- Macbeth
- I'll go no more. I am afraid to think of
what I have done; look on't again I dare not.
- Lady Macbeth
- Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers.
The sleeping and the dead are as but pictures. 'Tis the eye
if childhood that fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I'll
gild the faces if the grooms withal, for it must seem their
guilt. (Exit. Knocking within)
- Macbeth
- Whence is that knocking? How is't wit me when
every noise apalls me? What hands are here? Ha! They pluck out
mine eyes! Will all 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. (Enter Lady Macbeth)
- Lady Macbeth
- My hands are of your color, but I shame to
wear a heart so white.