Page:Macbeth (1918) Yale.djvu/60

48

Lords. What, my good lord?

Macb. Thou canst not say I did it: never shake

Thy gory locks at me.

Ross. Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not well.

Lady M. Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus,

And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat;

The fit is momentary; upon a thought

He will again be well. If much you note him

You shall offend him and extend his passion:

Feed and regard him not. Are you a man?

Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that

Which might appal the devil.

Lady M. O proper stuff!

This is the very painting of your fear;

This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,

Led you to Duncan. O! these flaws and starts—

Impostors to true fear—would well become

A woman's story at a winter's fire,

Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself!

Why do you make such faces? When all's done

You look but on a stool.

Macb. Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you?

Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.

If charnel-houses and our graves must send

Those that we bury back, our monuments

Shall be the maws of kites.

Lady M. What! quite unmann'd in folly?

Macb. If I stand here, I saw him.

Lady M. Fie, for shame!



55 upon a thought: in a moment

60 proper stuff: perfect nonsense

63 flaws: outbursts

64 Impostors to: mere counterfeits of

66 Authoriz'd by: told on the authority of

71 charnel-houses: tombs; cf. n.

73 maws: stomachs

