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LADY: The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe, top-full
Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood,
Stop up th’access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
Th’effect and it. Come to my woman’s breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
Wherever, in your sightless substances,
You wait on nature’s mischief. Come thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark
To cry, “Hold, hold”.
Enter MACBETH
Great Glamis, worthy Cawdor,
Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter,
Thy letters have transported me beyond
The ignorant present, and I feel now
The future in the instant.
MACBETH: My dearest love,
Duncan comes here tonight.
LADY: And when goes he hence?
MACBETH: Tomorrow, as he purposes.
LADY: O never
Shall sun that morrow see.
Your face, my thane, is a book, where men
May read strange matters; to beguile the time,
Look like the time, bear welcome in your eye.
Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under’t. He that’s coming
Must be provided for; and you shall put
This night’s great business into my dispatch,
Which shall to all our nights and days to come,
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
MACBETH: We will speak further.
LADY: Only look up clear;
To alter favour ever is to fear.
Leave all the rest to me.
William Shakespeare
Macbeth (Bloomsbury, 2015)