ife into shadow, but never as yet brought into direct
contact with their own correspondent realities. She evinces no womanly
life, no wifely joy, at the return of her husband, no pleased terror at
the thought of his past dangers, whilst Macbeth bursts forth naturally--

"My dearest love"--

and shrinks from the boldness with which she presents his own thoughts to
him. With consummate art she at first uses as incentives the very
circumstances, Duncan's coming to their house, &c., which Macbeth's
conscience would most probably have adduced to her as motives of
abhorrence or repulsion. Yet Macbeth is not prepared:--

"We will speak further."

_Ib._ sc. 6. The lyrical movement with which this scene opens, and the
free and unengaged mind of Banquo, loving nature, and rewarded in the love
itself, form a highly dramatic contrast with the laboured rhythm and
hypocritical over-much of Lady Macbeth's welcome, in which you cannot
detect a ray of personal feeling, but all is thrown upon the "dignities,"
the general duty.

_Ib._ sc. 7. Macbeth's speech:--

"We will proceed no further in this business:
He hath honour'd 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."

Note the inward pangs and warnings of conscience interpreted into
prudential reasonings.

Act ii. sc. 1. Banquo's speech:--

"A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers!
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts, that nature
Gives way to in repose."

The disturbance of an innocent soul by painful suspicions of another's
guilty intentions and wishes, and fear of the cursed thoughts of sensual
nature.

_Ib._ sc. 2. Now that the deed is done or doing--now that the first reality
commences, Lady Macbeth shrinks. The most simple sound strikes terror, the
most natural consequences are horrible, whilst previously every thing,
however awful, appeared a mere trifle; conscience, which before had been
hidden to Macbeth in selfish and prudential fears, now rushes in upon him
in her own veritable person:--

"Methought I heard a voice cry--Sleep no more!
I could not say Amen,
When they did say, God bless us!"

And see the novelty given to the most familiar images by a new state of
feeling.

_Ib._ sc. 3. This low soliloquy of the Porter and his few speeches
afterwards, I believe to have been written for the mob by some other han