МАСВЕТН.

МАСВЕТн.

So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

.Say, from whence

You owe this strange intelligence?

BANCO.

The earth hath bubbles, as the water has.

Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten of the insane root,

That takes the reason prisoner?

why do I yield to that suggestion

Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears

Are less than horrible imaginings.

Come what come may;

Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

Kind gentlemen, your pains

Are register'd where every day I turn

The leaf to read them.

MALCOLM.

.nothing in his life

Became him, like the leaving it: he died
As one that had been studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
As 'twere a careless trifle.

DUNCAN.

He was a gentleman on whom I built
An absolute trust.

Thou art so far before,

That swiftest wing of recompense is slow

To overtake thee.

MACBETH.

The service and the loyalty I owe,

In doing it, pays itself.

Stars, hide your fires!

Let not night see my black and deep desires.

MACBETH.

37

LADY MACBETH.

Thy letters have transported me beyond
This ignorant present, and I feel now
The future in the instant.

.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 it.

MACBETH.

.I have bought

Golden opinions from all sorts of people,

Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,

Not cast aside so soon.

I dare do all that may become a man ;

Who dares do more, is none.'

LADY MACBETH.

We fail!..

But screw your courage to the sticking-place,

And we'll not fail.

MACBETH.

Bring forth men-children only!

For thy undaunted mettle should compose

Nothing but males.

Away! and mock the time with fairest show:

False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

BANCO.

.Merciful powers!

Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
Gives way to in repose!

MACBETH.

Now o'er one half the world

Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep.

Thou sure and firm-set earth,

Hear not my steps which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my where-about.

Sleep, that knits up the rayell'd sleeve of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast.

I'll go no more:

I am afraid to think what I have done.

LADY MACBETH.

...The sleeping and the dead

Are but as pictures. "Tis the eye of childhood

That fears a painted devil.