of his letter; or rather, that
the letter itself acts upon her mind as the prophecy of the Weird
Sisters on the mind of her husband, kindling the latent passion for
empire into a quenchless flame. We are prepared to see the train of
evil, first lighted by hellish agency, extend itself to _her_ through
the medium of her husband; but we are spared the more revolting idea
that it originated with her. The guilt is thus more equally divided than
we should suppose, when we hear people pitying "the noble nature of
Macbeth," bewildered and goaded on to crime, solely or chiefly by the
instigation of his wife.

It is true that she afterwards appears the more active agent of the two;
but it is less through her preeminence in wickedness than through her
superiority of intellect. The eloquence--the fierce, fervid eloquence
with which she bears down the relenting and reluctant spirit of her
husband, the dexterous sophistry with which she wards off his
objections, her artful and affected doubts of his courage--the sarcastic
manner in which she lets fall the word coward--a word which no man can
endure from another, still less from a woman, and least of all from a
woman he loves--and the bold address with which she removes all
obstacles, silences all arguments, overpowers all scruples, and marshals
the way before him, absolutely make us shrink before the commanding
intellect of the woman, with a terror in which interest and admiration
are strangely mingled.

LADY MACBETH.

He has almost supp'd: why have you left the chamber?

MACBETH.

Hath he ask'd for me?

LADY MACBETH.

Know you not, he has?

MACBETH.

We will proceed no farther in this business;
He hath honored me of late, and I have bought
Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
Not cast aside so soon.

LADY MACBETH.

Was the hope drunk,
Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since,
And wakes it now, to look so green and pale
At what it did so freely? From this time,
Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard
To be the same in thine own act and valor,
As thou art in desire? Would'st thou have that
Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,
And live a coward in thine ow