Enter Macbeth
MACBETH Who’s there? What ho!
LADY Alack, I am afraid they have awaked
And ’tis not done. Th’attempt and not the deed
Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready;
He could not miss ’em. Had he not resembled
My father as he slept, I had done’t.—My husband!
MACBETH I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?
LADY I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.
Did not you speak?
MACBETH When?
LADY Now.
MACBETH As I descended?
LADY Ay. (2.1.8-17)
Some editions add ‘carrying two bloody daggers’ to the stage direction; it becomes apparent that he’s got them soon enough, but if it’s not there, then there’s more of a shock for the reader, mirroring the shock that both the Macbeths experience when they realise he’s still got the (bloody) things. The sense here is darkness and panic, Macbeth aware that someone’s there—who’s there? what ho? what’s going on?—but unable to see, and Lady Macbeth not at first identifying him, thinking that she’s perhaps hearing Duncan’s servants raising the alarm, crying out in fright and shock: Alack, I am afraid they have awaked and ’tis not done. She fears that they have been confounded, undone, ruined, not by the deed, the planned assassination of the King, but instead by being found out in the attempt, caught—as it were—red-handed. Hark! Another sound, real or imagined, for her to jump at, perhaps a footstep or other noise made by Macbeth himself. How could it possibly have gone wrong, though? She did everything she could to make it easy for Macbeth: I laid their daggers ready; he could not miss ’em. Everything in place, to kill the King and frame the hapless servants. And then a neat, economical moment of psychological insight and added horror: had he not resembled my father as he slept, I had done’t. A reinforcement of how transgressive this act is, the King as father, as kinsman, as loved old man, and a rare sign of vulnerability on the part of Lady Macbeth: she has, at some point, been capable of love, of mercy, of honour. (But, had it not been for that, she could and would have done it herself.)
My husband! (Macbeth gets lots of new titles in this play, but this is one that only she can address him with, a sign of their intimacy here.) Finally she realises it’s him, blundering around. And he recognises her, and confirms: I have done the deed. No more details. The deed, done, both key words in the play. It’s done. Then another switch: didst thou not hear a noise? Well, yes, I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. (Adding to the soundscape; this is the first mention of the crickets. Uncanny; they’re usually chirping away in happy pastoral scenes.) So jumpy: did you not speak? When? Now. As I descended? Ay. Descended is useful here; there’s a developing sense of the castle’s various spaces, unseen rooms and stairs. But it’s mostly shuddering, jittery, paranoid realism: was that you? is that you? is this us? did you hear something? what’s going on? This from a couple who are accustomed to finishing each other’s sentences, knowing each other’s minds, deepest fears and desires, exactly which buttons to push. We did it! What have we done?
