he wound it makes;
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark!"_

This speech of the devilish Lady Macbeth made a deep impression on the
audience, and caused the King to squirm in his throne chair at the
contemplation of the murder of Duncan, but when William entered as Macbeth
and rendered the following speech James wished himself a million miles
away, and yet applauded to the echo the murdering thoughts of the Scottish
chieftain:

_"If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well
It were done quickly. If the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch,
With his surcease, success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,--
We'd jump the life to come; but, in these cases
We still have judgment here; that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which being taught, return
To plague the inventor. This evenhanded justice
Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice,
To our own lips. He's here in double trust;
First as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,
Who should against his murderer shut the door,
Not bear the knife himself. Besides, this Duncan
Hath born his faculties so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking off;
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
Upon the sightless coursers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That tears shall drown the wind; I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other!"_

Still brooding on the murder of Duncan, Macbeth says:

_"Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle towards 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 oppressed brain?
I see thee yet in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools of the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest; I see thee