Macbeth (Including The Biography of the Infamous Author). William Shakespeare

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Macbeth (Including The Biography of the Infamous Author) - William Shakespeare

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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-tongued, against

       The deep damnation of his taking-off:

       And pity, like a naked newborn babe,

       Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubin, 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.

       [Enter Lady Macbeth.]

       How now! what news?

       LADY MACBETH.

       He has almost supp’d: why have you left the chamber?

       MACBETH.

       Hath he ask’d for me?

       LADY MACBETH.

       Know you not he has?

       MACBETH.

       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 MACBETH.

       Was the hope drunk

       Wherein you dress’d 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 afeard

       To be the same in thine own act and valor

       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?

       MACBETH.

       Pr’ythee, peace!

       I dare do all that may become a man;

       Who dares do more is none.

       LADY MACBETH.

       What beast was’t, 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.

       MACBETH.

       If we should fail?

       LADY MACBETH.

       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 wassail so convince

       That memory, the warder of the brain,

       Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason

       A limbec 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 spongy officers; who shall bear the guilt

       Of our great quell?

       MACBETH.

       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 us’d their very daggers,

       That they have don’t?

       LADY MACBETH.

       Who dares receive it other,

       As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar

       Upon his death?

       MACBETH.

       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.

      

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