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The temple-haunting martlet, does approve

       By his lov’d mansionry, that the heaven’s breath

       Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, buttress,

       Nor coigne of vantage, but this bird hath made

       His pendant bed and procreant cradle:

       Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ’d

       The air is delicate.

       [Enter Lady Macbeth.]

       DUNCAN.

       See, see, our honour’d hostess!—

       The love that follows us sometime is our trouble,

       Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you

       How you shall bid God ild 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 heap’d up to them,

       We rest your hermits.

       DUNCAN.

       Where’s the Thane of Cawdor?

       We cours’d 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 compt,

       To make their audit at your highness’ pleasure,

       Still to return your own.

       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.]

       SCENE VII. The same. A Lobby in the Castle.

       [Hautboys and torches. Enter, and pass over, a Sewer and divers

       Servants with dishes and service. Then enter Macbeth.]

       MACBETH.

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

       It were done quickly. If the 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 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

      

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