Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. I [A bell rings. 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. SCENE II. The same. Enter LADY MACBETH. [Exit. Lady M. That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold: What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire:- It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, That death and nature do contend about them, Macb. [Within.] Who's there?—what, ho! Lady M. Alack! I am afraid, they have awak'd, And 'tis not done:—the attempt, and not the deed, and when he enumerates the terrors to which Chiron had familiarized his pupil, he subjoins: nec ad vastæ trepidare silentia sylvæ.' Tacitus, describing the distress of the Roman army, under Cæcina, concludes by observing-Ducemque terruit, dira quies. In all the preceding passages, as Pliny remarks, concerning places of worship, silentia ipsa adoramus. To these instances adduced by Steevens, Malone adds another from the second Eneid: vestigia retro Observata sequor per noctem, et lumine lustro, and the well known lines which exposed Dryden to so much ridicule: A horrid stillness first invades the ear, Confounds us :-Hark! I laid their daggers ready, He could not miss them.-Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done't. My husband? Enter MACBETH. Macb. I have done the deed:-Didst thou not hear a noise? Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets Macb. This is a sorry sight. Donalbain. [Looking on his hands. Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried, murder! That they did wake each other; I stood and heard them: But they did say their prayers, and address'd them Again to sleep. Lady M. There are two lodg'd together. Macb. One cried, God bless us! and, Amen, the other; As1 they had seen me, with these hangman's hands. Listening their fear, I could not say, amen, When they did say, God bless us. Lady M. 1 As for as if. Consider it not so deeply. 2 i. e. listening to their fear: the particle omitted. Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce, amen? I had most need of blessing, and amen Stuck in my throat. Lady M. These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad. Macb. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep; Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave3 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; Lady M. What do you mean? Macb. Still it cried, Sleep no more! to all the house: Glamis hath murder'd sleep; and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more*! Lady M. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think 3 Sleave is unwrought silk, sometimes also called floss silk. It appears to be the coarse ravelled part separated by passing through the slaie (reed comb) of the weaver's loom; and hence called sleaved or sleided silk. I suspect that sleeveless, which has puzzled the etymologists, is that which cannot be sleaved, sleided, or unravelled; and therefore useless: thus a sleeveless errand would be a fruitless one. 4 Steevens observes that this triple menace, accommodated to the different titles of Macbeth, is too quaint to be received as the natural ebullition of a guilty mind; but Mr. Boswell thinks that there is no ground for his objection. He thus explains the passage: Glamis hath murder'd sleep; and therefore my lately acquired dignity can afford no comfort to one who suffers the agony of remorse,-Cawdor shall sleep no more; nothing can restore me to that peace of mind which I enjoyed in a comparatively humble state; the once innocent Macbeth shall sleep no more. They must lie there: Go, carry them; and smear The sleepy grooms with blood. Macb. I am afraid to think what I have done; Look on't again, I dare not. Lady M. Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: The sleeping, and the dead, Macb. [Exit. Knocking within. Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here! Ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 5 This quibble too occurs frequently in old plays. Shakspeare has it again in King Henry IV. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 4: England shall double gild his treble guilt.' And in King Henry V.:— 6 Have for the gilt of France, O guilt indeed.' Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood,' &c. Suscipit, ô Gellii, quantum non ultima Tethys, Nec genitor nympharum abluit oceanus. Catullus in Gellium, 83. Sophoc. Οεδιπ. Οἶμαι γὰρ ἔτ αν Ιστρον ἔ τε φᾶσιν αν Quis eluet me Tanais? aut quæ barbaris Senec. Hippol. Non, si Neptuni fluctu renovare operam des, Thus also, in The Insatiate Countess, by Marston, 1613 :— 'Although the waves of all the northern sea Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnardine, Making the green-one red3. Re-enter LADY MACBETH. Lady M. My hands are of your colour; but I shame To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a knocking At the south entry:-retire we to our chamber: A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it then? Your constancy Hath left you unattended 9.-[Knocking.] Hark! more knocking: Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, Macb. To know my deed,-'twere best not know myself 10 [Knock. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would, thou could'st? SCENE III. The same. [Exeunt. Enter a Porter. [Knocking within. Porter. Here's a knocking, indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old1 turning the key. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock: 7 To incarnardine is to stain of a red colour. * In the old copy this line stands thus: Making the Green one, Red.' The punctuation in the text was adopted by Steevens at the suggestion of Murphy. Malone prefers the old punctuation. Steevens has well defended the arrangement of his text, which seems to me to deserve the preference, 9 Your constancy hath left you unattended.'-Vide note on King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 2. 10 This is an answer to Lady Macbeth's reproof. 'While I have the thoughts of this deed, it were best not know, or be lost to myself.' 1i.e. frequent. |