Why, worthy thane
You do unbend your noble strength, to think
So brain-sickly of things:—go, get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.—
Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
They must lie there. Go. Carry them; and smear
The sleepy grooms with blood.
Mac. I’ll go no more;
I am afraid to think on what I have done.
Look out again I dare not.