LADY M. That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold:
What hath quench'd them hath given me fire:—
Hark! Peace! It was the owl that shriek'd,
The fatal bellman which gives the stern'st good night.
He is about it: The doors are open;
And the surfeited grooms do mock their charge with snores:
I have drugged their possets,
That death and nature do contend about them,
Whether they live, or die.
MACB. [Within,] Who's there?—what, hoa!
LADY M. Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd,
And 'tis not done:—the attempt, and not the deed,
Confound us:—Hark!—I laid their daggers ready,
He could not miss them.—Had he not resembled
My father as he slept I had done't—My husband!
Enter Macbeth.
MACB. I have done the deed:—Didst thou not hear a noise?—
LADY M. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry.
Did you not speak? MACB. When?
LADY M. Now.
MACB. As I descended?
LADY M. Ay. MACB. Hark!—
Who lies i' the second chamber?
LADY M. Donalbain.