Lo you, here she comes
Enter Lady Macbeth with a taper.
Lo you, here she comes. This is her very guise and,
upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.
How came she by that light?
Why, it stood by her. She has light by
her continually. ’Tis her command.
All the perfumes of Arabia will not
sweeten this little hand. O, O, O!
You see her eyes are open.
Ay, but their sense are shut.
What is it she does now? Look how she rubs
It is an accustomed action with her to
seem thus washing her hands. I have known her
continue in this a quarter of an hour.
Yet here’s a spot.
Hark, she speaks. I will set down what comes
from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.
Out, damned spot, out, I say! One. Two.
Why then, 'tis time to do ‘t. Hell is murky. Fie, my
lord, fie, a soldier and afeard? What need we fear
who knows it, when none can call our power to
account? Yet who would have thought the old man
to have had so much blood in him?
Do you mark that?
The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is
she now? What, will these hands ne’er be clean? No
more o’ that, my lord, no more o’ that. You mar all
with this starting.
Go to, go to. You have known what you should not.
She has spoke what she should not,
I am sure of that. Heaven knows what she has known.
Here’s the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes of
Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. O, O, O!