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 tak't, 'tis later, sir.

Ban.
Hold, take my sword:—There's husbandry in heaven,^{1 note}
Their candles are all out.—
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? Enter Macbeth and Seyton, with a torch, L.

Macbeth.
A friend.

Ban.
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:^{2 note}
This diamond he greets your wife withal,
By the name of most kind hostess: and shut up^{3 note}
In measureless content.

Macbeth.
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 you they have show'd some truth.

Macbeth.
I think not of them:
Yet when we can entreat an hour to serve,
Would spend it in some words upon that business,
If you would grant the time.

Ban.
At your kind'st leisure.

Macbeth.
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.

Macbeth.
Good repose, the while!

Ban.
Thanks, sir; the like to you! [Exit Servant, Banquo, and Fleance, L. U. E.

Macbeth.
Go, bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.(A)8Q0166 [Exit Servant, L.
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' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still;
And on thy blade, and dudgeon,^{4 note} gouts of blood,^{5 note}

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 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. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. (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 R. D. Low thunder heard. Enter Lady Macbeth, L.

Lady M.
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, the fatal bellman,
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.

Macbeth. (within)
Who's there?—what, ho!

Lady M.
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 them.—Had he not resembled
My father as he slept, I had done't.—My husband? Enter Macbeth, R. D.

Macbeth.
I have done the deed. Did'st thou not hear a noise?

Lady M.
I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry.
Did not you speak?

Macbeth.
When?

Lady M.
Now.

Macbeth.
As I descended?

Lady M.
Ay.

Macbeth.
Hark!—
Who lies i' the second chamber?

Lady M.
Donalbain.

Macbeth.
This is a sorry sight. (looking on his hands)

Lady M.
A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

Macbeth.
There's one did laugh in his 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.

Lady M.
There are two lodg'd together.

Macbeth.
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.

Lady M.
Consider it not so deeply.

Macbeth.
But wherefore could not I pronounce, Amen?
I had most need of blessing, and Amen
Stuck in my throat.

Lady M.
These deeds must not be thought
After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

Macbeth.
Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep,
Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,^{6 note}
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast;”—

Lady M.
What do you mean?

Macbeth.
Still it cried, “Sleep no more!” to all the house:
“Glamis hath murder'd sleep; and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!”

Lady M.
Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy Thane,
You do unbend your noble strength, to think
So brainsickly 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 lie there; Go, carry them; and smear
The sleepy grooms with blood.

Macbeth.
I'll go no more:
I am afraid to think what I have done;
Look on't again I dare not.

Lady M.
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. [Exit, R. D.—pause—knocking at back heard.

Macbeth.
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 incarnardine,^{7 note}
Making the green—one red. Re-enter Lady Macbeth, R. D.

Lady M.
My hands are 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 easy is it then! Your constancy
Hath left you unattended.—(knocking) Hark! more knocking;
Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us,
And show us to be watchers;—Be not lost
So poorly in your thoughts.

Macbeth.
To know my deed,—'twere best not know myself. (knock)
Wake Duncan with thy knocking!^{8 note} Ay, 'would thou could'st! [Exeunt, L. Knocking heard louder. Enter Seyton—he opens the gate C. Enter Macduff^{9 note} and Lenox, C. gates.

Macduff.
Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
That you do lie so late?

Sey.
'Faith, sir, we are carousing till the second cock.

Macduff.
Is thy master stirring?—
Our knocking has awak'd him; here he comes. Enter Macbeth, L., and Exit Seyton.

Len.
Good morrow, noble sir!

Macbeth.
Good morrow, both.

Macduff.
Is the King stirring, worthy Thane?

Macbeth.
Not yet.

Macduff.
He did command me to call timely on him;
I have almost slipp'd the hour.

Macbeth.
I'll bring you to him.

Macduff.
I know this is a joyful trouble to you;
But yet 'tis one.

Macbeth.
The labour we delight in, in physics pain.
This is the door.

Macduff.
I'll make so bold to call,
For 'tis my limited service.^{10 note} [Exit Macduff, R. D.

Len.
Goes the king
From hence to day?

Macbeth.
He does;—he did appoint so.

Len.
The night has been unruly. Where we lay,
Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say,
Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death;
And prophecying, with accents terrible,

Of dire combustion, and confus'd events,
New hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure bird
Clamour'd the live-long night; some say, the earth
Was feverous, and did shake.

Macbeth.
'Twas a rough night.

Len.
My young remembrance cannot parallel
A fellow to it.

Macduff. (without R.)
O horror! horror! horror! Tongue, nor heart,
Cannot conceive, nor name thee! (entering)

Macbeth. Lenox.
What's the matter?

Macduff.
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
The life o' the building.

Macbeth.
What is't you say? the life?

Len.
Mean you his majesty?

Macduff.
Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
With a new Gorgon;—do not bid me speak;
See, and then speak yourselves.—Awake! awake! [Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox, R. D.
Ring the alarum-bell; Murder! and treason!
Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!
Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
And look on death itself!—up, up, and see
The great doom's image!—Malcolm! Banquo!
As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprights,
To countenance this horror! (alarm bell rings.) Enter Banquo, Rosse, Nobles, Officers, and Attendants, R. and L., as if hastily roused from sleep.
O Banquo! Banquo!
Our royal master's murder'd! Re-enter Macbeth and Lenox, R. D.

Macbeth.
Had I but died an hour before this chance,
I had liv'd 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. Enter Malcolm, R. U. E.

Mal.
What is amiss?

Macbeth.
You are, and do not know it:
The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.

Macduff.
Your royal father's murder'd.

Mal.
O, by whom?

Len.
Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done't. [Exit Malcolm, R. D.
Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood,
So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found
Upon their pillows:
They star'd, and were distracted; no man's life
Was to be trusted with them.

Macbeth.
O, yet I do repent me of my fury
That I did kill them.

Macduff.
Wherefore did you so?

Macbeth.
Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and furious,
Loyal and neutral in a moment? No man;
The expedition of my violent love
Out-ran the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan,
His silver skin laced with his golden blood;
And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature,
For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly breech'd with gore. Who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage, to make his love known?

Ban.
Fears and scruples shake us:
In the great hand of heav'n I stand; and, thence,
Against the undivulg'd pretence^{11 note} I fight
Of treasonous malice.

Macbeth.
And so do I.

All.
So all.

Macbeth.
Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i' the hall together.

All.
Well contented. [Exeunt severally, R. and L.(B)8Q0167

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