Macbeth | Page 8

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 limbec 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 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 MACBETH. Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar Upon his death?
MACBETH. I am settled, and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
[Exeunt.]

ACT II.
SCENE I. Inverness. Court within the Castle.
[Enter Banquo, preceeded by Fleance with a torch.]
BANQUO. How goes the night, boy?
FLEANCE. The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.
BANQUO. And she goes down at twelve.
FLEANCE. I take't, 'tis later, sir.
BANQUO. Hold, take my sword.--There's husbandry in heaven; Their candles are all out:--take thee that too.-- 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 a Servant with a torch.]
MACBETH. A friend.
BANQUO. What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's a-bed: He hath been in unusual pleasure and Sent forth great largess to your officers: This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up In measureless content.
MACBETH. Being unprepar'd, Our will became the servant to defect; Which else should free have wrought.
BANQUO. 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, We would spend it in some words upon that business, If you would grant the time.
BANQUO. At your kind'st leisure.
MACBETH. If you shall cleave to my consent,--when 'tis, It shall make honor for you.
BANQUO. 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!
BANQUO. Thanks, sir: the like to you!
[Exeunt Banquo and Fleance.]
MACBETH. 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 marshall'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 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 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.--Whiles 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 Macbeth.]
LADY MACBETH. That which hath made them drunk hath made me