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A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight
I have done the deed, this is a sorry sight
Methought I head a voice cry 'Sleep no more!' Macbeth does murder sleep'
Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand. The daggers must lie at the place. Go, carry them
I'll go no more: I am afraid to tink what I have done; Look on't again I dare not.
Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures. I'll gild the faces of the groom withal For it must seem their guilt.
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this is my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
A little water clears us of this deed; How easy it is then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended. [knocking] Hark, more knocking.
To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst.
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