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Doctor:
What is it they do now? Look how they rub their hands.
Gentlewoman:
It is an accustom'd action with them, to seem thus washing their hands.
I have known them to continue in this a quarter of a century.
Macrino:
Yet here's a spot.
Doctor:
Hark, they speak. I will set down what comes from them, to satisfy my
remembrance the more strongly.
Macrino:
Out, damn'd spot! out, I say!—One; two: why, then 'tis time to
do't.—Hell is murky.—Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier, andafeard? What need
we fear who knows it, when none can call ourpow'r to accompt?—Yet who
would have thought the old men to have had so much blood in them?
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"My liege,
ReplyDeleteThey are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die; who did report
That very frankly he confessed his treasons,
Implor'd your Highness' pardon, and set forth
A deep repentance. Nothing in his life
Became him like the leaving it." ~Macbeth Act 1, scene 4, 1–8
Casca
We should be keeping score.
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