Macb.
You know your own degrees, sit down:
At first and last, the hearty welcome.

Lords.
Thanks to your Majesty.

Macb.
Our self will mingle with society,
And play the humble Host:
Our Hostess keeps her State, but in best time
We will require her welcome. [They sit.

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

Macb.
See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.
Both sides are even: here I'll sit i'th' midst;
Be large in mirth, anon we'll drink a measure
The table round—There's blood upon thy face. [To the Murtherer, aside, 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.
Most royal Sir,
Fleance is 'scap'd.

Macb.
Then comes my Fit again: I had else been perfect;
Whole as the marble, founded as the rock;
As broad, and gen'ral, as the casing air:
But now I'm cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in
To sawcy 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 lyes: the worm, that's fled,
Hath Nature that in time will venom breed,
No teeth for th' present. Get thee gone, to morrow
We'll hear 't our selves again. [Exit Murtherer.

Lady.
My royal lord,
You do not give the cheer; the feast is sold,
That is not often vouched, while 'tis making;
'Tis given, with welcome. To feed, were best at home;
From thence, the sawce to meat is ceremony;
Meeting were bare without it. [The Ghost of Banquo rises, and sits in Macbeth's place.

Macb.
Sweet remembrancer!
Now good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!

Len.
May't please your Highness sit?

Macb.
Here had we now our Country's Honour roof'd,
Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present,—
(Whom may I rather challenge for unkindness,
Than pity for mischance!)

Rosse.
His absence, Sir,
Lays blame upon his promise. Pleas't your Highness
To grace us with your royal company?

Macb.
The table's full. [Starting.

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

Macb.
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?

Macb.
Thou can'st not say, I did it: never shake

Thy goary locks at me.

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

Lady.
Sit, worthy friends, my lord is often thus,
And hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep seat.
The Fit is momentary, on a thought
He will again be well. If much you note him,
You shall offend him, and extend his passion;
Feed, and regard him not.—Are you a man? [To Macb. aside.

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; [aside.
This is the air-drawn-dagger, which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. Oh, these 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 it self!—
Why do you make such faces? when all's done,
You look but on a stool.

Macb.
Pr'ythee, see there!
Behold! look! loe! how say you? [Pointing to the Ghost.
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. [The Ghost vanishes.

Lady.
What? quite unmann'd in folly?

Macb.
If I stand here, I saw him.—

Lady.
Fie, for shame!

Macb.
Blood hath been shed ere now, i'th' olden time,
Ere humane Statute purg'd the gen'ral weal;(25) ^note
Ay, and since too, Murthers have been perform'd
Too terrible for th' ear: the times have been,

That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end; but now they rise again
With twenty mortal Murthers on their crowns,
And push us from our stools; this is more strange
Than such a murther is.

Lady.
My worthy lord,
Your noble friends do lack you.

Macb.
I do forget.—
Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends,
I have a strange Infirmity, which is nothing
To those that know me. Come, Love and Health to all!
Then I'll sit down: give me some wine, fill full—
I drink to th' general joy of the whole table,
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. [The Ghost rises again.

Macb.
Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee!(26) ^note

Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes,
Which thou dost glare with.

Lady.
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 Russian bear,
The arm'd rhinoceros, or Hyrcanian tyger,
Take any shape but That, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble: Or, be alive again,
And dare me to the Desert with thy sword;
If trembling I inhibit, then protest me
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!

Unreal mock'ry, hence! Why, so,—being gone, [The Ghost vanishes.
I am a man again: pray you, sit still. [The Lords rise.

Lady.
You have displac'd the mirth, broke the good Meeting
With most admir'd disorder.

Macb.
Can such things be,
And overcome us like a Summer's cloud,
Without our special wonder? You make me strange
Ev'n to the disposition that I owe,
When now I think, you can behold such sights;
And keep the natural Ruby of your Cheeks,
When mine is blanch'd with fear.

Rosse.
What sights, my lord?

Lady.
I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse;
Question enrages him: at once, good night.
Stand not upon the Order of your Going,
But go at once.

Len.
Good night, and better health
Attend his Majesty!

Lady.
Good night, to all. [Exeunt Lords.

Macb.
It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood:
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak;
Augurs, that understood relations, have(27) ^note

By mag-pies, and by choughs, and rooks brought forth
The secret'st man of blood.—What is the night?

Lady.
Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

Macb.
How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person,
At our great bidding?

Lady.
Did you send to him, Sir?

Macb.
I hear it by the way; but I will send:
There's not a Thane of them, but in his house(28) ^note

Lady.
You lack the Season of all Nature's Sleep.

Macb.
Come, we'll to sleep; my strange and self abuse

Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use:
We're yet but young in Deed.(29) ^note