by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)
Translation by François-Victor Hugo (1828 - 1873)

Out, damned spot! out, I say! ‑‑ One:...
Language: English 
Out, damned spot! out, I say! -- One: two: why, then, 
'tis time to do't. -- Hell is murky! -- Fie, my 
lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we 
fear who knows it, when none can call our power 
to account? [...]
                    No more o' 
that, my lord, no more o' that; you mar all with 
this starting. 
[...]
Here's the smell of the blood still: all the 
perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little 
hand. Oh, oh, oh!
[...]
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.
[...]
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!

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Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

    [ None yet in the database ]


This text (or a part of it) is used in a work
  • by Joseph Horovitz (b. 1926), "Lady Macbeth", subtitle: "A Scena", 1970, Composer's note: The composer has selected the words from the speeches of Lady Macbeth. This selection is intended to portray the development of this character, from early aspirations to grandeur, to later power and finally to guilt and madness. The implication is that the Scena begins after Lady Macbeth has read the report of Macbeth's victory at the start of the play..

Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Text added to the website: 2016-01-09 00:00:00
Last modified: 2016-01-09 22:02:57
Line count: 20
Word count: 133

Va‑t’en, tache damnée ! va‑t’en, dis‑je…...
Language: French (Français)  after the English 
Va-t’en, tache damnée ! va-t’en, dis-je… Une ! deux ! 
Alors il est temps de faire la chose !… L’enfer est sombre ! 
… Fi ! monseigneur, fi ! un soldat avoir peur !… À quoi 
bon redouter qu’on le sache, quand nul ne pourra 
demander de comptes à notre autorité ? [...]

[...]
Assez, monseigneur, assez !
Vous gâtez tout avec ces frémissements.
[...]
Il y a toujours l’odeur du sang… Tous les parfums d’Arabie
ne rendraient pas suave cette petite main ! Oh ! oh ! oh !
[...]
Lavez vos mains, mettez votre robe de nuit, ne soyez pas
si pâle… Je vous le répète, Banquo est enterré, il
ne peut pas sortir de sa tombe.
[...]
Au lit ! au lit ! on frappe à la porte.
Venez, venez, venez, venez, donnez-moi votre main.
Ce qui est fait ne peut être défait :
au lit ! au lit ! au lit !

About the headline (FAQ)

Authorship

Based on

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

    [ None yet in the database ]


Researcher for this text: Guy Laffaille [Guest Editor]

Text added to the website: 2016-01-09 00:00:00
Last modified: 2016-01-09 22:26:51
Line count: 20
Word count: 156