Macbeth: Act 3, Scene 2
Enter MACBETH'S LADY and a SERVANT.
1Is Banquo gone from court?
2Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.
3Say to the king, I would attend his leisure
4For a few words.
Madam, I will.
Nought's had, all's spent,
5Where our desire is got without content;
6'Tis safer to be that which we destroy
7Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
8How now, my lord! why do you keep alone,
9Of sorriest fancies your companions making,
10Using those thoughts which should indeed have died
11With them they think on? Things without all remedy
12Should be without regard: what's done is done.
13We have scorch'd the snake, not kill'd it:
14She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice
15Remains in danger of her former tooth.
16But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer,
17Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep
18In the affliction of these terrible dreams
19That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead,
20Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
21Than on the torture of the mind to lie
22In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
23After life's fitful fever he sleeps well;
24Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
25Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
26Can touch him further.
27Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;
28Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night.
29So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you:
30Let your remembrance apply to Banquo;
31Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue.
32Unsafe the while, that we
33Must lave our honours in these flattering streams,
34And make our faces vizards to our hearts,
35Disguising what they are.
You must leave this.
36O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
37Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.
38But in them nature's copy's not eterne.
39There's comfort yet; they are assailable;
40Then be thou jocund; ere the bat hath flown
41His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons
42The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums
43Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
44A deed of dreadful note.
What's to be done?
45Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
46Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night,
47Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;
48And with thy bloody and invisible hand
49Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
50Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the crow
51Makes wing to the rooky wood:
52Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;
53While night's black agents to their preys do rouse.
54Thou marvell'st at my words, but hold thee still;
55Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
56So, prithee, go with me.