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If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well It were done quickly: if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We’ld jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison’d chalice To our own lips. He’s here in double trust; First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off; And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubim, horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself And falls on the other.
If it could be done once and for all, then it would be better To do it quickly: if the murder Could block all consequences, and bring success With his death, if just this one blow Could end everything here, We would leap into the afterlife. But in these situations We still have judgment here; all we do is teach Bloody actions, which, once learned, come back To haunt the person who planned them: this fair justice Brings the poison we’ve brewed right back to our lips. He trusts me doubly; First, as his relative and subject, Both of which make me oppose the deed; and second, as his host, I should be the one locking out the murderer, not committing the crime myself. Besides, Duncan Has been so kind and just, and ruled so well, That his virtues Will speak like angels, loud and clear, against The terrible act of killing him; And pity, like a helpless newborn baby, Riding the wind, or heaven’s angels, flying On the unseen messengers of the air, Will spread the news of the terrible deed, and cause tears to drown out the storm. I have no real reason To push myself to do it, except for Ambition, which overreaches and ends up Falling down.
How now! what news?
What’s the news?
He has almost supp’d: why have you left the chamber?
He’s almost finished eating: why did you leave the room?
Hath he ask’d for me?
Has he asked for me?
Know you not he has?
Don’t you know he has?
We will proceed no further in this business: He hath honour’d me of late; and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon.
We won’t go any further with this plan: He’s honored me recently; and I’ve earned Praise from all sorts of people, Which I should enjoy now while it’s fresh, Not cast aside so quickly.
Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress’d yourself? hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting ’I dare not’ wait upon ’I would,’ Like the poor cat i’ the adage?
Was your hope drunk When you dressed yourself? Has it been asleep since? And now it wakes, looking so sick and pale At what it once wanted so easily? From now on, I’ll see your love as nothing. Are you afraid To act the same way you wish to, with the courage You had in your desires? Would you like to have that Which you think is the most important thing in life, And be a coward in your own eyes, Saying “I dare not” instead of “I would,” Like the cat in the old saying?
Prithee, peace: I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none.
Please, be quiet: I’ll do everything a man should do; But anyone who does more than that is no man at all.
What beast was’t, then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck’d my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
What kind of beast, then, Made you back out of this plan? When you were brave enough to do it, you were a man; And if you wanted to be more than you were, you’d Be even more of a man. Neither time nor place Stopped you before, and yet now you want to wait: They’ve already made their own decision, and now their actions Are undoing yours. I’ve nursed a baby, and I know How strong the love is for the child that feeds from me: I would have torn my nipple away from his soft gums, And smashed his head open, if I had sworn to do so like you Swore to this.
If we should fail?
What if we fail?
We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep-- Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journey Soundly invite him--his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lie as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell?
Fail?! No, just steady your courage, And we won’t fail. When Duncan falls asleep-- His long day of travel will make him want to sleep deeply-- I’ll make sure his two chamberlains Are so drunk on wine and revelry That their memory, which guards the mind, Will become a haze, and their ability to reason Will be as useless as an empty flask: when they are dead to the world, Like sleeping pigs, what can’t you and I do to The defenseless Duncan? What can’t we do to His drunk guards, who will carry the guilt Of our great murder?
Bring forth men-children only; For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be received, When we have mark’d with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber and used their very daggers, That they have done’t?
Only bring forth sons; Because your fearless spirit should create Nothing but males. Won’t it seem believable, When we mark those two sleeping men In his own room with blood, and use their own daggers, That they did it?
Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar Upon his death?
Who would dare to think otherwise, When we make our mourning and noise Over his death?
I am settled, and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
I’m resolved, and I will focus Every part of me on this dreadful task. Now go, and fool the world with a charming appearance: A false face must hide what the false heart knows.