LADY MACBETH looking at her hands Shall I never be able to clean these hands? There's still human blood here. Thee perfumes of all Arabia could not clean this little hand. Alas!
DOCTOR Is she moaning?
LADY MACBETH Put on your nightgown. Come on, wash yourself! Banquo is dead and no-one has ever come back from the grave.
DOCTOR This too?
LADY MACBETH To bed, to bed … What's done cannot be undone. Someone is knocking! Come on, Macbeth, do not let your pallor accuse you.
GENTLEWOMAN and DOCTOR Oh, horror! Lord, have mercy on her!