1 Well, may you see things well done there.
2 Well, let's away, and say how much is done.
3 Tis unnatural, Even like the deed that's done.
4 When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won.
5 I'll go no more: I am afraid to think what I have done; Look on't again I dare not.
6 The eye wink at the hand, yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
7 Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done't: Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood; So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found Upon their pillows.
8 Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further.
9 Ere the bat hath flown His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons The shard-born beetle, with his drowsy hums, Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note.
10 I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.'
11 All our service, In every point twice done, and then done double, Were poor and single business to contend Against those honours deep and broad wherewith Your Majesty loads our house: for those of old, And the late dignities heap'd up to them, We rest your hermits.