DOCTOR. This disease is beyond my practice: yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds.

LADY MACBETH. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale. I tell you yet again, Banquo’s buried; he cannot come out on’s grave.

DOCTOR. Even so?

LADY MACBETH. To bed, to bed. There’s knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What’s done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed.

[_Exit._]

DOCTOR. Will she go now to bed?

GENTLEWOMAN. Directly.