Mach. Being unprepared,

Our will became the fervant to defect;
Which elfe fhould free have wrought.

Ban. All's well.

I dream'd last night of the three weird fitters:
To you they've fhewed fome truth.

Macb. I think not of them;

Yet when we can intreat an hour to ferve,

Would spend it in fome words upon that business,

If

you would grant the time.

Ban. At your kind leisure.

Macb. If you fhall cleave to my confent, when It fhall make honour for you.

Ban. So I lofe none

In feeking to augment it, but ftill keep
My bofom franchised and allegiance clear,

I fhall be counfelled.

Mach. Good repofe the while!

Ban. Thanks, Sir; the like to you.

['tis,

[Exeunt Banquo, and Fleance. Mach. Go, bid thy miftrefs, when my drink is She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. [ready,

[Exit Servant.

[thee,

Is this a dagger which I fee before me,
The handle tow'rd my hand? come, let me clutch
I have thee not, and yet I fee thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vifion, fenfible
To feeling, as to fight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a falfe creation
Proceeding from the heat-oppreffed brain?
I fee thee yet, in form as palpable

As this which now I draw.

Thou marshaleft 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 bufinefs, which informs

Thus to mine eyes.-Now o'er one half the world
Nature feems dead, and wicked dreams abufe
The curtain'd fleep; now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings: and withered Murder,
(Alarumed by his centinel the wolf,

Whofe howl's his watch) thus with his ftealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, tow'rds his defign
Moves like a ghoft.-Thou found and firm-fet earth,
Hear not my steps which way they walk, for fear
Thy very ftones prate of my where-about;
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now fuits with it-whilft I threat he lives.
A Bell rings.
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell

That fummons thee to heaven or to hell. [Exit.
Enter Lady.

Lady. That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold:

What hath quenched them hath given me fire. Hark! peace!

It was the owl that fhrieked, the fatal bellman, Which gives the fterneit good night-he is about

1t.-

The doors are open; and the furfeited grooms, Do mock their charge with fnores. I've drugged their poffets,

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 awaked, And 'tis not done; th' attempt and not the deed, Confounds us hark! I laid their daggers ready, He could not mifs 'em.-Had he not resembled My father as he flept, I had done't-My husband! Mach. I've done the deed-didft not thou hear a noife?

Lady. I heard the owl fcream and the crickets cry. Did not you fpeak?

Mach. When?

Lady. Now.

Mach. As I defcended?
Lady. Ay.

Macb. Hark!—who lyes i' th' fecond chamber? Lady. Donalbain.

Mach. This is a forry fight! [Looks on his hands. Lady. A foolish thought, to fay, a forry fight. Macb. There's one did laugh in's fleep, and one cried murder!

They waked each other; and I stood and heard them; But they did fay their prayers, and addrefs them Again to fleep.

Lady. There are two lodged together. [other; Mach. One cried, God blefs us! and amen the As they had feen me with thefe hangman's hands. Liftening their fear, I could not say, amen, When they did fay, God blefs us.

Lady. Confider it not fo deeply.

Mach. But wherefore could not I pronounce

I had most need of blefling, and amen

Stuck in my throat.

[amen?

Lady. Thefe deeds must not be thought After thefe ways; fo, it will make us mad. [more! Mach. Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no. Macbeth doth murder fleep; the innocent fleep; Sleep, that knits up the ravelled fleeve of care,

The death of each day's life, fore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's fecond course, Chief nourisher in life's feaft.

Lady. What do you mean?

Macb. Still it cried, fleep no more, to all the houfe; Glamis hath murdered fleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall fleep no more; Macbeth fhall fleep no more! Lady. Who was it that thus cried? why, worthy Thane,

You do unbend your noble ftrength, to think
So brain fickly of things; go, get fome water,
And wash this filthy witnefs from your hand.
Why did you bring these daggers from the place;
They must ly there. Go carry them, and smear
The fleepy grooms with blood.

Mach. 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 fleeping 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 muit feem their guilt.

[Exit.

[Knocks within.

Mach. Whence is that knocking? [Starting. How is't with me when every noise appals me? (15) What hands are here? hah! they pluck out mine eyes!

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood

(15) How is't with me when ev'ry noise appals me?\

This reflection is not only drawn from the truth and working of nature, but is fo expreffed as that it might have been copied from this paffage of Sophocles, which Stobus has quoted in his chapter upon fearfulness;

*Απανία γάρ τοι τως φοβεμένα ψοφεῖ.

Each noife is fent to alarm the man of fear.

Clean from

my hand? no, this my hand will rather

Thy multitudinous fea incarnadine,

Making the green one red———

Enter Lady.

Lady. My hands are of your colour; but I shame To wear a heart fo white; I hear a knocking

[Knock. At the fouth entry. Retire we to our chamber; A little water clears us of this deed. How easy is it then? Your conftancy Hath left you unattended.-Hark, more knocking! [Knock. Get on your nightgown, left occafion call us, And fhew us to be watchers; be not lost So poorly in your thoughts.

[myself. Mach. To know my deed, 'twere beft not know Wake, Duncan, with this knocking; 'would thou couldft!

Enter a Porter.

[Exeunt.

[Knocking within. Port. Here's a knocking indeed: if a man were porter of Hell-gate, he fhould have old turning the key. Knock.] Knock, knock, knock. Who's there, i' th' name of Beelzebub? here's a farmer that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty: come in time, have napkins enough about you, here you'll fweat for't. [Knock.] Knock, knock. Who's there, in the other devil's name? faith, here's an equivocator, (16) that could swear in both the

(16) Here's an equivocator-who committed treafon enough for God's fake, &c.] This farcafm is levelled at the Jefuits, who were fo mischievous in the reigns of Queen Elizabeth and King James 1. and who then firft broached that damnable doctrine. Mr Warburton.