Macbeth, Act 3, Scene 2

Is Banquo gone from court?

Has Banquo left the court?

Ay, madam, but returns again tonight.

Yes, madam, but he comes back tonight.

Say to the King, I would attend his leisure For a few words.

Tell the King that I would like to wait on him, when he has time, for a few words.

Madam, I will.

I will, madam.

Naught’s had, all’s spent, Where our desire is got without content: ’Tis safer to be that which we destroy, Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.

We have nothing, we have spent everything, when we get what we wanted and it brings no contentment. It is safer to be the one we destroy than to live, by destroying, in uncertain joy.

How now, my lord, why do you keep alone, Of sorriest fancies your companions making, Using those thoughts which should indeed have died With them they think on? Things without all remedy Should be without regard: what’s done is done.

Well now, my lord, why do you stay by yourself, keeping the most miserable imaginings as your company, dwelling on thoughts that should truly have died along with the men they are about? Things that cannot be cured at all should be ignored. What is done is done.

We have scorch’d the snake, not kill’d it. She’ll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. But let the frame of things disjoint, Both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further.

We have slashed the snake, not killed it. She will heal and be herself again, while our feeble spite stays in danger of her fangs as before. But let the whole structure of the universe fall apart, let both heaven and earth be destroyed, before we will eat our meals in fear and sleep tormented by these terrible dreams that shake us every night. Better to be with the dead, whom we sent to their peace to win our own, than to lie on the rack of the mind in restless frenzy. Duncan is in his grave; after life's feverish fits he sleeps well. Treason has done its worst to him: neither sword nor poison, neither rebellion at home nor invasion from abroad, nothing can harm him any more.

Come on, Gently my lord, sleek o’er your rugged looks; Be bright and jovial among your guests tonight.

Come now, my lord, be calm; smooth out that rough, frowning face. Be cheerful and merry with your guests tonight.

So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you. Let your remembrance apply to Banquo; Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue: Unsafe the while, that we Must lave our honours in these flattering streams, And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are.

I will be, my love; and please be so yourself. Let your attention be given to Banquo; show him special honour, with both your looks and your words. We are unsafe as long as we must wash our honours clean in these streams of flattery, and make our faces masks for our hearts, hiding what they really are.

You must leave this.

You must stop this.

O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know’st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.

Oh, my mind is full of scorpions, dear wife! You know that Banquo, and his son Fleance, are still alive.

But in them nature’s copy’s not eterne.

But the lease nature gave them on life is not forever.

There’s comfort yet; they are assailable. Then be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flown His cloister’d flight, ere to black Hecate’s summons The shard-born beetle, with his drowsy hums, Hath rung night’s yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note.

There is comfort in that: they can be attacked. So be cheerful. Before the bat has made its circling flight, before the beetle born in dung, with its sleepy droning, has rung the bell for drowsy night at black Hecate's call, a deed of dreadful fame will be done.

What’s to be done?

What is going to be done?

Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale!—Light thickens; and the crow Makes wing to th’ rooky wood. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, Whiles night’s black agents to their preys do rouse. Thou marvell’st at my words: but hold thee still; Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill. So, pr’ythee, go with me.

Stay innocent by not knowing, dearest darling, until you can applaud the deed. Come, blinding night, blindfold the tender eye of merciful day, and with your bloody, unseen hand cancel and tear to pieces that great contract which keeps me pale with fear! The light is growing thick, and the crow flies to the wood where the rooks nest. The good creatures of daylight begin to droop and fall asleep, while night's black servants rise up after their prey. You are amazed at my words, but keep quiet: deeds begun in evil make themselves strong through more evil. So please, come with me.