Macbeth, Act 2, Scene 2

That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold: What hath quench’d them hath given me fire.—Hark!—Peace! It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern’st good night. He is about it. The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg’d their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die.

What made them drunk has made me bold; what put them out has set me on fire.—Listen!—Quiet! It was the owl that shrieked, the bellman who announces a death and calls out the grimmest good night. He is doing it now. The doors are open, and the overfed servants make a mockery of their duty with their snoring. I drugged their bedtime drinks, so that death and life are fighting over them, over whether they live or die.

[Within.] Who’s there?—what, ho!

[Offstage.] Who's there?—hey, there!

Alack! I am afraid they have awak’d, And ’tis not done. Th’ attempt and not the deed Confounds us.—Hark!—I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss ’em.—Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done’t.—My husband!

Oh no! I'm afraid they've woken up, and it isn't done. The attempt without the murder itself destroys us.—Listen!—I put their daggers out ready; he couldn't have failed to find them.—If he hadn't looked like my father as he slept, I would have done it myself.—My husband!

I have done the deed.—Didst thou not hear a noise?

I have done it.—Didn't you hear a noise?

I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did not you speak?

I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Didn't you speak?

When?

When?

Now.

Just now.

As I descended?

As I came down?

Ay.

Yes.

Hark!—Who lies i’ th’ second chamber?

Listen!—Who's sleeping in the second room?

Donalbain.

Donalbain.

This is a sorry sight.

This is a miserable sight.

A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

It's a foolish thought, to call it a miserable sight.

There’s one did laugh in’s sleep, and one cried, “Murder!” That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them. But they did say their prayers, and address’d them Again to sleep.

One of them laughed in his sleep, and one cried out, "Murder!" so that they woke each other. I stood still and listened to them. But they said their prayers and settled down to sleep again.

There are two lodg’d together.

There are two of them sharing that room.

One cried, “God bless us!” and, “Amen,” the other, As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands. List’ning their fear, I could not say “Amen,” When they did say, “God bless us.”

One cried, "God bless us!" and the other said, "Amen," as if they had seen me with these executioner's hands. Listening to their fear, I couldn't say "Amen" when they said, "God bless us."

Consider it not so deeply.

Don't think about it so deeply.

But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”? I had most need of blessing, and “Amen” Stuck in my throat.

But why couldn't I say "Amen"? I needed a blessing more than anyone, and "Amen" stuck in my throat.

These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

These deeds mustn't be thought about in this way; if we do, it will drive us mad.

Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep,”—the innocent sleep; Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care, The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, Chief nourisher in life’s feast.

I thought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! Macbeth murders sleep,"—innocent sleep; sleep that smooths out the tangled threads of worry, the death of each day's life, the bath that soothes hard labour, the healing ointment for injured minds, great nature's main dish, the chief nourishment at life's feast.

What do you mean?

What do you mean?

Still it cried, “Sleep no more!” to all the house: “Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more!”

It went on crying, "Sleep no more!" through the whole house: "Glamis has murdered sleep, and so Cawdor shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more!"

Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength to think So brainsickly of things. Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand.— Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there: go carry them, and smear The sleepy grooms with blood.

Who was it who cried that? Come, worthy thane, you weaken your noble strength by thinking about things in such a sick-minded way. Go and get some water, and wash this filthy evidence off your hand.—Why did you bring these daggers away from the room? They have to stay there. Go and carry them back, and smear the sleeping servants with blood.

I’ll go no more: I am afraid to think what I have done; Look on’t again I dare not.

I won't go back there. I'm afraid to think about what I've done; I don't dare look at it again.

Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures. ’Tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I’ll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt.

Weak-willed man! Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead are no more than pictures. It's only a child's eye that's frightened by a painted devil. If he's still bleeding, I'll paint the servants' faces with his blood, because it must look as though they are guilty.

Whence is that knocking? How is’t with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? Ha, they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.

Where is that knocking coming from? What's happening to me, when every noise terrifies me? What hands are these? Oh, they're tearing my eyes out! Will all of great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean off my hand? No, instead this hand of mine will turn the countless seas blood-red, making the green one red.

My hands are of your color, but I shame To wear a heart so white. [Knocking within.] I hear knocking At the south entry:—retire we to our chamber. A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended.—[Knocking within.] Hark, more knocking. Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us And show us to be watchers. Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts.

My hands are the same colour as yours, but I would be ashamed to have a heart as pale as yours. [Knocking offstage.] I hear knocking at the south entrance. Let's go to our bedroom. A little water washes this deed off us; how easy it is then! Your firmness has deserted you.—[Knocking offstage.] Listen, more knocking. Put on your dressing gown, in case we're called out and it's seen that we've been awake. Don't be so pitifully lost in your thoughts.

To know my deed, ’twere best not know myself. [Knocking within.] Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!

Rather than face what I've done, it would be better to lose all knowledge of myself. [Knocking offstage.] Wake Duncan with your knocking! I wish you could!