Macbeth Act 1 Scene 7
Macbeth's castle.
The Original
Plain Modern English
Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers Servants with dishes and service, and pass over the stage. Then enter Macbeth.
Macbeth
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.
Macbeth
If this thing were truly over once it's done,
then the sooner it's done, the better. If the assassination
could just net up every consequence and, with his death,
guarantee success — if this one blow
could be the be-all and the end-all, right here,
right here on this narrow sandbank of time —
then I'd gladly gamble the afterlife. But crimes like this
still get judged in this life: we teach the world
a lesson in bloodshed, and the lesson comes right back
to haunt the teacher. Justice is even-handed like that —
it takes the poisoned cup we mixed
and presses it to our own lips. And Duncan's here under double trust:
first, I'm his relative and his subject —
two strong reasons not to do it. Second, I'm his host,
who should be barring the door against his murderer,
not carrying the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
has used his power so gently, and ruled
so blamelessly, that his virtues
will plead like trumpet-voiced angels against
the deep damnation of his murder.
And pity — like a naked newborn baby
riding the storm, or heaven's angels mounted
on the invisible horses of the wind —
will blast news of the horrible deed into every eye
until tears drown the wind itself. I have no spur
to drive this plan forward — only
vaulting ambition, which leaps so high
it clears the saddle and crashes down on the other side.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
Macbeth
How now! what news?
Macbeth
Well? What's the news?
Lady Macbeth
He has almost supp'd: why have you left the chamber?
Lady Macbeth
He's nearly finished dinner. Why did you leave the room?
Macbeth
Hath he ask'd for me?
Macbeth
Has he asked for me?
Lady Macbeth
Know you not he has?
Lady Macbeth
You know he has.
Macbeth
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.
Macbeth
We're not going through with this.
He's just honored me, and I've earned
golden opinions from all kinds of people.
I want to wear them while they're shiny and new —
not throw them out already.
Lady Macbeth
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?
Lady Macbeth
Was the hope you dressed yourself in
drunk? Has it been sleeping it off?
And now it wakes up green and hungover,
queasy about what it wanted so eagerly? From now on,
that's exactly what I'll think of your love. Are you afraid
to be as bold in your actions
as you are in your wanting? Do you want the thing
you consider the crown jewel of life,
while living as a coward in your own eyes —
letting 'I don't dare' trail behind 'I want to,'
like the cat in the proverb who wanted the fish but wouldn't get her paws wet?
Macbeth
Prithee, peace:
I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more is none.
Macbeth
Please. Stop.
I dare do everything that's worthy of a man.
Whoever dares do more isn't one.
Lady Macbeth
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.
Lady Macbeth
Then what beast was it
that pitched this plan to me in the first place?
When you dared to do it — that's when you were a man.
And doing more than you were
would make you that much more of one. Back then, the time and place
weren't right, and you were ready to force both.
Now they've lined up perfectly on their own —
and the perfect opportunity is unmaking you. I've nursed a baby,
and I know how tender it is to love the child at my breast.
But even while it was smiling up at my face,
I'd have torn my nipple from its soft gums
and smashed its brains out — if I had sworn to it
the way you swore to this.
Macbeth
If we should fail?
Macbeth
But what if we fail?
Lady Macbeth
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?
Lady Macbeth
We fail?!
Just screw your courage to the sticking place — tight, like a crossbow —
and we won't fail. Once Duncan's asleep —
and after today's hard journey
he'll sleep like a rock — I'll ply his two bodyguards
with so much wine and partying
that memory, the brain's security guard,
turns to vapor, and the container of their reason
becomes a still cooking nothing but fumes. While they're passed out
like drunk pigs, dead to the world,
what can't you and I do
to an unguarded Duncan? And what can't we pin on
his wine-soaked guards, who'll carry the blame
for our great hit?
Macbeth
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?
Macbeth
Only ever give birth to sons —
because that fearless spirit of yours
should build nothing but boys. And won't everyone believe,
once we've smeared blood on those two sleeping guards
from his own chamber and used their own daggers,
that they did it?
Lady Macbeth
Who dares receive it other,
As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
Upon his death?
Lady Macbeth
Who would dare believe anything else —
especially with the two of us wailing and roaring with grief
over his death?
Macbeth
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.
Macbeth
I've decided. Every muscle in my body
is strung tight for this terrible act.
Let's go — and fool the whole world with our friendliest faces.
A false face must hide what the false heart knows.
Exeunt. — End of Act One.