Act 2, Scene 1
The court of Macbeth’s castle.
- Enter Banquo, and Fleance with a torch before him.
- How goes the night, boy?
- The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.
- And she goes down at twelve.
- I take’t, ’tis later, sir.
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- Hold, take my sword. There’s husbandry in heaven,
- Their candles are all out. Take thee that too.
- Gives him his belt and dagger.
- A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
- And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers,
- Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
- Gives way to in repose!
- Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch.
- Give me my sword.
- Who’s there?
- A friend.
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- What, sir, not yet at rest? The King’s a-bed.
- He hath been in unusual pleasure, and
- Sent forth great largess to your offices.
- This diamond he greets your wife withal,
- By the name of most kind hostess, and shut up
- In measureless content.
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- Being unprepar’d,
- Our will became the servant to defect,
- Which else should free have wrought.
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- All’s well.
- I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:
- To you they have show’d some truth.
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- I think not of them;
- Yet when we can entreat an hour to serve,
- We would spend it in some words upon that business,
- If you would grant the time.
- At your kind’st leisure.
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- If you shall cleave to my consent, when ’tis,
- It shall make honor for you.
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- So I lose none
- In seeking to augment it, but still keep
- My bosom franchis’d and allegiance clear,
- I shall be counsell’d.
- Good repose the while!
- Thanks, sir; the like to you!
- Exit Banquo with Fleance.
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- Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
- She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.
- Exit Servant.
- Is this a dagger which I see before me,
- The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:
- I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
- Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
- To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but
- A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
- Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
- I see thee yet, in form as palpable
- As this which now I draw.
- Thou marshal’st me the way that I was going,
- And such an instrument I was to use.
- Mine eyes are made the fools o’ th’ other senses,
- Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still;
- And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
- Which was not so before. There’s no such thing:
- It is the bloody business which informs
- Thus to mine eyes. Now o’er the one half world
- Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
- The curtain’d sleep; witchcraft celebrates
- Pale Hecat’s off’rings; and wither’d Murder,
- Alarum’d 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
- The very stones prate of my whereabout,
- And take the present horror from the time,
- Which now suits with it. Whiles 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.