Macb. Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour, at most, I will advise you where to plant yourselves; Whose absence is no less material to me 2 Mur. We are resolv'd, my lord. Macb. I'll call upon you straight; abide within. It is concluded:--Banquo, thy soul's flight, If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. Another Room. Enter Lady MACBETH and a Servant. Lady M. Is Banquo gone from court? Serv. Ay, madam, but returns again to-night. Lady M. Say to the king, I would attend his leisure For a few words. Serv. Madam, I will. Lady M. Nought's had, all's spent, Where our desire is got without content; "Tis safer to be that, which we destroy, Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy, [Exit. Enter MACBETH. How now, my lord? why do you keep alone, Macb. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it; She'll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. But let The frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, That shake us nightly: Better be with the dead, In restless ecstacy, Duncan is in his grave; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Can touch him further! Lady M. Come on; Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks; Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue: Must lave our honours in these flattering streams; And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are. Lady M. You must leave this. Macb. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know'st, that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. Lady M. But in them nature's copy's not eterne. Macb. There's comfort yet; they are assailable; Then be thou jocund: Ere the bat hath flown His cloister'd flight; ere, to black Hecate's summons, The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums, Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done. A deed of dreadful note. Lady M. What's to be done? Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; And, with thy bloody and invisible hand, Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond, Which keeps me pale!-Light thickens; and the crow Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The same. A park or lawn, with a gate leading to the palace. Enter three Murderers. 1 Mur. But who did bid thee join with us? 3 Mur. Macbeth. 2 Mur. He needs not our mistrust; since he delivers Our offices, and what we have to do, To the direction just. 1 Mur. Then stand with us. The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day: To gain the timely inn; and near approaches 8 Mur. Hark! I hear horses. Ban. [Within.] Give us a light there, ho! That are within the note of expectation, 1 Mur. His horses go about. 3 Mur. Almost a mile: but he does usually, So all men do, from hence to the palace gate Make it their walk. Enter BANQUO and FLEANCE, a servant with a torch preceding them. 2 Mur. A light, a light! 3 Mur. 'Tis he. 1 Mur. Stand to't. Ban. It will be rain to-night. 1 Mur. Let it come down. [Assaults BANQUO. Ban. O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly; Thou may'st revenge.-O slave! [Dies. FLEANCE and servant escape. 3 Mur. Who did strike out the light? 1 Mur. Was't not the way? 3 Mur. There's but one down; the son is fled. 2 Mur. We have lost best half of our affair. 1 Mur. Well, let's away, and say how much is done. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-A room of state in the palace. A Banquet prepared. Enter MACBETH, Lady MACBETH, ROSSE, LENOX, Lords, and attendants. Macb. You know your own degrees, sit down: at first And last, the hearty welcome. Lords. Thanks to your majesty. Macb. Ourself will mingle with society, And play the humble host. Our hostess keeps her state; but, in best time, We will require her welcome. Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends; For my heart speaks, they are welcome. Enter first Murderer, to the door. Macb. See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks: Both sides are even: Here I'll sit i'the midst : Be large in mirth; anon, we'll drink a measure Macb. 'Tis better thee without, than he within. Mur. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him. Macb. Thou art the best o'the cut-throats: Yet he's good, That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it, Thou art the nonpareil. |