LADY              Come on, gentle my lord,

Sleek o’er your rugged looks, be bright and jovial

Among your guests tonight.

MACBETH      So shall I, love,

And so I pray be you. Let your remembrance

Apply to Banquo; present him eminence both

With eye and tongue. Unsafe the while that we

Must lave our honours in these flattering streams,

And make our faces visors to our hearts,

Disguising what they are.     (3.2.28-36)

Reassurance, admonishment? A bit more low-key than her customary get a grip, pull yourself together: it’s more, put a brave face on it, happy face! gentle my lord reminds him to be gentle, civilised, courteous, a gentleman, but it’s also soothing, as one might a child. It’s easy to read sleek o’er your rugged looks, smooth out your wrinkles, your frowns and grimaces as sleek o’er your rugged locks, go and comb your hair and wash your face while you’re about it, you’ll feel so much better! But the idea of changing appearance is important, and Macbeth picks up on it a few lines later. Be bright and jovial among your guests tonight, which frankly seems like a big ask, the state he’s in. Not another party!

A temporary calm: so shall I, love, and so I pray be you. Yes, I can do it, we can do it, we can get through this. Then slightly dangerous ground: let your remembrance apply to Banquo; present him eminence both with eye and tongue. I want you to be particularly nice to Banquo: treat him as the guest of honour, smile at him, gaze at him with approval and honour, make sure you speak with him, entertain him, see he has a good time. The point is, he hasn’t told her his plan, this plot to have Banquo murdered. That’s what immediately undercuts this brief moment of closeness, of a united front, a shared plan to get through the evening. (And there’s also perhaps the sense that Macbeth’s in denial about what he’s ordered, about what is, perhaps even now, being done at his command, the killing of his closest friend, and that friend’s child.) We’re not secure, unsafe the while, we must lave our honours in these flattering streams. We have to keep up appearances, play the game, allow the polite games of courtly ceremonies to wash over us. (An image of washing, which implicitly acknowledges that such washing is pointless; the idea of something washing over, not making any impression, not properly cleansing.) We must make our faces visors to our hearts, disguising what they are. And so Lady Macbeth’s instruction that he smooth o’er his rugged looks becomes literal, the idea of the smooth, hard, second face of the mask, concealing the truth, the horror within. They must dissemble; yet again, they must put on a show, pretend that everything’s fine. The precariousness and risk and fear of being an actor.

Cliffhanger! #DaggerDrawn is taking a Christmas break and will return in the New Year…