How you shall bid God ’ield us for your pains,

And thank us for your trouble.

LADY MACBETH

All our service

In every point twice done, and then done double,

Were poor and single business to contend

Against those honours deep and broad wherewith

Your majesty loads our house. For those of old,

And the late dignities heaped up to them,

We rest your hermits.

KING DUNCAN

Where’s the Thane of Cawdor?

We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose

To be his purveyor; but he rides well,

And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him

To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess,

We are your guest tonight.

LADY MACBETH

Your servants ever

Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in count

To make their audit at your highness’ pleasure,

Still to return your own.

KING DUNCAN

Give me your hand.

Conduct me to mine host. We love him highly,

And shall continue our graces towards him.

By your leave, hostess. Exeunt

1.7 Hautboys. Torches. Enter a sewer and divers servants with dishes and service over the stage. Then enter Macbeth

MACBETH

If it were done when ‘tis done, then ’twere well

It were done quickly. If th‘assassination

Could trammel up the consequence, and catch

With his surcease success: that but this blow

Might be the be-all and the end-all, here,

But here upon this bank and shoal of time,

We’d jump the life to come. But in these cases

We still have judgement here, that we but teach

Bloody instructions which, being taught, return

To plague th’inventor. This even-handed justice

Commends th‘ingredience of our poisoned 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 new-born babe,

Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubin, horsed

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 th’other.

Enter Lady Macbeth

How now? What news?

LADY MACBETH

He has almost supped. Why have you left the

chamber?

MACBETH

Hath he asked for me?

LADY MACBETH

Know you not he has?

MACBETH

We will proceed no further in this business.

He hath honoured 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 dressed 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 valour

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’th’ adage?

MACBETH

Prithee, 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 plucked my nipple from his boneless gums

And dashed 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 limbeck only. When in swinish sleep

Their drenched natures lies as in a death,

What cannot you and I perform upon

Th’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