But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”? I had most need of blessing, and “Amen” Stuck in my throat.
These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad
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.
What do you mean?
Still it cried “Sleep no more!” to all the house.“Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore CawdorShall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more.”
Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,You do unbend your noble strength to thinkSo brainsickly of things. Go get some waterAnd wash this filthy witness from your hand.—Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
I’ll go no more. I am afraid to think what I have done.Look on ’t again I dare not.
Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the deadAre 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.