LADY MACBETH.
To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate: come, come, come,
come, give me your hand: what's done cannot be undone: to bed, to
bed, to bed.
[Exit.]
DOCTOR.
Will she go now to bed?
GENTLEWOMAN.
Directly.
DOCTOR.
Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds
Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the divine than the physician. —
God, God, forgive us all! — Look after her;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her: — so, good-night:
My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight:
I think, but dare not speak.
GENTLEWOMAN.
Good-night, good doctor.
[Exeunt.]
