The Tragedy of Macbeth

In plain English

The alcohol that got the guards drunk has made me courageous. What put them to sleep has energized me. Listen—be quiet. It was just an owl shrieking, nature's death messenger, signaling the final goodnight. He's committing the murder right now. The doors are unlocked, and the overfed guards are failing their duty with their snoring. I drugged their drinks so heavily that life and death are fighting over them.

What’s happening

Lady Macbeth waits alone while Macbeth murders Duncan. She has drugged the guards' drinks and is waiting in agonizing suspense. The speech oscillates between forced bravado and nervous alertness. Every sound alarms her and she must reassure herself, revealing the strain beneath her composure.

Worth knowing

The owl was known as a harbinger of death. The 'fatal bellman' refers to watchmen who rang bells outside the homes of condemned prisoners the night before execution, signaling their 'goodnight' to the world.

Playing the moment

Play the tension between manufactured confidence and genuine anxiety. The opening lines should be clipped, almost fierce. 'Hark!—Peace.' needs a sharp intake of breath, a moment of genuine alarm before recovery. Build urgency: she's waiting for confirmation that it's done. Physical stillness contrasting with vocal energy works well—she's frozen in place, listening. Avoid playing her as purely cold; the adrenaline is real, and so is the fear beneath it.

In plain English

Who is that? What's going on out there?

What’s happening

Macbeth has just murdered Duncan and is exiting the chamber, possibly hearing a noise or startling at shadows. His nerves are shattered. This is a moment of raw panic—he calls out instinctively, breaking the silence he so desperately needs to maintain. Lady Macbeth, waiting nearby, will hear him and fear the murder has been botched.

Playing the moment

This line should land like a sudden flinch—sharp, too loud, the reflex of a man whose hands are still shaking. Some actors deliver it as a guilty startle at an actual sound; others play it as paranoia, jumping at nothing. The danger is making it too composed; Macbeth is unravelling. Keep it abrupt, breathless, slightly too loud for someone who just committed murder and needs to go unnoticed.

In plain English

Oh no, I'm afraid they've woken up, and the murder isn't even done. Planning it but not following through will destroy us. Listen! I put the daggers out for him; he couldn't have missed them. If he hadn't looked like my father sleeping, I would have done it myself. My husband?

What’s happening

Lady Macbeth hears Macbeth's offstage cry ('Who's there? what, ho!') and panics, fearing the plan has unraveled. She is alone, straining to interpret sounds in the darkness. This speech reveals her first crack of vulnerability—the image of her father makes murder impossible for her, undermining her earlier claim that she would dash out an infant's brain. The final line shifts from solitary anxiety to urgent connection as Macbeth reappears.

Playing the moment

Play the escalating anxiety—'Alack' should land with genuine dread, not performed confidence. The father line (646) is the psychological crux: it must land as an involuntary confession, something she almost says to herself. Some actresses deliver it with sudden softness, others with a shudder of recognition. The final 'My husband?' (647) is not tender but urgent and interrogative—she needs information immediately.

In plain English

I've killed him. Didn't you hear something? I'm asking if you heard a noise.

What’s happening

Macbeth has just murdered King Duncan and emerges from the chamber in a dazed, panicked state. The blunt phrase 'done the deed' is his attempt to name what he's done — a euphemism that can barely contain the horror. His question about a noise reveals his paranoia; he's terrified someone heard or saw something. He needs Lady Macbeth to ground him, to confirm reality.

Playing the moment

The line should carry shock, exhaustion, and dread. 'I have done the deed' can land with terrible finality — a whispered confession or a hollow statement of fact. The question that follows should feel genuinely anxious, not casual. Some actors play it breathless, barely able to get the words out; others deliver it with a strange, numb detachment. The physical state matters: Macbeth likely still holds the daggers, his hands bloody, his body betraying his mental unraveling.

In plain English

I heard the owl shriek and the crickets chirp. Didn't you just say something?

What’s happening

Lady Macbeth is covering for the noise Macbeth made, deflecting attention while her nerves hum with tension. She must not acknowledge the murder directly in case the grooms are stirring. Her pulse is racing, her alertness is razor-sharp, and every sound registers as a potential threat. She needs to stay composed and protective.

Playing the moment

This line is often delivered quickly, half-whispered, with controlled fear. Lady Macbeth is performing calm she doesn't feel. The contrast between her composed surface and her internal alarm is the engine of the scene. Some actors play the question as genuinely uncertain, others as strategic deflection to buy time. The owl and crickets—nature itself—seem to cry out against the deed.

In plain English

Just now? You spoke just now?

What’s happening

Macbeth is in a state of panicked disorientation after murdering Duncan. His mind is racing, flooded with adrenaline and guilt. He needs to confirm what he heard — whether Lady Macbeth spoke or if he imagined it. This single word reveals how unmoored he is, barely able to follow a simple conversation.

Playing the moment

This single word should land with distracted urgency. Macbeth is not truly listening; his mind is still in Duncan's chamber, replaying the murder. The word can be played as confused, paranoid, or breathless — a man whose senses are overwhelmed. Some actors deliver it sharply, almost accusingly; others make it dreamlike, as if surfacing from a trance. The key is that he is not fully present.

In plain English

Just now. You spoke as you were coming down from the king's chamber.

What’s happening

Lady Macbeth is pinpointing the exact moment Macbeth spoke, guiding him through the frantic, disorienting aftermath of the murder. She needs clarity and control, trying to focus her husband's scattered mind on practical concerns rather than panic. This single word manages the timeline and keeps Macbeth grounded.

Playing the moment

A single word, but pregnant with tension. Some actresses clip it short and decisive — almost interrogative — as if still confirming Macbeth's movements. Others stretch it into a sigh of relief or realization, the moment the timeline locks into place. The delivery should feel alert, precise, and slightly breathless. Volume can be low but intensity high.

In plain English

You mean as I was coming downstairs? As I was leaving the king's chamber?

What’s happening

Macbeth is in a state of panicked disorientation after murdering Duncan. He and Lady Macbeth are trying to establish whether anyone heard them—they're jumping on each other's words, terrified of being caught. This line is Macbeth's dazed attempt to pinpoint the moment Lady Macbeth heard him speak. His mind is racing, grasping for clarity.

Playing the moment

This should feel scattered and breathless. Macbeth is barely tracking the conversation—his body has left the murder chamber but his mind is still there. Keep the question genuinely confused, not rhetorical. Brief pause before 'descended' as he struggles to recall. Some actors play this with a voice still hoarse from the deed. The short, broken exchanges in this scene demand rapid, overlapping delivery to sustain the hysteria.

In plain English

Yes.

What’s happening

Lady Macbeth confirms that she did hear Macbeth speak — specifically as he was coming downstairs from Duncan's chamber. She is alert, tense, and managing the situation. Macbeth is already unraveling; she is trying to keep things focused and controlled.

Playing the moment

Keep this clipped and quiet — barely above a whisper. The murder is moments old; both characters are listening for any sound that might mean discovery. There is no room for performance here. Lady Macbeth is tracking Macbeth's mental state and finding it already fragile. Some actresses play it with a slight edge of impatience, as if she is already having to steady him. The brevity matters: she is efficient where he is spiraling.

In plain English

Listen! — Who is sleeping in the second bedroom?

What’s happening

Macbeth has just murdered Duncan and is descending from the king's chamber. He is hyper-vigilant, jumping at every sound, suddenly worried about witnesses. The dash marks a sharp break — he interrupts himself, seized by paranoid urgency. He needs reassurance that no one else was nearby.

Playing the moment

Play the 'Hark!' as genuine startlement — Macbeth's nerves are screaming. The dash is a hard pivot: he physically stops mid-stride, seized by a new fear. Energy is frantic, breathless. Volume can drop sharply after the dash as paranoia kicks in — he's terrified of being overheard but desperate to know. The question should land with genuine urgency; he's realizing how little he surveyed the scene beforehand.

In plain English

Donalbain is sleeping in the second chamber.

What’s happening

Macbeth has just murdered Duncan and is frantically asking who lies in the nearby room—either seeking information or freezing in paranoid fixation. Lady Macbeth answers with clipped efficiency, her mind fixed on the practical details of the crime. She needs to keep Macbeth focused and moving, not spiraling into panic.

Playing the moment

This single word must carry weight. Options: a flat, clinical answer showing emotional detachment; a quick, urgent whisper to maintain pace; or a pointed reminder that Donalbain is a witness who must be considered. The brevity itself reveals her composure against Macbeth's unraveling. Most productions deliver it curtly, emphasizing the psychological contrast between them.

What’s happening

Macbeth has just murdered King Duncan and is descending the stairs, reeling from the violence. He looks at his blood-covered hands. He is in shock, barely present, and Lady Macbeth's sharp pragmatism will immediately push back against this moment of conscience. The line is the first crack in his composure after the killing.

Playing the moment

Deliver this half-dazed, almost to yourself — not as a complaint but as a stunned observation. Macbeth is fixated on his hands; he may not even be fully addressing Lady Macbeth. Keep the volume low and the energy hollow. The line should feel like a man waking from a nightmare he cannot escape. Lady Macbeth's brisk dismissal — 'A foolish thought' — works best if your line is quiet and vulnerable enough to make her deflection feel jarring.

In plain English

That's a foolish thought—to call it a sorry sight.

What’s happening

Macbeth has just stared at his blood-soaked hands and called them 'a sorry sight.' Lady Macbeth immediately shuts down his guilt before it can spiral. She needs him functional—they still have blood to plant on the grooms. Her priority is keeping him composed and moving forward.

Playing the moment

The line mirrors his exact words ('sorry sight'), making this a deliberate echo designed to dismiss and reframe. Delivery options: brisk and practical (shaking it off), sharp and commanding (snapping him out of it), or with the first flicker of strain—she's working harder now to hold him together. The key is speed; she cannot let him dwell. Some actors land a slight beat before 'foolish,' as if biting back sharper words.

In plain English

One of them laughed in his sleep, and the other one shouted 'Murder!' They woke each other up. I stood there listening to them. But then they said their prayers and went back to sleep.

What’s happening

Macbeth is reporting what he heard in the chamber after the murder, still in shock and mechanically recounting details. He is trapped in a loop of obsessive recall, unable to stop reliving the moment. The matter-of-fact delivery makes the horror more unsettling — he is dissociating from what he has just done.

Playing the moment

The power here is in the restraint. Macbeth is likely speaking in a hushed, haunted tone — almost whispering, transfixed by memory. The fragmented, incomplete thoughts suggest a mind struggling to process trauma. Some actors deliver 'Murder!' with a sudden start or flinch, as if hearing it again. The final lines should carry an eerie bewilderment — he cannot believe they simply went back to sleep.

In plain English

There are two people sleeping in the same room together.

What’s happening

Lady Macbeth responds to Macbeth's fragmented, guilt-ridden account of hearing the sleeping servants wake each other. Her line is a cold, practical observation — she's tracking details, possibly confirming the location of Donalbain, mentioned just before. She feels no horror; she is managing the situation while Macbeth unravels.

Playing the moment

Deliver this flatly, almost clinically. The contrast with Macbeth's agitated energy is the point. Lady Macbeth is controlled, grounded, matter-of-fact. Some actors whisper it conspiratorially; others say it with detached calm. The line should feel like a sharp pivot away from Macbeth's emotional spiral.

In plain English

One of the sleeping servants cried out 'God bless us!' and the other answered 'Amen,' as if they could see my bloodstained, murderer's hands. I listened to their fear, but I couldn't bring myself to say 'Amen' when they said 'God bless us!'

What’s happening

Macbeth has just returned from murdering King Duncan and is unraveling. He is fixated on a specific, haunting detail — hearing the servants pray in their sleep and being unable to join in with 'Amen.' This is the first crack in his psyche, a sign that his soul is already fractured. He needs Lady Macbeth to hear his terror, but he's also spiraling into obsessive self-examination that she cannot follow.

Worth knowing

In Jacobean theology, inability to say 'Amen' signified a soul cut off from God's grace — a state of damnation. Shakespeare's audience would recognize this as far more than nerves: Macbeth is describing a spiritual catastrophe, a mark of reprobation. The word 'hangman' carries weight because a hangman was considered spiritually unclean, his hands permanently polluted by death.

Playing the moment

Build from haunted recounting to genuine horror at line 3, where the inability to say 'Amen' hits him anew. The speech should feel compulsive — Macbeth is reliving the moment, almost confessing. Keep volume low; this is intimate terror, not projection. Let the quoted prayers ('God bless us!') be voiced as if he still hears them echoing. The caesura before 'I could not say' in line 3 is a held breath — a gap where the failed 'Amen' should physically lodge in the throat. Many actors gesture at their own hands on 'hangman's hands,' discovering them as if foreign objects. Resist the urge to rush; Macbeth is trapped in this memory.

In plain English

Don't think about it so much. Stop dwelling on what just happened.

What’s happening

Macbeth is spiraling into guilt and horror, obsessively recounting the guards' reactions. Lady Macbeth needs to snap him out of it before his unraveling draws attention or paralyzes them both. This is damage control — she's trying to shift him from emotion to action.

Playing the moment

The line can work multiple ways: as a sharp command, a forced calm, or a gentle but firm redirection. The key is that she's trying to control his mental state. Many actors play it with barely concealed urgency — she needs him functional, not philosophical. Some productions have her physically intervene, taking his face in her hands or gripping his arm to break his trance. The danger underneath is that his guilt could expose them both.

In plain English

But why couldn't I say 'Amen'? I needed God's blessing more than ever, but the word got caught in my throat.

What’s happening

Macbeth is spiraling into guilt-ridden panic immediately after murdering Duncan. He has fixated on his inability to say 'Amen' alongside the sleeping guards — a failure that feels like spiritual damnation. He is genuinely asking Lady Macbeth, but also wrestling with himself, beginning to understand the spiritual cost of what he's done.

Worth knowing

In Jacobean theology, being unable to say 'Amen' suggested that God had withdrawn grace from the sinner — essentially, a sign of damnation. This would have resonated deeply with Shakespeare's original audience as evidence that Macbeth's soul was already in jeopardy.

Playing the moment

The repeated questions show a mind starting to fracture. The first line can carry genuine bewilderment — almost childlike confusion. By 'I had most need of blessing,' the realization should dawn with horror. 'Stuck in my throat' is often accompanied by a physical gesture — hand to throat, gagging, or choking. Some actors whisper the speech; others grow increasingly agitated. The key is that Macbeth is past listening to Lady Macbeth's attempts to calm him.

In plain English

We can't dwell on what we've done. Thinking about it this way will drive us insane.

What’s happening

Macbeth is spiraling into guilt-ridden panic, obsessing over his inability to say 'Amen' and haunted by the sleeping guards' reactions. Lady Macbeth is desperately trying to snap him out of it and reassert control. She needs him functional enough to frame the guards and maintain their cover. This line is practical damage control, not comfort.

Worth knowing

This line carries bitter dramatic irony — Lady Macbeth's warning about madness proves prophetic. She who urges repression here will later unravel entirely in the sleepwalking scene (5.1), destroyed by the very thoughts she insists must not be 'thought after these ways.'

Playing the moment

The delivery should be sharp, clipped, almost commanding — she's trying to yank Macbeth back to reality. Some actresses play it with rising desperation underneath the practical tone; others keep it cold and controlled. The key is the tension between her composed surface and the urgency of needing Macbeth to pull himself together immediately.

In plain English

I thought I heard a voice cry out 'Sleep no more! Macbeth murders sleep—the innocent sleep, sleep that mends the tangled threads of worry, the death that ends each day's life, the soothing bath for exhausting labor, the healing medicine for troubled minds, nature's second greatest gift, the most important nourishment in life's feast.'

What’s happening

Macbeth is spiraling into guilt and horror immediately after murdering Duncan. He has just confessed that he could not say 'Amen' to the guards' prayers, and now he hallucinates a voice condemning him to eternal sleeplessness. This is the moment his psychological unraveling becomes undeniable—Lady Macbeth's attempts to steady him are failing.

Worth knowing

The personification of Sleep draws on classical and biblical traditions of sleep as a god or divine gift. The 'second course' refers to the second dish in a formal banquet, considered the most substantial. James I, Shakespeare's patron, wrote about sleep as a divine blessing and was himself plagued by insomnia and fears of assassination.

Playing the moment

This speech can be delivered with mounting awe and terror—Macbeth is hearing something cosmic in its implications. Many actors build from stunned whisper to horrified crescendo as the full weight of the curse lands. The catalog of sleep's virtues should gather momentum, each phrase piling on the loss. Physical stillness works well; Macbeth is paralyzed by what he's hearing inside his own head. Some productions have him gripping the imaginary daggers throughout, unable to let go.

In plain English

What are you talking about?

What’s happening

Macbeth has just described hearing a voice cry 'Macbeth does murder sleep' and launched into a poetic description of sleep's restorative powers. Lady Macbeth is trying to snap him out of his reverie and refocus him on the practical tasks at hand. She needs him functional, not spiraling into guilt.

Playing the moment

Short, sharp, clipped. This is a wake-up call — she's pulling him back from poetic abstraction into brutal reality. The line should land like a slap. Some actors play it with genuine confusion, but it lands better as calculated impatience: she knows exactly what he means, she just needs him to stop saying it. Volume and directness are more important than volume; a quiet, dangerous delivery can cut through his rambling more effectively than shouting.

In plain English

It kept crying 'Sleep no more!' throughout the entire house. The Thane of Glamis has murdered sleep, and therefore the Thane of Cawdor will never sleep again. Macbeth will never sleep again.

What’s happening

Macbeth is spiraling into guilt-ridden paranoia immediately after murdering Duncan. He's fixated on the mysterious voice he heard, repeating and expanding its prophecy. He moves from recounting what happened to pronouncing his own eternal punishment—insomnia as consequence and metaphor for his tormented conscience.

Worth knowing

The progression of titles—Glamis, Cawdor, King—is the witches' prophecy. Here Macbeth claims the first two titles but stops short, perhaps subconsciously recognizing what claiming the kingship would fully mean. Sleeplessness was associated with demonic possession and guilty conscience in Jacobean England.

Playing the moment

The speech should build in intensity. Line 683 is haunted recounting; by 684, realization is dawning. The mid-line break after 'Cawdor' creates a brutal pause before the sentence completes—use it. By 686, Macbeth is pronouncing his own damnation. The repetition of 'sleep no more' should feel obsessive, each iteration heavier. Some actors deliver the final line as whispered horror; others as a crescendo of panic. The best choice depends on how quickly you want Macbeth to unravel.

In plain English

Who said that? You're wasting your noble energy thinking like a madman. Go wash the blood off your hands. Why did you bring the daggers? Put them back and smear blood on the sleeping servants.

What’s happening

Lady Macbeth is trying to snap her husband out of his guilt-ridden daze after murdering Duncan. She needs him functional — there's still framing work to do. Her pragmatism clashes with his spiral. She's frustrated, almost parental, mixing dismissal ('brainsickly') with commands. Underneath her control is urgency: they're not safe yet.

Playing the moment

Play the dangerous pivot from comfort to command. Begin dismissive, even mocking — she thinks he's being ridiculous. 'Go get some water' should land as a firm redirect, practical and pointed. The daggers question ('Why did you bring—') is genuine frustration; she didn't anticipate this mistake. Many actors underplay her composure, but her power comes from being the only clear-thinking person in the room. Pace should quicken as she realizes he may not be able to finish the job — planting the seed for 'Infirm of purpose!'

In plain English

I refuse to go back in there. I'm terrified to even think about what I've done. I can't bear to look at it again.

What’s happening

Macbeth has just murdered Duncan and emerges from the king's chamber still carrying the daggers—a fatal mistake. Lady Macbeth orders him back to plant the weapons and frame the guards, but he refuses. This is the moment Macbeth's nerve completely breaks; the fearless warrior of battle has been destroyed by his own act. He cannot even name the murder, retreating into childlike denial.

Playing the moment

Each line should build in intensity—from flat refusal, to trembling confession, to outright paralysis. The final line often lands best delivered barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder would make it real. Some actors play this with genuine tears; others with a hollow, shocky numbness. The key is making the audience feel that something inside this man has fundamentally broken. The contrast with Lady Macbeth's brisk pragmatism should be stark.

In plain English

You coward! Hand over the daggers. Unconscious people and corpses might as well be paintings — only children are scared of painted monsters. If Duncan is still bleeding, I'll smear his blood on the sleeping guards' faces to pin the murder on them.

What’s happening

Macbeth has frozen in guilt and refuses to return the daggers to Duncan's chamber. Lady Macbeth seizes control, snatching the daggers to finish the job herself. She is furious at his weakness but also calculating — she knows the evidence must point to the guards. This is the moment she becomes the active partner in the murder.

Worth knowing

The 'painted devil' refers to devils painted on shields or wall hangings — decorative images that only a child would find frightening. The gild/guilt pun would have landed clearly for Shakespeare's audience.

Playing the moment

This speech often divides along two lines: contemptuous fury versus cold, efficient command. Some actors play 'Infirm of purpose!' as a withering insult; others deliver it almost clinically, as an observation. The physical business of grabbing the daggers is crucial — it should read as decisive action that shames Macbeth's paralysis. The final line ('For it must seem their guilt') lands best when delivered with grim satisfaction, the plan clicking into place.

In plain English

Where is that knocking coming from? What's wrong with me that every sound terrifies me? Look at my hands! They're so horrible they'll pull my eyes out. Could all the water in the world's oceans wash this blood from my hands? No, my hand would turn the oceans red instead.

What’s happening

Macbeth has just murdered Duncan. While Lady Macbeth left to plant the daggers, a knocking began—likely Macduff and Lennox arriving. The sound shatters Macbeth's already fractured state. He is spiraling into guilt and horror, obsessed with the blood on his hands. This speech marks his first real descent into the psychological torment that will haunt the rest of the play.

Worth knowing

The knocking was probably produced by knocking from offstage, creating a jarring sonic break. The Porter's scene that follows deliberately echoes the gate of Hell, making Macbeth's castle a hellish space.

Playing the moment

The speech should feel like a man unraveling in real time. Startle at the knocking. The hands speech shifts from frantic to hypnotic—Macbeth becomes almost entranced by the image of blood multiplying into oceans. Ian McKellen and others have played the 'multitudinous seas' line with a kind of horrified awe, as if the scale of guilt is just now dawning. Let the final phrase 'one red' land with terrible simplicity. Physical shaking or staring at hands can work, but avoid indicating guilt that isn't already in the language.

In plain English

My hands are just as bloody as yours, but I'd be ashamed to be as cowardly as you're being. I hear knocking at the south entrance—let's go back to our bedroom. Washing off this blood will be simple. You've lost your nerve entirely. Hurry and put on your nightgown so if someone comes we won't look suspicious. Stop wallowing in guilt.

What’s happening

Lady Macbeth takes command as Macbeth spirals into paralysis after murdering Duncan. She has just returned from smearing the grooms with blood and now must physically and emotionally manage her husband's breakdown while also dealing with the urgent practical threat of someone knocking at the gate. Her pragmatism masks her own strain—she is pushing down any horror to maintain control. The knocking creates mounting time pressure that drives the scene forward.

Worth knowing

The heart/liver distinction would have been physically vivid for Shakespeare's audience: the liver was considered the seat of courage, so 'lily-livered' meant cowardly. Lady Macbeth's practical confidence here makes her later sleepwalking breakdown in Act 5 dramatically ironic—her contempt for Macbeth's 'white heart' anticipates her own psychological collapse.

Playing the moment

The central tension: Lady Macbeth must project iron authority while her world is narrowing to panic. The knocking is an urgent external threat—each 'Hark' should land with genuine alarm before she suppresses it. Her contempt for Macbeth is real but also a tool to snap him out of paralysis. The famous risk is playing her as purely icy; fear and disgust should flicker beneath her efficiency. 'A little water clears us of this deed' gains devastating irony from her later sleepwalking scene—some actors play it with an edge of self-convincing. Pace should accelerate with each knock, driving toward the urgent exit.

In plain English

If I truly faced what I've done, I'd have to lose my mind. Whoever's knocking—bring Duncan back to life with it. I wish you could.

What’s happening

Lady Macbeth has just dragged him back toward practicality, but Macbeth is beyond reach. The knocking at the gate shatters the terrified silence and becomes, for him, an accusation—another sound that 'appalls' him. He is spiraling into guilt and fantasy, wishing impossible reversals. These are his last words before the Porter's comic intrusion shatters the claustrophobic tension.

Worth knowing

The grammatical collapse in line 723—'Wake Duncan with thy knocking'—is famously difficult. The 'thy' seems to address the knocking itself, as if commanding an abstract force to achieve the impossible. Some editors speculate an ellipsis: roughly, 'If only thy knocking could wake Duncan.' The ambiguity captures a mind breaking under guilt.

Playing the moment

The first line should land with grim, paradoxical finality—Macbeth recognizing that full awareness of his crime would destroy his sense of self. Let the second line crack open into raw, desperate wishing. Some actors play the last two words as a whisper, almost a prayer to no one. The speech marks a point of no return: he knows there is no going back, and the thought devastates him. Let the silence after 'couldst' hang before the Porter enters.