plenty: Come in time, have Napkins enough about you, here you'll sweat for't. Knock. Knock, knock, Who's there in th' other Devils 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: Oh come in, Equivocator. Knock. Knock, knock, knock. Who's there? Faith, here's an English Taylor come hither for stealing out of a French Hose: Come in, Taylor, here you may roast your Goose. Knock. 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. Knock. Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter.