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The Illustrated Works of Shakespeare
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Illustrated Works of Shakespeare, The (1990)(Animated Pixels)[!][CDTV-PC].iso
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02_01
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1991-04-10
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Inverness. Court within the Castle.
Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE, with a torch before him.
Banquo How goes the night, boy?
Fleance The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.
Banquo And she goes down at twelve.
Fleance I take't 'tis later, sir.
Banquo [Giving his sword.]
Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven;
Their candles are all out.
[Giving the torch.] Take thee that too.
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers,
Restrain in me the cursd thoughts that nature
Gives way to in repose.
Enter MACBETH, and a SERVANT with a torch.
Give me my sword.
Who's there?
Macbeth A friend.
Banquo What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's abed.
He hath been in unusual pleasure, and
Sent forth great largess to your offices.
This diamond he greets your wife withal
By the name of most kind hostess, and shut up
In measureless content.
Macbeth Being unprepared,
Our will became the servant to defect,
Which else should free have wrought.
Banquo All's well.
I dreamt last night of the three Weird sisters:
To you they have showed some truth.
Macbeth I think not of them;
Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,
We would spend it in some words upon that business,
If you would grant the time.
Banquo At your kind'st leisure.
Macbeth If you shall cleave to my consent when 'tis,
It shall make honour for you.
Banquo So I lose none
In seeking to augment it, but still keep
My bosom franchised and allegiance clear,
I shall be counselled.
Macbeth Good repose the while.
Banquo Thanks, sir; the like to you.
[Exeunt BANQUO and FLEANCE.
Macbeth Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready
She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.
[Exit SERVANT.
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still!
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation
Proceeding from the heat-oppressd brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o'th' other senses,
Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still;
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtained sleep. Witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's off'rings, and withered murder,
Alarumed by his sentinel, the wolf
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout
And take the present horror from the time
Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives.
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
[A bell rings.
I go, and it is done - the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven, or to hell.
[Exit.