SCENE VII.

The fame. A Room in the Caftle.

Hautbays and torches. Enter, and pass over the ftage, a fewer, and divers fervants with dishes and fervice.

enter MACBETH.

Then

Mach. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: If the affaffination

Could trammel up the confequence, and catch,
With his furcease, success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and fhoal of time,-
We'd jump the life to come.-But, in these cases,
We still have judgment here; that we but teach
Bloody inftructions, which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor: This even-handed justice
Commends the ingredients of our poifon'd chalice
To our own lips. He's here in double trust:
First, as
I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed; then, as his hoft,
Who fhould against his murderer fhut the door,
Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties fo meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongu'd, against
The deep damnation of his taking-off:
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd
Upon the fightless couriers of the air,

Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,

That tears shall drown the wind. I have no fpur
To prick the fides of my intent, but only

Vaulting

Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself,

And falls on the other.-How now! what news?

Enter Lady MACBETH.

Lady M. He has almost supp'd; Why have you left the

chamber?

Macb. Hath he ask'd for me?

Lady M.

Know you not, he has ? ̈
Mach. We will proceed no further in this business:
He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought
Golden opinions from all forts of people,

Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
Not caft aside so foon.

Lady M.

Was the hope drunk,

Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept fince ?
And wakes it now, to look fo green and pale
At what it did fo freely? From this time,
Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard
To be the fame in thine own act and valour,
As thou art in defire? Would'st thou have that
Which thou efteem'ft the ornament of life,
And live a coward in thine own esteem;
Letting I dare not wait upon I would,
Like the poor cat i' the adage?

Macb.

Pr'ythee, peace:

dare do all that may become a man;

Who dares do more, is none.

Lady M.

That made

What beast was it then,

you break this enterprize to me? When you durft do it, then you were a man ; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be fo much more the man. Nor time, nor place, Did then adhere, and yet you would make both : They have made themselves, and that their fitness now

C

Does

Does unmake you. I have given fuck; and know
How tender 'tis, to love the babe that milks me :
I would, while it was fmiling in my face,
Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dafh'd the brains out, had I fo fworn, as you
Have done to this.

Macb.
Lady M.

If we should fail,

We fail!
But fcrew your courage to the sticking-place,
And we'll not fail. When Duncan is afleep,
(Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey
Soundly invite him,) his two chamberlains
Will I with wine and waffel fo convince,
That memory, the warder of the brain,
Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
A limbeck only: When in fwinish fleep
Their drenched natures lie, as in a death,
What cannot you and I perform upon
The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
His fpungy officers; who fhall bear the guilt
Of our great quell?

Macb.

Bring forth men-children only! For thy undaunted mettle should compose

Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv'd,

When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
Of his own chamber, and us'd their very daggers,
That they have don't?

Lady M.

Who dares receive it other,

As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
Upon his death?

Macb.

I am settled, and bend up

Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.

Away, and mock the time with fairest fhow:

Falfe face muft hide what the falfe heart doth know.

[Exeunt.

ACT

ACT II. SCENE I.

The fame. Court within the Castle.

Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE; and a Servant, with a torch before them.

Ban. How goes the night, boy?

Fle. The moon is down; I have not heard the clock. Ban. And fhe goes down at twelve.

Fle.

I take't, 'tis later, fir.

Ban. Hold, take my fword:-There's husbandry in

heaven,

Their candles are all out.-Take thee that too.
A heavy fummons lies like lead upon me,

And yet I would not fleep: Merciful powers!
Restrain in me the curfed thoughts, that nature
Gives way to in repose !-Give me my sword ;-

Enter MACBETH, and a Servant with a torch.
Who's there?

Macb. A friend.

Ban. What, fir, not yet at reft? The king's a-bed: He hath been in unufual pleasure, and

Sent forth great largess to your offices:

This diamond he greets your wife withal,

By the name of most kind hostess; and shut 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 weird fifters:
To you they have show'd fome truth.
C 2

Macb.

Macb.

I think not of them:

Yet, when we can entreat an hour to ferve,
Would spend it in fome words upon that business,

If you would grant the time.

Ban. At your kind'ft leifure. Macb. If you fhall cleave to my confent,-when 'tis, It shall make honour for you.

Ban.

So I lofe none,

In seeking to augment it, but fill keep
My bofom franchis'd, and allegiance clear,
I fhall be counsel'd.

Macb.

Good repose, the while!

Ban. Thanks, fir; 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 fee 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, fenfible

To feeling, as to fight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind; a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppreffed brain?
I fee 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 inftrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other fenfes,
Or else worth all the reft: I fee thee ftill;

And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood,
Which was not fo before.-There's no fuch thing:
It is the bloody business, which informs

Thus to mine eyes.-Now o'er the one half world
Nature feems dead, and wicked dreams abuse

The