Act 3 — Scene 4The Tragedy of Macbeth

Page 27 of 50

Page 27

Macbeth: Blood hath been shed ere now, i’ th’ olden time, Ere humane statute purg’d the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform’d Too terrible for the ear: the time has been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools. This is more strange Than such a murder is. Lady Macbeth: My worthy lord, Your noble friends do lack you. Macbeth: I do forget.— Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends. I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, love and health to all; Then I’ll sit down.—Give me some wine, fill full.— I drink to the general joy o’ th’ whole table, And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss: Would he were here. Ghost rises again. To all, and him, we thirst, And all to all. Lords: Our duties, and the pledge. Macbeth: Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with! Lady Macbeth: Think of this, good peers, But as a thing of custom: ’tis no other, Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. Macbeth: What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The arm’d rhinoceros, or th’ Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble: or be alive again, And dare me to the desert with thy sword; If trembling I inhabit then, protest me The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! Unreal mock’ry, hence! (Ghost disappears.) Why, so;—being gone, I am a man again.—Pray you, sit still. Lady Macbeth: You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting With most admir’d disorder. Macbeth: Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer’s cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine are blanch’d with fear. Ross: What sights, my lord?
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