for it has been two nights_join

Lady Macbeth is sleepwalking and performing strange actions. She speaks about guilt and blood on her hands. Her doctor and attendant observe her behavior. Lady Macbeth is troubled and disturbed. The doctor cannot help her and suggests she needs divine intervention. They decide to keep a close eye on her. The doctor is shocked and afraid to speak. For it has been two nights I have watched, and ye can perceive no truth in your reports. When was it she last walked? Since His Majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon herself, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, again return to her bed. All on the most fast of sleeps. A great perturbation in nature to receive both the benefit of sleep and the effects of wakefulness. I mean, besides her walking and performances, what at any time have you heard her say? That, sir, which I will not report after her. You may to me, it is most meet you should. Neither to you nor anyone, having no witness to confirm my speech nor indignations. Lo, you, here she comes. This is her very guise, and upon my life she is fast asleep. How come she by that light? Why, it sit by her, she is lit by her continually. It is her command. You see, her eyes are open. Aye, but their senses shut. What is that she does now? Look, look how she washes her hands. It is an accustomed action with her. Seemed thus washing her hands. I have known her continue this a quarter of an hour. Yet, here is a spot. Hark, she speaks. I will sit down what comes from her to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. Out, damned spot, out, I say. One, two, why then, tis time to do it. Hell is murky, female or fee, a soldier and a fear. What we fear, who knows it, when none can call our power to account. Yet who would have thought the old man to have so much blood in him? Do you mark that? The fate of thieves had a wife. Where is she now? What, will these hands never be clean? No more of that, my lord, no more of that. You mar with all this starring. Go to, go to. You have known what you should not. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that. Heaven shows what she has known. Here is the smell of blood. Still, all the perfumes of her abbey will never sweeten this little hand. What a sigh is there. The heart is sorely charged. I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body. Ah, well. Pray God it be well, sir. This disease is far beyond my practice. Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep will have died holily in their beds. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown. Look not so pale as to tell you yet, Barrow's bank was buried. Cannot come out one's own grave. Even so? To bed, to bed now. There's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come. Give me your hand. What's done cannot be done. To bed, to bed, to bed. Will she go now to bed? Directly. Ah, foul whispers are abroad. Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles. Effective minds to their death pills will discharge their secrets. More need she the divine than a physician. God, God forgive us all. Look after her. Remove her from the means of all annoyance and still keep eyes upon her. So, good night. My mind, she's made it and amazed my sight is. I think but dare not speak.