MACBETH
There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried 'Murder!' That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them: But they did say their prayers, and address'd them Again to sleep.
LADY MACBETH
There are two lodged together.
MACBETH
One cried 'God bless us!' and 'Amen' the other; As they had seen me with these hangman's hands. Listening their fear, I could not say 'Amen,' When they did say 'God bless us!'
LADY MACBETH
Consider it not so deeply.
MACBETH
But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'? I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen' Stuck in my throat.
LADY MACBETH
These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad.
Macbeth's agitation grows and becomes more removed from the practicalities of action. He recounts what has happened – not the murder itself, but the actions of the guards praying and moving from "sleep" to "wake" and back to "sleep". In contrast to the reality and irrevocable nature of the murder, it creates a kind of liminal space: Macbeth is struggling to tell the difference between what is imagined and what is real. Despite his assurance that he "stood and heard", his account seems unreal, verging on a madness. The contrast of "laugh" and "cry" is jarring, even before the dreamlike interjection of "murder!"; much like the "scream" of the owls, the guards' laughter is out of place and unnatural given the murder, creating terror. In the way they "say their prayers" and go "again to sleep" the guards represent a simplicity for which Macbeth now yearns. Their sleep is peaceful, and Macbeth exploits its vulnerability, whilst realising the horror of that exploitation. The guard's cry of "murder!" seems almost a divine intervention, a warning from a watching God who will "prate of my whereabout". Lady Macbeth may interrupt to explain, but Macbeth does not appear placated by rational explanation: he seems to want to suffer, whilst also being terrified of his guilt. He draws back again to his "hangman's hands", the image the audience shares, but his self-description (whilst nicely alliterative) feels wrong – the hangman follows the orders of the state against a criminal, whereas Macbeth initiates against a vulnerable old man. What it does indicate is that he realises his sin is a crime against God and will deny him God's grace. He is troubled by his inability to pray and receive blessing: "wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'?". Prayer here seems to have a dual role. On the one hand, he has "most need of blessing" to prevent him sinning, a desire for God's grace to stop him straying and help him to choose good. On the other hand, he needs prayer to begin a passage to absolution and redemption. He seems to want prayer, but he cannot articulate it – "'Amen / Stuck in my throat" - and is prevented from accessing God's grace as a result. Prayer goes with contemplation: he has sinned, but he must reflect, repent and confess before he can seek penance and be redeemed. He appears to be suffering and grieving for his crime and his mental anguish and torment is clearly visible to the audience, but it is not enough to earn him forgiveness. The speech raises complex questions about the relationship between sin, free will and predestination: is it Macbeth’s actions and subsequent guilt that push him away from God or is this a vengeful, Old Testament god who won’t lend his grace to those inclined towards sin? Before we can get caught in attempting to answer, Lady Macbeth interjects with a timely warning (to us, as much as Macbeth!) to “consider it not so deeply …. so, it will make us mad”. Whilst his wife’s response is dismissive and laced in proleptic irony, our reaction to Macbeth is perhaps more sympathetic and compassionate. Even though he knew the consequences of the act beforehand, reflecting on them at length in 1.7, and even though he is a murderer, we are pained by watching his pain.