Neither to you, nor any one, hauing no witnesse
to confirme my speech.
to confirme my speech.
shakespeare-macbeth
Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the Powres aboue
Put on their Instruments: Receiue what cheere you may,
The Night is long, that neuer findes the Day.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting Gentlewoman.
Doct. I haue too Nights watch'd with you, but can
perceiue no truth in your report. When was it shee last
walk'd?
Gent. Since his Maiesty went into the Field, I haue
seene her rise from her bed, throw her Night-Gown vppon
her, vnlocke her Closset, take foorth paper, folde it,
write vpon't, read it, afterwards Seale it, and againe returne
to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleepe
Doct. A great perturbation in Nature, to receyue at
once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching.
In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other
actuall performances, what (at any time) haue you heard
her say?
Gent. That Sir, which I will not report after her
Doct. You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should
Gent.
Neither to you, nor any one, hauing no witnesse
to confirme my speech.
Enter Lady, with a Taper.
Lo you, heere she comes: This is her very guise, and vpon
my life fast asleepe: obserue her, stand close
Doct. How came she by that light?
Gent. Why it stood by her: she ha's light by her continually,
'tis her command
Doct. You see her eyes are open
Gent. I, but their sense are shut
Doct. What is it she do's now?
Looke how she rubbes her hands
Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seeme
thus washing her hands: I haue knowne her continue in
this a quarter of an houre
Lad. Yet heere's a spot
Doct. Heark, she speaks, I will set downe what comes
from her, to satisfie my remembrance the more strongly
La. Out damned spot: out I say. One: Two: Why
then 'tis time to doo't: Hell is murky. Fye, my Lord, fie,
a Souldier, and affear'd?
Is ripe for shaking, and the Powres aboue
Put on their Instruments: Receiue what cheere you may,
The Night is long, that neuer findes the Day.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting Gentlewoman.
Doct. I haue too Nights watch'd with you, but can
perceiue no truth in your report. When was it shee last
walk'd?
Gent. Since his Maiesty went into the Field, I haue
seene her rise from her bed, throw her Night-Gown vppon
her, vnlocke her Closset, take foorth paper, folde it,
write vpon't, read it, afterwards Seale it, and againe returne
to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleepe
Doct. A great perturbation in Nature, to receyue at
once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching.
In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other
actuall performances, what (at any time) haue you heard
her say?
Gent. That Sir, which I will not report after her
Doct. You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should
Gent.
Neither to you, nor any one, hauing no witnesse
to confirme my speech.
Enter Lady, with a Taper.
Lo you, heere she comes: This is her very guise, and vpon
my life fast asleepe: obserue her, stand close
Doct. How came she by that light?
Gent. Why it stood by her: she ha's light by her continually,
'tis her command
Doct. You see her eyes are open
Gent. I, but their sense are shut
Doct. What is it she do's now?
Looke how she rubbes her hands
Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seeme
thus washing her hands: I haue knowne her continue in
this a quarter of an houre
Lad. Yet heere's a spot
Doct. Heark, she speaks, I will set downe what comes
from her, to satisfie my remembrance the more strongly
La. Out damned spot: out I say. One: Two: Why
then 'tis time to doo't: Hell is murky. Fye, my Lord, fie,
a Souldier, and affear'd?
