Deare Duff, I prythee
contradict
thy selfe,
And say, it is not so.
And say, it is not so.
shakespeare-macbeth
Macbeth and Lenox.
Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason,
Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolme awake,
Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit,
And looke on Death it selfe: vp, vp, and see
The great Doomes Image: Malcolme, Banquo,
As from your Graues rise vp, and walke like Sprights,
To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell.
Bell rings. Enter Lady.
Lady. What's the Businesse?
That such a hideous Trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the House? speake, speake
Macd. O gentle Lady,
'Tis not for you to heare what I can speake:
The repetition in a Womans eare,
Would murther as it fell.
Enter Banquo.
O Banquo, Banquo, Our Royall Master's murther'd
Lady. Woe, alas:
What, in our House?
Ban. Too cruell, any where.
Deare Duff, I prythee contradict thy selfe,
And say, it is not so.
Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Rosse.
Macb. Had I but dy'd an houre before this chance,
I had liu'd a blessed time: for from this instant,
There's nothing serious in Mortalitie:
All is but Toyes: Renowne and Grace is dead,
The Wine of Life is drawne, and the meere Lees
Is left this Vault, to brag of.
Enter Malcolme and Donalbaine.
Donal. What is amisse?
Macb. You are, and doe not know't:
The Spring, the Head, the Fountaine of your Blood
Is stopt, the very Source of it is stopt
Macd. Your Royall Father's murther'd
Mal. Oh, by whom?
Lenox. Those of his Chamber, as it seem'd, had don't:
Their Hands and Faces were all badg'd with blood,
So were their Daggers, which vnwip'd, we found
Vpon their Pillowes: they star'd, and were distracted,
No mans Life was to be trusted with them
Macb. O, yet I doe repent me of my furie,
That I did kill them
Macd. Wherefore did you so?
Macb.
Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason,
Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolme awake,
Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit,
And looke on Death it selfe: vp, vp, and see
The great Doomes Image: Malcolme, Banquo,
As from your Graues rise vp, and walke like Sprights,
To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell.
Bell rings. Enter Lady.
Lady. What's the Businesse?
That such a hideous Trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the House? speake, speake
Macd. O gentle Lady,
'Tis not for you to heare what I can speake:
The repetition in a Womans eare,
Would murther as it fell.
Enter Banquo.
O Banquo, Banquo, Our Royall Master's murther'd
Lady. Woe, alas:
What, in our House?
Ban. Too cruell, any where.
Deare Duff, I prythee contradict thy selfe,
And say, it is not so.
Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Rosse.
Macb. Had I but dy'd an houre before this chance,
I had liu'd a blessed time: for from this instant,
There's nothing serious in Mortalitie:
All is but Toyes: Renowne and Grace is dead,
The Wine of Life is drawne, and the meere Lees
Is left this Vault, to brag of.
Enter Malcolme and Donalbaine.
Donal. What is amisse?
Macb. You are, and doe not know't:
The Spring, the Head, the Fountaine of your Blood
Is stopt, the very Source of it is stopt
Macd. Your Royall Father's murther'd
Mal. Oh, by whom?
Lenox. Those of his Chamber, as it seem'd, had don't:
Their Hands and Faces were all badg'd with blood,
So were their Daggers, which vnwip'd, we found
Vpon their Pillowes: they star'd, and were distracted,
No mans Life was to be trusted with them
Macb. O, yet I doe repent me of my furie,
That I did kill them
Macd. Wherefore did you so?
Macb.
