MACBETH I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself,
And falls on th’other.
Enter Lady
How now? What news?
LADY He has almost supped. Why have you left the chamber?
MACBETH Hath he asked for me?
LADY Know you not he has? (1.7.25-30)
I just can’t justify it, he says. I can’t pretend that there’s any reason at all for me to assassinate my king, this good old man, except my own ambition. That’s my only spur, as he imagines his intent, his plan as a horse, being urged on. That’s the only incentive, my ambition. And ambition, vaulting ambition—it’s the sin of the over-reacher, like Lucifer, or Tamburlaine, or Faustus, wanting too much, getting above yourself. Macbeth imagines ambition as being like a rider who o’erleaps his horse, vaulting so high that he misses the saddle completely and crashes down on the other side. There’s an interesting play of scales here, the relative smallness (but sharpness, the niggle) of the spur, the momentousness of the plan itself, the mere idea of killing a king. And the imagining of that heavy fall, a horse, a rider crashing to the ground. (A contrast to the sightless couriers of the air, the wind streaming with angelic riders, which Macbeth has just been invoking.) He’s almost talked himself out of it, he knows what a mad plan it is, and how wholly unjustified and unjustifiable. So—enter Lady. She’s missed him and she knows what he’s like, the way he frets, talks himself out of something or into something, so she’s implicitly come to check that he’s still on course. His question is innocent (but guilty – he knows that she knows that he’s wavering):How now? What news? What’s up, babe? He has almost supped. (She’s not naming Him. Duncan.) He’s almost done with dinner, ready for bed soon, the old man. Where have you been? What are you doing? Why have you left the chamber? It looks odd, rude, that the King—the King!—is still eating and you, his host, you’ve left. Hath he asked for me? A pathetic question from Macbeth, he knows that he’s done something noticeably odd, coming out for this breath of air, to get another bottle, have a fag, give himself a talking to. Of course he bloody has, his wife replies. You know that, you fool; know you not he has? What the hell are you playing at?
