Made to his miftrefs' eye-brow. Then a foldier: age fhifts Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the juftice, Is fecond childishnefs, and mere oblivion, Duke Sen. Welcome. Set down your venerable burden, And let him feed. Orla. I thank you most for him. Adam. So had you need. I fcarce can speak to thank you for myself. Duke Sen. Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you, As yet to question you about your fortunes. Give us fame mufic; and, good coufin, fing. No. IV. MACBETH. ACT II. SCENE 11. MACBETH. Go, bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, She ftrike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. Is this a dagger which I fee before me, [Exit Serv. The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I fee thee ftill. A dagger A dagger of the mind, a falfe creation Thou marshal'ft me the way that I was going; Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other fenfes, Thus to mine eyes.-Now o'er one half the world Whofe howl's his watch, thus with his ftealthy pace, I Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell 'That fummons thee to heaven, or to hell.. Enter Lady Macbeth. A bell ring. [Exi Lady. That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold; What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire. Hark! peace! Enter Macbeth. whatsho!: Lady Mach. Who's there? Lady. Alack! I'm afraid, they have awak'd; Macb. When? Lady. Now. Macb. As I defcended? Lady. Ay. Macb. Hark!—who lies P the second 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 his fleep, and one cry'd, Murther! They wak'd each other; and I ftood and heard them; Lady. There are two lodg'd together. Mach. One cry'd, God bless us! and Amen! the other; As they had feen me with thefe hangman's hands, Listening their fear, I could not fay, Amen, When they did fay, God bless us. Lady. Confider it not fo deeply. Mach. But wherefore could I not pronounce, Amen? I had moft need of bleffing, and Amen Stuck in my throat. Lady. Thefe deeds muft not be thought, After thefe ways; fo it will make us mad. Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more! Macbeth doth muxther fleep; the innocent fleep; Sleep that knits up the ravell'd 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 cry'd, fleep no more, to all the houfe: Glamis hath murther'd fleep. And therefore Cawdor Shall Shall fleep no more; Macbeth hall fleep no more! Macb. I'll go no more. I am afraid to think what I have done; Lady. Infirm of purpose ; Give me the daggers. The fleeping and the dead For it must seem their gullt. Knocks within. Mach. Whence is that knocking! How is it with me, when every noife appals me? [Exit [Starting What hands are here? Hah! they pluck out mine eyes. Making the green one red Enter Lady. Lady. My hands are of your colour; but I fhame How easy is it then! Your conftancy [Knock Hath left you unattended-Hark, more knocking! [Kn So poorly in your thoughts. Macb. To know my deed, 'twere beft not know myself. Wake, Duncan, with this knocking. Would thou couldt! [Exeunt. ACT N°. V.-MACBETH. CT III. SCENE IV. A Room of State in the Castle. Banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Roffe, Lords, and Attendants. MACBETH. OU know your own degrees, fit down: first and last, the hearty welcome. Lords. Thanks to your Majefty. Macb. Our felf will mingle with fociety, d play the humble hoft; r hoftefs keeps her ftate, but in beft time t e will require her welcome. [They fit. Lady. Pronounce it for me, Sir, to all our friends; r my heart speaks, they're welcome. Enter firft Murtherer. Mach. See they encounter thee with their hearts thanks. oth fides are even. Here I'll fit i' the midft. e large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure he table round. There's blood upon thy face. [To the Murtherer, afide, at the door. Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then. Mach. 'Tis better thee without,, than he within. he dispatch'd? Mur. My Lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him. Macb. Thou art the best of cut-throats; yet hat did the like for Fleance; if thou didst it, Chou art the non-pareil. Mur. Moft royal Sir, Fleance is fcap'd. he's good, Macb. Then comes my fit again: I had elfe been perfect; Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, As broad, and general, as the cafing air: But now I'm cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in To faucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's fafe?- The leaft a death to Nature. e Mack. |