An unmannerly dagger, and a dagger breech’d, or as in some editions breach’d with gore, are expressions not easily to be understood, nor can it be imagined that Shakespeare would reproach the murderer of his king only with want of manners.  There are, undoubtedly, two faults in this passage, which I have endeavoured to take away by reading,

—­Daggers
Unmanly drench’d with gore.—­

I saw drench’d with the king’s Mood the fatal daggers, not only instruments of murder but evidences of cowardice.

Each of these words might easily be confounded with that which I have substituted for it by a hand not exact, a casual blot, or a negligent inspection.

Mr. Pope has endeavoured to improve one of these lines, by substituting goary blood for golden blood, but it may easily be admitted, that he who could on such an occasion talk of lacing the silver skin, would lace it with golden blood.  No amendment can be made to this line, of which every word is equally faulty, but by a general blot.

It is not improbable, that Shakespeare put these forced and unnatural metaphors into the mouth of Macbeth, as a mark of artifice and dissimulation, to show the difference between the studied language of hypocrisy, and the natural outcries of sudden passion.  This whole speech, considered in this light, is a remarkable instance of judgment, as if consists entirely of antitheses and metaphors.

NOTE XXIV.

ACT III.  SCENE II.

Macbeth.—­Our fears in Banquo
Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature
Reigns that, which would be fear’d.  ’Tis much he dares,
And to that dauntless temper of his mind,
He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
To act in safety.  There is none but he,
Whose being I do fear:  and, under him,
My genius is rebuk’d; (a)_as, it is said,
Anthony’s was by Caesar_.  He chid the sisters,
When first they put the name of king upon me,
And bade them speak to him; then, prophet-like,
They hail’d him father to a line of kings: 
Upon my head they plac’d a fruitless crown,
And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,
Thence to be wrench’d with an unlineal hand,
No son of mine succeeding.  If ’tis so,
For Banquo’s issue have I ’fil’d my mind;
For them, the gracious Duncan have I murther’d,
Put rancours in the vessel of my peace
Only for them; and mine eternal jewel
Given to the (b)_common enemy of man_,
To make them kings,—­the seed of Banquo kings. 
Rather than so, come fate into the list,
(c)And champion me to th’ utterance!—­

(a)—­As, it is said,
  Anthony’s was by Caesar.