MACB. This is a sorry sight. [Looking on his hands.
LADY M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
MACB. There's one did laugh in his sleep,
And one cried "murther!" that they did wake each other;
I stood and heard them: but they did say their prayers,
And address'd them again to sleep.
LADY M. There are two lodg'd together.
MACB. One cried, "God bless us!" and "Amen," the other;
As they had seen me, with these hangman's hands.
Listening their fear, I could not say, "Amen,"
When they did say, God bless us.
LADY M. Consider it not so deeply.
MACB. But wherefore could I not pronounce, "Amen?"
I had most need of blessing, and "Amen"
Stuck in my throat.
LADY M. These deeds must not be thought
After these ways; so, it will make us mad.
MACB. Methought, I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murther sleep,"—the innocent sleep;
Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.
LADY M. What do you mean?