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 again tonight.

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

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

Madam, I will.

Madam, I will.

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.

Nothing is gained, everything is wasted, when we get what we want and have no contentment with it. It is safer to be the one we destroy than to live, through destroying, in a joy that is uncertain.

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.

What is it, my lord? Why do you stay by yourself, keeping the most miserable imaginings as your companions, holding on to thoughts that really should 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 weak spite stays in danger of the same fangs as before. But let the whole structure of things fall apart, let both worlds — this one and the next — 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 gain our own, than to lie on the rack of the mind in restless frenzy. Duncan is in his grave. After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. Treason has done its worst: neither steel nor poison, neither treachery at home nor armies from abroad, nothing can touch him any further.

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

Come now, my gentle lord, smooth over that harsh look on your 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, you be so too. Let your attention be given to Banquo; single him out for honour, with both your eyes and your words. We are unsafe as long as we must wash our honours in these streams of flattery and make our faces masks for our hearts, hiding what they 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 Fleance, are alive.

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

But nature's lease on them 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 dung-bred beetle, at black Hecate's call, has rung the drowsy bell of night with its sleepy humming, 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 of the knowledge, dearest darling, until you can applaud the deed. Come, blinding night, blindfold the tender eye of merciful day, and with your bloody, invisible hand cancel and tear to pieces that great bond that keeps me pale with fear! The light is growing thick, and the crow flies to the crow-filled wood. The good creatures of the day begin to droop and grow sleepy, while night's black agents rise up to hunt their prey. You are amazed at my words, but keep still: things begun in evil make themselves strong through more evil. So, please, come with me.