M’Lady
From what I heard, my Lady has gone mad. Washing her hands of blood not present, the gentlewomen and the doctor bear witness of her madness. Waling when not present, in a trance once sleeping. The tortured speech squaling from her lips, cleaning the imaginary mess on her hands. The doctor describes it as,
“Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds to their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. More needs she the divine than the physician.-- God, God, forgive us all!--Look after her; Remove from her the means of all annoyance, and still keep eyes upon her:--so, good-night: My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight: I think, but dare not speak, “ (5.1.2194-202).
My poor lady, mad with the deeds she had confirmed were done without consequence.
