Mr. VVilliam Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies Published according to the true originall copies.

Scena Prima.

Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting Gentlewoman.

Doct.

I haue too Nights watch'd with you, but can perceiue no truth in your report. When was it shee last walk'd?

Gent.

Since his Maiesty went into the Field, I haue seene her rise from her bed, throw her Night-Gown vp∣pon her, vnlocke her Closset, take foorth paper, folde it, write vpon't, read it, afterwards Seale it, and againe re∣turne to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleepe.

Doct.

A great perturbation in Nature, to receyue at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actuall performances, what (at any time) haue you heard her say?

Gent.

That Sir, which I will not report after her.

Doct.

You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should.

Gent.

Neither to you, nor any one, hauing no witnesse to confirme my speech.

Enter Lady, with a Taper.

Lo you, heere she comes: This is her very guise, and vp∣on my life fast asleepe: obserue her, stand close.

Doct.

How came she by that light?

Gent.

Why it stood by her: she ha's light by her con∣tinually, 'tis her command.

Doct.

You see her eyes are open.

Gent.

I but their sense are shut.

Doct.

What is it she do's now? Looke how she rubbes her hands.

Gent.

It is an accustom'd action with her, to seeme thus washing her hands: I haue knowne her continue in this a quarter of an houre.

Lad.

Yet heere's a spot.

Doct.

Heark, she speaks, I will set downe what comes from her, to satisfie my remembrance the more strongly.

La.

Out damned spot: out I say. One: Two: Why then 'tis time to doo't: Hell is murky. Fye, my Lord, fie, a Souldier, and affear'd? what need we feare? who knowes it, when none can call our powre to accompt: yet who would haue thought the olde man to haue had so much blood in him.

Doct.

Do you marke that?

Lad.

The Thane of Fife, had a wife: where is she now? What will these hands ne're be cleane? No more o' that my Lord, no more o' that: you marre all with this star∣ting.

Doct.

Go too, go too: You haue knowne what you should not.

Gent.

She ha's spoke what shee should not, I am sure of that: Heauen knowes what she ha's knowne.

La.

Heere's the smell of the blood still: all the per∣fumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh.

Doct.

What a sigh is there? The hart is sorely charg'd.

Gent.

I would not haue such a heart in my bosome, for the dignity of the whole body.

Doct.

Well, well, well.

Gent.

Pray God it be sir.

Doct.

This disease is beyond my practise: yet I haue knowne those which haue walkt in their sleep, who haue dyed holily in their beds.

Lad.

Wash your hands, put on your Night-Gowne, looke not so pale: I tell you yet againe Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on's graue.

Doct.

Euen so?

Lady.

To bed, to bed: there's knocking at the gate: Come, come, come, come, giue me your hand: What's done, cannot be vndone. To bed, to bed, to bed.

Exit Lady.

Doct.

Will she go now to bed?

Gent.

Directly.

Doct.

Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds Do breed vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes To their deafe pillowes will discharge their Secrets: More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian: God, God forgiue vs all. Looke after her, Remoue from her the meanes of all annoyance, And still keepe eyes vpon her: So goodnight, My minde she ha's mated, and amaz'd my sight, I thinke, but dare not speake.

Gent.

Good night good Doctor.

Exeunt.