Macbeth

epub:type="z3998:persona">Lady Macbeth And when goes hence? Macbeth To-morrow, as he purposes. Lady Macbeth

O, never
Shall sun that morrow see!
Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under’t. He that’s coming
Must be provided for: and you shall put
This night’s great business into my dispatch;
Which shall to all our nights and days to come
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.

Macbeth We will speak further. Lady Macbeth

Only look up clear;
To alter favour ever is to fear:
Leave all the rest to me. Exeunt.

Scene VI

Before Macbeth’s castle.

	Hautboys and torches. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lennox, Macduff, Ross, Angus, and Attendants.
Duncan	This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses.
Banquo	This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s breath Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle: Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, The air is delicate.
	Enter Lady Macbeth.
Duncan	See, see, our honour’d hostess! The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you How you shall bid God ’ild us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble.
Lady Macbeth	All our service In every point twice done and then done double Were poor and single business to contend Against those honours deep and broad wherewith Your majesty loads our house: for those of old, And the late dignities heap’d up to them, We rest your hermits.
Duncan	Where’s the thane of Cawdor? We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose To be his purveyor: but he rides well; And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, We are your guest to-night.
Lady Macbeth	Your servants ever Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt, To make their audit at your highness’ pleasure, Still to return your own.
Duncan	Give me your hand; Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly, And shall continue our graces towards him. By your leave, hostess. Exeunt.

Scene VII

Macbeth’s castle.

	Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers Servants with dishes and service, and pass over the stage. Then enter Macbeth.
Macbeth	If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well It were done quickly: if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We’ld jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison’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 host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off; And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubim, horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself And falls on the other.
	Enter Lady Macbeth.
	How now! what news?
Lady Macbeth	He has almost supp’d: why have you left the chamber?
Macbeth	Hath he ask’d for me?
Lady Macbeth	Know you not he has?
Macbeth	We will proceed no further in this business: He hath honour’d me of late; and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon.
Lady Macbeth	Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress’d yourself? hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem’st 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?
Macbeth	Prithee, peace: I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none.
Lady Macbeth	What beast was’t, then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so 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 Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck’d my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Macbeth	If we should fail?
Lady Macbeth	We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep⁠— Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journey Soundly invite him⁠—his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lie as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell?
Macbeth	Bring forth men-children only; For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be received, When we have mark’d with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber and used their very daggers, That they have done’t?
Lady Macbeth	Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar Upon his death?
Macbeth	I