Act 3, Scene 2

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[The palace. Enter Lady Macbeth and a Servant]

Lady Macbeth

Is Banquo gone from court?

Servant

Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.

Lady Macbeth

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

Servant

                              Madam, I will.
[Exit]

Lady Macbeth

Nought'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.
[Enter Macbeth]
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.

Macbeth

We have scorched the snake, not killed 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.

Lady Macbeth

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

Macbeth

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 honors 
In these flattering streams, and make our faces 
Vizards to our hearts, disguising what they are.

Lady Macbeth

You must leave this.

Macbeth

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

Lady Macbeth

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

Macbeth

There's comfort yet; they are assailable;
Then, be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flown
His cloistered 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.

Lady Macbeth

                                         What's to be done?

Macbeth

Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
Till thou applaud the deed. Come, sealing 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 the rooky wood.
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;
While 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, prithee, go with me.
[Exit]