66 LITERATURE AND DRAMA 



Gentlewoman. Why, it stood by her : she has light by her con- 

 tinually ; 'tis her command. 



Physician. You see, her eyes are open. 



Gentlewoman. Ay, but their sense is shut. 



Physician. What is it she does now 1 Look, how she rubs her 

 hands. 



Gentlewoman. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus 

 washing her hands : I have known her continue in this a quarter 

 of an hour. 



Lady. Yet here's a spot. 



Physician. Hark ! she speaks. 



Lady. Out, damned spot ! out, I say ! One :G3 two : why, then 

 'tis time to do't. 64 Hell is murky ! Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier, and 

 afeard ? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our 

 power to account ? Yet who would have thought the old man to 

 have had so much blood in him ? 



Physician. Do you mark that 1 



Lady. The thane of Fife had a wife : 65 where is she now 1 What, 

 will these hands ne'er 66 be clean ? No more o' that, my lord, no more 

 o' that : 67 you mar all with this starting. 



Physician. Go to, go to ; you have known what you should not. 



Gentlewoman. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of 

 that : heaven knows what she has known. 



Lady. Here's the smell of the blood still : all the perfumes of 

 Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oA/68 



Physician. What a sigh is there ! The heart is sorely charged. 



This is the last of these notes by which we have been able to 

 follow the great actress from the exalted prophetic tone of her 

 entrance to the sigh of imbecility at the end. 



63 Listening eagerly. 64 A strange unnatural whisper, 



es v er y melancholy tone. 66 Melancholy- peevishness. 



67 Eager whisper. 



68 This not a sigh. A convulsive shudder very horrible. A tone of imbe- 

 cility audible in the sigh. 



