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 :
Be large in mirth; anon, we'll drink a measure
The table round.—There's blood upon thy face.
Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then.

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

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
To faucy 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 least a death to nature.

Mach.

Thanks for that :

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

No teeth for the prefent.-Get thee gone; to-morrow
We'll hear, ourselves again.

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;
Meeting were bare without it.

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,
You fhall offend him, and extend his paffion;

Feed, and regard him not.-Are you a man?
Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
Which might appal the devil.

Lady M.

O proper stuff!

This is the very painting of your fear :

This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you faid,
Led you to Duncan. O, thefe flaws, and starts,
(Impostors 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 ftool.

Macb. Pr'ythee, fee there! behold! look! lo! how fay you?

Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.—
If charnel-houses, and our graves, must send
Those that we bury, back, our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites.

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,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools: This is more strange
Than fuch a murder is.

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;
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
And all to all.

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;
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.

Macb. What man dare, I dare:

Approach thou like the rugged Ruffian bear,
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger,
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble: Or, be alive again,
And dare me to the defert with thy fword;
If trembling I inhibit thee, protest me
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!

[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
Even to the difpofition that I owe,

When now think you can behold such fights,

And

And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,
When mine are blanch'd with fear.

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?
Macb. I hear it by the way; but I will fend:
There's not a one of them, but in his house
I keep a fervant fee'd. I will to-morrow,
(Betimes I will,) unto the weird fisters :

More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know,
By the worst means, the worst: for mine own good,
All causes shall give way; I am in blood

Stept in fo far, that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er :
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand ;
Which must be acted, ere they may be scann'd.
Lady M. You lack the season of all natures, fleep.

Mach.