S CE

NE

III.

Enter Lady Macbeth, and a Servant.

Lady. Is Banque gone from Court?

Ser. Ay, Madam, but returns again to-night.

Lady. Say to the King, I would attend his leifure,

For a few words.

Ser, Madam, I will.

Lady. Nought's had, all's spent,

Where our defire is got without content:
'Tis better to be that which we destroy,
Than by deftruction dwell in doubtful joy.

Enter Macbeth.

[Exit.

How now, my Lord, why do you keep alone,
Of forrieft fancies your companions making?
Ufing thofe thoughts, which fhould indeed have dy'd
With them they think on? things without remedy
Should be without regard; what's done, is done.

2

Macb. We have 3fcotch'd' the fnake, not kill'd it, She'll close, and be her felf; whilft our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth.

But let both worlds disjoint, and all things fuffer,
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and fleep

In the affliction of these terrible dreams,

That shake us nightly.

Better be with the dead, (Whom we, to gain our place, have fent to peace,) Than on the torture of the mind to lye

In restless ecftafie.

Duncan is in his grave;

After life's fitful fever, he fleeps well;

Treafon has done his worft; nor fteel nor poison,
Malice domeftick, foreign levy, nothing

Can touch him further.

Lady. Come on;

I fafer

Ii 4

2 without all remedy

3 fcorch'd... old edit. Theob. emend.

Gentle

Gentle my Lord, fleek o'er your rugged looks,
Be bright and jovial 'mong your guests to-night.
Mack. So fhall I, love; and fo I pray be you;
Let your remembrance ftill apply to Banquo.
Prefent him eminence, both with eye and tongue :
Unfafe the while, that we must lave our honours
In these fo flatt'ring streams, and make our faces
Vizards t' our hearts, difguifing what they are.
Lady. You must leave this.

Mach. Oh! full of fcorpions is my mind, dear wife,
Thou know'ft that Banque and his Fleance 4 'live.`
Lady. But in them nature's copy's not eternal.
Mach. 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 drowfie hums

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

Lady. What's to be done?

Mach. Be innocent of the knowledge, deareft chuck, 'Till thou applaud the deed: come, feeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day,

And with thy bloody and invifible hand

Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond,

Whick 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 rowze.
Thou marvell'ft at my words; but hold thee ftill;
Things bad begun, make ftrong themselves by ill:
So pr'ythee go with me.

4 lives.

[Exeunt.

1 Mur.

S C CEN E IV.

A Park, the Cafle at a distance.

BUT

Enter three Murtherers.

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 juft.

1 Mur. Then stand with us.

[Speaking to the first.

The weft yet glimmers with fome streaks of day:
Now fpurs the lated traveller apace,

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

3 Mur. Hark, I hear horses.

Banquo within. 'Give light there, ho!
2 Mur. Then it is he: the reft

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

1 Mur. His horses go about.

3 Mur. Almoft a mile:

But he does usually, fo 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.

[They affault Banquo.

1 Mur. Let it come down.

Ban. Oh treachery! Fly, Fleance, fly, fly, fly,

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

5 Give us light

1 Mur.

1 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.

SCENE

V.

A Room of State in the Caftle.

[Exca

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

Macb. You

OU know your own degrees, fit down:
And first and laft, the hearty welcome.

Lords. Thanks to your Majefty.

Macb. Our felf will mingle with fociety,

And play the humble hoft:

Our hoftefs keeps her state, but in beft time

We will require her welcome.

For

[They ft.

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

Enter firft Murtherer.

Mach. 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 measure

The table round

There's blood upon thy face.

[To the Murtherer afide at the door.

Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then.

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

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

Thou art the non-pareil,

Mur.

Mur. Moft royal Șir,

Fleance is 'fcap'd..

Mach. 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 gafhes on his head;
The leaft a death to nature.

Mach. Thanks for that;

There the grown ferpent lyes: 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 thee our felves again.

Lady. My royal Lord,

[Exit Murtherer.

You do not give the cheer; the feaft is cold

That is not often vouched, while 'tis making,

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

Meeting were bare without it.

[The Ghaft of Banquo rifes, and fits in Macbeth's place. Mach. Sweet remembrancer!

Now good digeftion wait on appetite,

And health on both!

Len. May't please your Highness fit?

Mach. 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 mischance!

Roffe. His abfence, Sir,

Lays blame upon his promife. Pleafe't your Highness

To grace us with your royal company?

Mac. The table's full.

Len. a place referv'd, Sir.

Here

Mach. Where?

Len. Here, my good Lord.

7 hear't

[Starting.

What