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It is the bloody business, which informs
Thus to mine eyes.

Now o’er one half the world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtained sleeper; now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings; and withered murder,
Alarumed by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl 's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my where-about,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. While I threat, he lives,
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.

(A bell rings. I 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.

Enter Lady Macbeth. Lady. That which hath made them drunk, hath

made me bold; What hath quenched them, hath given me fire. Hark! !

Peace! It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman, Which gives the sternest good-night. He is about it: The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugged

their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live, or die.

Macb. [Within.] Who 's there? what, oh!

Lady. Alack! I am afraid they have awaked, And ’t is not done: the attempt, and not the deed, 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. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry: Did not you speak?

Macb. When ?
Lady. Now.
Macb. As I descended ?
Lady. Ay.
Macb. Hark! who lies i' the second chamber?
Lady. Donalbain.
Macb. This is a sorry sight.

[Looking on his hands. Lady. 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 addressed them
Again to sleep.
Lady. There are two lodged together.
Macb. One cried, God bless us! and, Amen! the

other;
As 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. Consider it not so deeply.

Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen ? I had most need of blessing, and Amen Stuck in

my

throat. Lady. 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 ravelled sleave 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. What do you mean?
Macb. Still it cried, “Sleep no more !” to all the

house:
Glamis hath murdered sleep; and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!”
Lady. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy

thane,
You do unbend your noble strength, to think
So brain-sickly of such things :-Go, get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your

hand.
Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
They must lie there: Go, carry them; and smear
The sleepy grooms with blood.

Macb. I 'll go no more:
I am afraid to think what I have done;
Look on 't again I dare not.

Lady. Infirm of purpose !
Give me the daggers: The sleeping, and the dead,
Are but as pictures : 't is the eye of childhood
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
I 'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
For it must seem their guilt.

[Exit. Knocking within.
Macb. 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 Clean from my hand ? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnardine, Making the green – one red.

.

Re-enter Lady Macbeth. Lady. My hands are of your colour; but I shame To wear a heart so white. 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.—Hark! more knocking :

[Knock. Get on your night-gown, lest occasion call us, And shew us to be watchers :- Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts. Macb. To know my deed – ’T were best not know myself.

[Knock. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!

SHAKSPERE.

CLARENCE'S DREAM.

RICHARD III., ACT I., SCENE 4.

An Apartment in the Tower. Enter Clarence, and Brakenbury.
Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?

Cla. 0, I have past a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though 't were to buy a world of happy days ;
So full of dismal terror was the time.

Brak. What was your dream, my lord ? I pray you, Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the Tower, And was embarked to cross to Burgundy; And, in my company, my brother Gloster: Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches; thence we looked towards England, And cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster, That had befallen us. As we paced along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board, Into the tumbling billows of the main. O Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of water in mine ears! What sights of ugly death within my eyes ! Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; A thousand men, that fishes gnawed upon; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes, Where

tell me.

eyes

did once inhabit, there were crept (As 't were in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems, That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep, And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.

Brak. Had you such leisure, in the time of death, To gaze upon the secrets of the deep ?

Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I strive To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast, and wandering air; But smothered it within my panting bulk, Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

Brak. Awaked you not with this sore agony ?

Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthened after life; 0, then began the tempest to my soul!

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