University of Virginia Library

SCENE VII.

A Room in Macbeth's Castle at Inverness.
Enter Macbeth.
Mac.
If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well.
It were done quickly, if the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch,
With his surcease, success. That but this blow
Might be the all and the end-all here;
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time!
We'd jump the life to come—But, in these cases,
We still have judgment here; that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor: This even-handed Justice
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
To our own lips. He's here in double trust:
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,
Who should against his murderer shut the door,
Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongu'd, against
The deep damnation of his taking off:
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, hors'd
Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That tears shall drown the wind.—I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other—How now! what news?

Enter Lady Macbeth.
Lady.
He has almost supp'd; why have you left the chamber?

Mac.
Hath he ask'd for me?

Lady.
Know you not, he has?

Mac.
We will proceed no further in this business:
He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought
Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
Which would be worn, now in their newest gloss,
Not cast aside so soon.

Lady.
Was the hope drunk,
Wherein you drest yourself; hath it slept since?
And wakes it now, to look so green and pale
At what it did so freely? from this time,
Such I account thy love. Art thou afear'd
To be the same in thine own act and valour
As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that
Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,
And live a coward in thine own esteem;
Letting I dare not wait upon I would,
Like the poor cat i'the adage?

Mac.
Pr'ythee, peace:
I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more, is none.

Lady.
What beast was it then,
That made you break this enterprise to me?
When you durst do it, then you were a man;
And, to be more than what you were, you would
Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place,
Did then adhere, and yet you would make both:
They have made themselves, and that their fitness now
Does unmake you. I have given suck; and know
How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me:
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn, as you
Have done, to this.

Mac.
If we should fail,—

Lady.
We fail.—
But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep,
Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey
Soundly invite him, his two chamberlains
Will I with wine and wassel so convince,
That memory, the warder of the brain,
Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep
Their drenched natures lie, as in a death,
What cannot you and I perform upon
The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
His spungy officers; who shall bear the guilt
Of our great quell?

Mac.
Bring forth men-children only!
For thy undaunted mettle should compose
Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv'd,
When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
Of his own chamber, and used their very daggers,
That they have done't?

Lady.
Who dares receive it other,
As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
Upon his death?

Mac.
I am settled, and bend up
Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

Exeunt.