Thou know'ft, that Banque, and his Fleance, lives.
Lady. But in them Nature's copy's not eternal.
Macb. There's comfort yet, they are affailable;
Then, be thou jocund. Ere the Bat hath flown
His cloyfter'd flight, ere to black Hecat's fummons
The fhard-born beetle with his drowfy hums

Hath rung night's yawning peal, there fhall be done A deed of dreadful note.

Lady. What's to be done?

Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, 'Till thou applaud the deed: come, feeling night, Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day,

And with thy bloody and invifible hand
Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond,
Which keeps me pale! Light thickens, and the crow
Makes wing to th' rooky wood:

Good things of day begin to droop and drowze,
Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouze.
Thou marvell'ft at my words; but hold thee ftill ;
Things, bad begun, make ftrong themselves by ill :
So, pr'ythee, go with me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to a Park; the Cafle at a

I Mur.

B

diftance.

Enter three Murderers.

UT who did bid thee join with us?
3 Mur. Macbeth.

2 Mur. He needs not our mistruft, fince he delivers Our offices, and what we have to do,

To the direction just.

1 Mur. Then ftand with us.

The weft yet glimmers with fome fireaks of day:
Now furs the lated traveller apace,

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

3 Mur. Hark, Thear horfes.

Banquo within. Give us light there, ho!

2 Mur. Then it is he; the rest,

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

I Mur. His horfes go

about.

3 Mur. Almost a mile: but he does usually, (So all men do,) from hence to th' Palace-gate Make it their walk.

Enter Banquo and Fleance, with a Torch.

2 Mur. A light, a light.

3 Mur. 'Tis he.

I Mur. Stand to't.

Ban. It will be rain to-night.

I Mur. Let it come down.
Ban. Oh, treachery!

Fly, Fleance, fly, fly, fly,

[They affault Banquo.

Thou may'ft revenge. Oh flave! [Dies. Fleance efcapes. 3 Mur. Who did ftrike out the light?

I Mur. Was't not the way?

3 Mur. There's but one down; the fon Is fled.

2 Mur. We've loft beft half of our affair.

1 Mur. Well, let's away, and fay how much is done.

[Exeunt. SCENE changes to a Room of State in the

Caftle

A Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Roffe,
Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.

Macb. At first and laft, the hearty welcome.
U know your own degrees, fit down ;

Lords. Thanks to your Majefty.

Mach. Ourfelf will mingle with fociety,

And play the humble hoft:

Our hoftefs keeps her ftate, but in best time

We will require her welcome.

[They fit.

Lady. Pronounce it for me, Sir, to all our friends, For my heart speaks, they're welcome,

Enter

Enter firft Murderer.

Mac. See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks. Both fides are even: here I'll fit i'th' midft;

Be large in mirth, anon we'll drink a meafure
The table round-There's blood upon thy face.

[To the Murderer, afide, at the door.

Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then.

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

Mur. My Lord, his throat is cut, that I did for him. Macb. Thou art the best of cut-throats; yet he's good, That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it, Thou art the non-pareil.

Mur. Moft royal Sir, Fleance is 'fcap'd.

Macb.Then comes my fit again: I had elfe been perfect; Whole as the marble, founded as the rock;

As broad, and gen'ral, as the cafing air:

But now I'm cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in
To fawcy doubts and fears. But Banquo's fafe?
Mur. Ay, my good Lord: fafe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
The leaft a death to nature.

Macb. Thanks for that;

There the grown ferpent lies: the worm, that's fled, Hath nature that in time will venom breed,

No teeth for th' prefent. Get thee gone, to-morrow We'll hear't ourselves again.

Lady. My royal Lord,

[Exit Murderer.

You do not give the cheer; the feaft is fold,

That is not often vouched, while 'tis making;

'Tis given, with welcome. To feed, were beft at home; From thence, the fawce to meat is ceremony;

Meeting were bare without it.

The Ghoft of Banquo rifes, and fits in Macbeth's place. Macb! Sweet remembrancer!

Now good digeftion wais on appetite,
And health on both!

Len.

Len. May't please your Highness, fit?

Macb. Here had we now our country's honour roof'd, Were the grac'd perfon of our Banquo prefent,

(Whom may I rather challenge for unkindness,

Than pity for mifchance!)

Refe. His abfence, Sir,

Lays blame upon his promife. Pleas't your Highness

To grace us with your royal company?

Macb. The table's full.

Len. Here's a place referv'd, Sir..

Mach. Where?

Len. Here, my good Lord.

What is't that moves your Highness ?
Macb. Which of you have done this?

Lords. What, my good Lord?

[Starting.

Macb. Thou can'ft not fay, I did it: never shake Thy goary locks at me.

Roffe. Gentlemen, rife; his Highness is not well. Lady. Sit, worthy friends, my Lord is often thus, And hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep feat. The fit is momentary, on a thought

He will again be well. If much you note him,
You fhall offend him, and extend his paffion;
Feed, and regard him not.

-Are you a man?

[To Macbeth afide.

Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that,

Which might appall the devil.

Lady. O proper stuff!

This is the very painting of your fear;

This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you faid,

Led you to Duncan.

Oh, these flaws and starts

(Impoftors to true fear,) would well become

A woman's story at a winter's fire,

Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself!-
Why do you make fuch faces? when all's done,
You look but on a fool.

Mach. Pr'ythee, see there!

[Afide

Behold! look! lo! how fay you? [Pointing to the Ghoft. Why, what care I? if thou can'ft nod, fpeak too.

If charnel-houfes and our graves muft fend
Thofe that we bury, back; our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites.

[The Ghoft vanishes. Lady. What? quite unmann'd in folly ? Mach. If I ftand here, I faw him.Lady. Fy, for fhame!

Macb. Blood hath been fhed ere now, i'th' olden time, Ere human statute purg'd the gen'ral weal; (15) Ay, and fince too, murders have been perform'd Too terrible for the ear: the times have been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end; but now they rife again With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our ftools: this is more ftrange Than fuch a murder is.

Lady. My worthy Lord,

Your noble friends do lack you.

Macb. I do forget.

Do not muse at me, my moft worthy friends,

I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing

To thofe that know me. Come, love and health to all!
Then I'll fit down: give me fome wine, fill full-
I drink to th' general joy of the whole-table,
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we mifs;
'Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
And all to all.

Lords. Our duties, and the pledge.

The Ghoft rifes again. Mac. Avaunt, and quit my fight! let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowlefs, thy blood is cold;

Thou haft no fpeculation in thofe eyes,

Which thou doft glare with.

Lady. Think of this, good Peers,

(15) Ere buman Statute purg'd the gentle Weal] Thus all the Editions: but Mr. Warburton very juftly advised, as I have reformed the Text, gen'ral Weal: "And it is a very fine Periphrafis (fays

he) to fignify, ere civil Societies were inflituted. For the early "Murders recorded in Scripture, are here alluded to: and Macbeth's "apologizing for Murder from the Antiquity of the Example is very natural,"

But