Aside to Malcolm . What should be spoken here, where our fate, Hid in an auger-hole, may rush, and seize us? Let’s away; Our tears are not yet brew’d.

Aside to Donalbain . Nor our strong sorrow Upon the foot of motion.

Look to the lady: Lady Macbeth is carried out. And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet, And question this most bloody piece of work, To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us: In the great hand of God I stand; and thence Against the undivulged pretence I fight Of treasonous malice.