I have two nights watched with you but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?
Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon ’t, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.
You may to me, and ’tis most meet you should.
That, sir, which I will not report after her
Lo you, here she comes. This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her, stand close.
What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.
It is an accustomed action with her to seem thus washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour
Hark! She speaks. I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.
Yet here’s a spot
Out, damned spot! Out, I say!—One, two. Why, then, ’tis time to do ’t. Hell is murky!—Fie, my lord, fie! A soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?—Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him.
The thane of Fife had a wife. Where is she now?—What, will these hands ne'er be clean?—No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that. You mar all with this starting