That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold. What hath quenched them hath given me fire. Hark!—Peace.
I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?
Methought I heard a voice cry “Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep”—the innocent sleep, sleep that knits up the raveled 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.
Lady Macbeth drugged the guards.
I’ll go no more. I am afraid to think what I have done. Look on ’t again I dare not.
Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there. Go, carry them and smear the sleepy grooms with blood.
Macbeth kills king Duncan.
Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures. ’Tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I’ll gild the faces of the grooms withal, for it must seem their guilt.
Macbeth feels guilty and is going insane.
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.
Lady Macbeth tells him to go back to leave the daggers and smear blood and Macbeth refuses.
Lady Macbeth is annoyed and decides to do it herself.
Macbeth says even all the water in the world cannot wash his guilt away.