Macbeth: Act 5, Scene 1
Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman.
1I have two nights watched with you, but can
2perceive no truth in your report. When was it
3she last walked?
4Since his majesty went into the field, I have
5seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown
6upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold
7it, write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again
8return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.
9A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once
10the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of
11watching! In this slumbery agitation, besides her
12walking and other actual performances, what, at any
13time, have you heard her say?
14That, sir, which I will not report after her.
15You may to me, and 'tis most meet you
17Neither to you nor any one; having no witness
18to confirm my speech.
Enter LADY [MACBETH], with a taper.
19Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and,
20upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.
21How came she by that light?
22Why, it stood by her. She has light by her
23continually; 'tis her command.
24You see, her eyes are open.
25Ay, but their sense is shut.
26What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs
28It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus
29washing her hands. I have known her continue in
30this a quarter of an hour.
31Yet here's a spot.
32Hark! she speaks. I will set down what comes
33from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more
35Out, damned spot! out, I say!One: two: why,
36then, 'tis time to do't.Hell is murky!Fie, my
37lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we
38fear who knows it, when none can call our power
39to account?Yet who would have thought the old
40man to have had so much blood in him?
41Do you mark that?
42The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now?
43What, will these hands ne'er be clean?No more o'
44that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with
46Go to, go to; you have known what you should
48She has spoke what she should not, I am sure
49of that; heaven knows what she has known.
50Here's the smell of the blood still. All the
51perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this
52little hand. O, O, O!
53What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely
55I would not have such a heart in my bosom
56for the dignity of the whole body.
57Well, well, well.
58Pray God it be, sir.
59This disease is beyond my practise; yet I
60have known those which have walked in
61their sleep who have died holily in their beds.
62Wash your hands, put on your nightgown;
63look not so pale.I tell you yet again, Banquo's
64buried; he cannot come out on's grave.
66To bed, to bed! there's knocking at the gate:
67come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's
68done cannot be undone.To bed, to bed, to bed!
69Will she go now to bed?
71Foul whisperings are abroad. Unnatural deeds
72Do breed unnatural troubles; infected minds
73To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
74More needs she the divine than the physician.
75God, God forgive us all! Look after her;
76Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
77And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night:
78My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight.
79I think, but dare not speak.
Good night, good doctor.