Enter first Murderer, to the door. Macb. See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks: Both fides are even: Here I'll fit i' the midst : Macb. 'Tis better thee without, than he within. Mur. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him. Macb. Thou art the beft 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 'fcap'd. Most royal fir, Macb. Then comes my fit again: I had elfe 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, confin'd, bound in The least a death to nature. Mach. Thanks for that : There the grown ferpent lies; the worm, that's fled, No teeth for the prefent.-Get thee gone; to-morrow Lady M. [Exit Murderer. My royal lord, You do not give the cheer: the feast is fold, That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making, 'Tis given with welcome: To feed, were best at home; From From thence, the fauce to meat is ceremony; Macb. Sweet remembrancer! Now, good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both! Len. May it please your highness fit? [The ghost of BANQUO rifes, and fits in MACBETH's place. Macb. Here had we now our country's honour roof'd, Were the grac'd perfon of our Banquo prefent; Who may I rather challenge for unkindness, Than pity for mischance! Roffe. His abfence, fir, Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your highness To grace us with your royal company? Lords. What, my good lord? Macb. Thou canst not say, I did it: never shake Thy gory locks at me. Roffe. Gentlemen, rife; his highness is not well. Lady M. Sit, worthy friends :-my lord is cften thus, And hath been from his youth: 'pray you, keep feat; The fit is momentary; upon a thought He will again be well: if much you note him, Feed, and regard him not.-Are you a man? Lady M. O proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear : This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you faid, Authoriz❜d by her grandam. Shame itself! Macb. Pr'ythee, fee there! behold! look! lo! how fay you? Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.— Lady M. What! quite unmann'd in folly? Macb. If I ftand here, I faw him. Lady M. Fie, for fhame! Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal; 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, Lady M. Your noble friends do lack you. Macb. My worthy lord, I do forget Do not mufe at me, my most worthy friends; I have a strange infirmity, To thofe that know me. Then I'll fit down: which is nothing Come, love and health to all; -Give me fome wine, fill full :— I drink to the general joy of the whole table. Ghoft Ghoft rifes. And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss; Lords. Our duties, and the pledge. Macb. Avaunt! and quit my fight! Let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; Thou haft no fpeculation in those eyes Which thou doft glare with! Lady M. Think of this, good peers, But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other; Macb. What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Ruffian bear, [Ghoft disappears. Unreal mockery, hence!-Why, fo;-being gone, I am a man again. Pray you, fit ftill. Lady M. You have displac'd the mirth, broke the good meeting, With most admir'd diforder. Macb. Can fuch things be, And overcome us like a fummer's cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange When now think you can behold such fights, And And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, Roffe. What fights, my lord? Lady M. I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worfe ; Question enrages him: at once, good night Stand not upon the order of your going, Macb. It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood: 1 Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak ; Augurs, and understood relations, have . By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth The fecret'ft man of blood.—What is the night? Lady M. Almoft at odds with morning, which is which. Macb. How fay'ft thou, that Macduff denies his person, At our great bidding? Lady M. Did you fend to him, fir? More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know, Stept in fo far, that, should I wade no more, Mach. |