I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?
There’s one did laugh in ’s sleep, and one cried, “Murder!”
That they did wake each other. I stood and heard them;
But they did say their prayers, and address’d them
Again to sleep.
One cried, “God bless us!” and “Amen!” the other,
As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands.
List’ning their fear, I could not say “Amen,”
When they did say “God bless us!”
But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”?
I had most need of blessing, and “Amen”
Stuck in my throat.
Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep”—the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.
Still it cried, “Sleep no more!” to all the house;
“Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more—Macbeth shall sleep no more.”
I am afraid to think what I have done;
Whence is that knocking?
How is’t with me, when every noise appalls me?
What hands are here? Hah! they pluck out mine eyes.
Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.
To know my deed, ’twere best not know myself.
Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!