Page:Macbeth (1918) Yale.djvu/43

Macbeth, II. iii As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,

To countenance this horror! Ring the bell.

Lady M. What's the business,

That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley

The sleepers of the house? speak, speak!

Macd. O gentle lady!

'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak;

The repetition in a woman's ear

Would murder as it fell.

O Banquo! Banquo!

Our royal master's murder'd!

Lady M. Woe, alas!

What! in our house?

Ban. Too cruel anywhere.

Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself,

And say it is not so.

Macb. Had I but died an hour before this chance,

I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant,

There's nothing serious in mortality:

All is but toys; renown and grace is dead,

The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees

Is left this vault to brag of.

Don. What is amiss?

Macb. You are, and do not know 't:

 86 sprites: spirits

87 countenance: behold (?), be in keeping with (?)

100 mortality: mortal life

101 toys: trivialities

102 lees: dregs

103 vault; cf. n.

