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,
Scarf 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

Makes wing to the rooky wood;

Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; Whiles night's black agents to their prey do

SCENE III.-The same.

A Park or Lawn,

with a Gate leading to the Palace.

Enter three Murderers.

I 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.

I Mur.

Then stand with us.

The west yet glimmers with some streaks of

day:

Now spurs the lated traveller apace,

To gain the timely inn; and near approaches
The subject of our watch.

3 Mur.

Ban. [within.] Give us a light there, ho! 2 Mur.

Hark! I hear horses.

Then 'tis he; the rest

His horses go about.

That are within the note of expectation,
Already are i' the court.

I Mur.

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.

Ban. O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly;

Thou mayst revenge.-O slave!

[Dies. FLEANCE and Servant escape.

3 Mur. Who did strike out the light? I Mur.

Was't not the way?

3 Mur. There's but one down; the son is fled. 2 Mur.

Best half of our affair.

We have lost

I 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

The table round. —[Approaching the door.] There's blood upon thy face.

Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then.

Macb. 'Tis better thee without, than he within, Is he dispatch'd?

Mur. My lord, his throat his 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.

Mur.

Fleance is 'scaped.

Most royal sir,

Macb. Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect;

Whole as the marble, founded as the rock :
As broad and general as the casing air:

But now,

I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in

To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe? Mur. Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he

bides,

With twenty trenched gashes on his head;

The least a death to nature.

Macb.

Thanks for that:

There the grown serpent lies; the worm, that's

fled,

Hath nature that in time will venom breed;

No teeth for the present.-Get thee gone; to

morrow

[Exit Murderer. My royal lord,

We'll hear, ourselves, again.
Lady M.
You do not give the cheer; the feast is sold
That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making,
'Tis given with welcome: to feed, were best at

home;

From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony,
Meeting were bare without it.

Macb.

Sweet remembrancer!

Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!

Len.

May it please your highness sit?

Enter the Ghost of BANQUO, and sits in MACBETH'S

place.

Macb. Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,

Were the graced person of our Banquo present; Who may I rather challenge for unkindness

Than pity for mischance!

Rosse.

His absence, sir,

Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your

highness

To grace us with your royal company?

Macb. The table's full.

Len. Here is a place reserved, sir.

Macb. Where?

Len.

is't that moves your highness?

Here, my good lord. What

What, my good lord?

Macb. Which of you have done this?

Lords.

Mach. Thou canst not say I did it: never

shake

Thy gory locks at me.

Rosse. Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not well.

Lady M. Sit, worthy friends :-my lord is

often thus,

And hath been from his youth: 'pray you keep

seat;

The fit is momentary; upon a thought

He will again be well: if much you note him,