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To cure this deadly grief.
Macd. He has no children.-All my pretty ones? Did
you say all ?-0 hell-kite !-All?(103) What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop?
Mal. Dispute it like a man.
I shall do so;
Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
Macd. 0, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
This tune goes manly. (105)
SCENE I. Dunsinane. A room in the castle.
Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman.
Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked ?
Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon’t, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.
Doct. A great perturbation in nature,—to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching !-In this slumbery agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say?
Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her.
Gent. Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech.-Lo you, here she comes !
Enter Lady MACBETH, with a taper. This is her very guise ; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.
Doct. How came she by that light?
Gent. Why, it stood by her : she has light by her continually ; 'tis her command. Doct. You
eyes are open.
Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.
Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands: I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.
Lady M. Yet here's a spot.
Doct. Hark! she speaks : I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.
Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say !-One, two; why, then 'tis time to do't.-Hell is murky!—Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afеard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account ?-Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?
Doct. Do you mark that?
Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now?_What, will these hands ne'er be clean ?-No more o' that
, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.
Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.
Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: heaven knows what she has known.
Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still : all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh!
Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.
Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body.
Doct. Well, well, well,
Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds.
Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale :- I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on’s grave.
Doct. Even so ?
Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate : come, come, come, come, give me your hand : what's done cannot be undone: to bed, to bed, to bed.
[Exit. Doct. Will she go now to bed ? Gent. Directly.
Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad : unnatural deeds
SCENE II. The country near Dunsinane. Enter, with drum and colours, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, Angus,
LENNOX, and Soldiers.
Near Birnam wood
Caith. Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?
Len. For certain, sir, he is not : I've a file
What does the tyrant ?
Now does he feel
Who, then, shall blame
Well, march we on,
Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds.
SCENE III. Dunsinane. A room in the castle.
Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants. Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all : Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm ? Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know All mortal consequences have pronounc'd me thus, “ Fear not, Macbeth ; no man that's born of woman Shall e'er have power upon thee.”—Then fly, false thanes, And mingle with the English epicures : The mind I sway by and the heart I bear Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. There is ten thousand-
Macb. Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Serv. The English force, so please you.
Seyton !—I'm sick at heart,