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 lie 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 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 done’t? 

 LADY MACBETH. Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamour 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. 

[Exeunt.]

 

 ACT II

 SCENE I. Inverness. Court within the Castle.

Enter Banquo and Fleance with a torch before him.

Banquo

Fleance

 BANQUO. How goes the night, boy? 

 FLEANCE. The moon is down; I have not heard the clock. 

 BANQUO. And she goes down at twelve. 

 FLEANCE. I take’t, ’tis later, sir. 

 BANQUO. Hold, take my sword.—There’s husbandry in heaven; Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers, Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose! 

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