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Enur Lady Mackbuh with a taper. L.M._One; Two; why, then tis

time to dot: _Hell is murky: Publishd bu F. & C. Rivington London Nov. 15.1803.

Heaven forgive him too !?

This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the king; our power is ready ;
Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you

may; The night is long that never finds the day.



SCENE I. Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.

Enter a Doctor of Physick, and a waiting Gentle


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 it, 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 slumbry agitation, besides her

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if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too!] That is, if he escape my vengeance, let him escape that of Heaven also.

Since his majesty went into the field,] This is one of Shakspeare's oversights. He forgot that he had shut up Macbeth in Dunsinane, and surrounded him with besiegers.

walking, and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say ?

Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her.

Doct. You may, to me; and 'tis most meet you should.

Gent. Neither to you, nor any one ; having no witness to confirm my speech.

Enter Lady MACBETH, with a Taper. Lo you,

here she comes! 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 see, her eyes are open.
Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut.

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 !*—Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier, and afеard ?

Hell is murky!) Murky is dark. Lady Macbeth is acting over, in a dream, the business of the murder of Duncan, and encouraging her husband as when awake. She, therefore, would not have even hinted the terrors of hell to one whose conscience she saw was too much alarmed already for her purpose. She certainly imagines herself here talking to Macbeth, who, (she supposes,) had just said, Hell is murky, (i. e. hell is a dismal place


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,
Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir,

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 of his grave.

Doct. Even so?
Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at

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to go to in consequence of such a deed,) and repeats his words in contempt of his cowardice.

you mar all with this starting.] Alluding to the terrors of Macbeth, when the Ghost broke in on the festivity of the banquet.

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