Ban.
Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weyward Women promis'd, and I fear
Thou plaid'st most foully for't: Yet it was said
It should not stand in thy Posterity,
But that my self should be the Root, and Father
Of many Kings. If there come truth from them,
As upon thee, Macbeth, their Speeches shine,
Why by the Verities on thee made good,
May they not be my Oracles as well,
And set me up in hope? But hush, no more. Trumpets sound. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth, Lenox, Rosse, Lords and Attendants.

Macb.
Here's our chief Guest.

Lady.
If he had been forgotten,
It had been as a gap in our great Feast,
And all things unbecoming.

Macb.
To Night we hold a solemn Supper, Sir,
And I'll request your presence.

Ban.
Lay your Highness's
Command upon me, to the which, my Duties
Are with a most indissoluble tye
For ever knit.

Macb.
Ride you this Afternoon?

Ban.
Ay, my good Lord.

Macb.
We should have else desir'd your good Advice,
Which still hath been both grave and prosperous,
In this Day's Council; but we'll take to Morrow.
Is't far you ride?

Ban.
As far, my Lord, as will fill up the time
'Twixt this and Supper. Go not my Horse the better,
I must become a borrower of the Night,
For a dark hour or twain.

Macb.
Fail not our Feast.

Ban.
My Lord, I will not.

Macb.
We hear, our bloody Cousins are bestow'd
In England, and in Ireland, not confessing

Their cruel Parricide, filling their hearers
With strange Invention, but of that to Morrow,
When therewithal we shall have cause of State,
Craving us jointly. Hie you to Horse:
Adieu, 'till you return at Night.
Goes Fleance with you?

Ban
Ay, my good Lord; our time does call upon's.

Macb.
I wish your Horses swift, and sure of Foot:
And so I do commend you to their Backs.
Farewel. [Exit Banquo.
Let every Man be master of his Time,
'Till seven at Night, to make Society
The sweeter welcome: We will keep our self
'Till Supper time alone: While then, God be with you. [Exeunt Lady Macbeth, and Lords.
Sirrah, a word with you: Attend those Men [To a Servant.
Our pleasure?

Ser.
They are, my Lord, without the Palace Gate.

Macb.
Bring them before us. [Exit Servant.
To be thus, is nothing,
But to be safely thus: Our fears in Banquo
Stick deep, and in his Royalty of Nature
Reigns that which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares,
And to that dauntless temper of his Mind,
He hath a Wisdom that doth guide his Valour,
To act in safety. There is none but he,
Whose Being I do fear: And under him,
My Genius is rebuk'd; as it is said
Mark Anthony's was by Cæsar; he chid the Sisters,
When first they put the Name of King upon me,
And bad them speak to him; then Prophet like,
They hail'd him Father to a line of Kings.
Upon my Head, they plac'd a fruitless Crown,
And put a barren Scepter in my Gripe,
Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal Hand,
No Son of mine succeeding: If't be so,
For Banquo's Issue have I fil'd my Mind,
For them, the gracious Duncan have I murther'd,
Put Rancors in the Vessel of my Peace
Only for them, and mine Eternal Jewel
Given to the common Enemy of Man,

To make them Kings, the Seeds of Banquo Kings:
Rather than so, come Fate into the Last,
And Champion me to th' utterance—
Who's there? Enter Servant, and two Murtherers.
Now go to the Door, and stay there 'till we call. [Exit Servant.
Was it not Yesterday we spoke together?

Mur.
It was, so please your Highness.

Macb.
Well then,
Now you have consider'd of my Speeches? know
That it was he, in the times past, which held you
So under Fortune, which you thought had been
Our innocent self, this I made good to you,
In our last Conference, past in probation with you:
How you were born in Hand, how crost, the Instruments,
Who wrought with them: And all things else that might
To half a Soul, and to a Notion craz'd,
Say, thus did Banquo.

1 Mur.
You made it known to us.

Macb.
I did so; and went further, which is now
Our point of second meeting. Do you find
Your patience so predominant in your Nature,
That you can let this go? Are you so Gospell'd
To pray for this good Man, and for his Issue,
Whose heavy Hand hath bow'd you to the Grave,
And beggar'd yours for ever?

1 Mur.
We are Men, my Liege.

Macb.
Ay, in the Catalogue ye go for Men,
As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mungrels, Spaniels, Curs.
Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolves are clipt
All by the Name of Dogs; the valued file
Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
The House-Keeper, the Hunter, every one
According to the Gift, which bounteous Nature
Hath in him clos'd? whereby he does receive
Particular addition, from the Bill,

That writes them all alike: and so of Men.
Now, if you have a station in the file,
And not in the worst rank of Manhood, say it;
And I will put the business in your Bosoms,
Whose Execution takes your Enemy off;
Grapples you to the Heart, and love of us,
Who wear our Health but sickly in his Life,
Which in his Death were perfect.

2 Mur.
I am one, my Liege,
Whom the vile Blows and Buffets of the World
Have so incens'd that I am reckless what
I do, to spite the World.

1 Mur.
And I another,
So weary with Disasters, tugg'd with Fortune,
That I would set my Life on any Chance,
To mend it, or be rid on't.

Macb.
Both of you
Know Banquo was your Enemy.

Mur.
True, my Lord.

Macb.
So is he mine: and in such bloody distance,
That every Minute of his being, thrusts
Against my near'st of Life; and though I could
With bare-fac'd Power sweep him from my sight,
And bid my will avouch it; yet I must not,
For certain Friends that are both his, and mine,
Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall,
Who I my self struck down: and thence it is,
That I to your assistance do make love,
Masking the business from the common Eye,
For sundry weighty Reasons.

2 Mur.
We shall, my Lord,
Perform what you command us.

1 Mur.
Though our Lives—

Macb.
Your Spirits shine through you.
Within this Hour, at most,
I will advise you where to plant your selves,
Acquaint you with the perfect Spy o'th' time,
The moment on't, for't must be done to Night,
And something from the Palace: always thought,
That I require a clearness; and with him,
To leave no Rubs nor Botches in the Work;

Fleance, his Son, that keeps him company,
Whose absence is no less material to me,
Than is his Father's, must embrace the fate
Of that dark Hour. Resolve your selves a-part,
I'll come to you anon.

Mur.
We are resolv'd, my Lord.

Macb.
I'll call upon you straight; abide within,
It is concluded: Banquo, thy Soul's flight,
If it find Heav'n, must find it out to Night. [Exeunt. Enter Lady Macbeth, and a Servant.

Lady.
Is Banquo gone from Court?

Serv.
Ay, Madam, but returns again to Night.

Lady.
Say to the King, I would attend his leisure,
For a few words.

Serv.
Madam, I will. [Exit.

Lady.
Nought's had, all's spent,
Where our desire is got without content:
'Tis safer, to be that which we destroy,
Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. Enter Macbeth.
How now, my Lord, why do you keep alone?
Of sorriest Fancies your Companions making,
Using those Thoughts, which should indeed have dy'd
With them they think on; things without all remedy
Should be without regard; what's done, is done.

Macb.
We have scorch'd the Snake, not kill'd it:
She'll close, and be her self, whilst our poor Malice
Remains in danger of her former Tooth.
But let the frame of things disjoint,
Both the Worlds suffer,
E'er we will eat our Meal in fear, and sleep
In the affliction of these terrible Dreams,
That shake us Nightly: Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the Mind to lie
In restless ecstasie. Duncan is in his Grave;
After Life's fitful Fever, he sleeps well,
Treason has done his worst; nor Steel nor Poison,
Malice Domestick, Foreign Levy, nothing
Can touch him further.

Lady.
Come on;

Gentle, my Lord, sleek o'er your rugged Looks,
Be bright and jovial 'mong your Guests to Night.

Macb.
So shall I, Love, and so I pray be you;
Let your remembrance still apply to Banquo,
Present him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue:
Unsafe the while, that we must lave our Honours
In these so flattering streams,
And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts,
Disguising what they are.

Lady.
You must leave this.

Macb.
O, full of Scorpions is my Mind, dear Wife!
Thou know'st, that Banquo and his Fleance lives.

Lady.
But in them, Nature's Copy's not eterne.

Macb.
There's comfort yet, they are assailable,
Then be thou jocund: e'er the Bat hath flown
His Cloyster'd flight, e'er to black Hecat's Summons
The shard-born Beetle, with his drowsie hums,
Hath rung Night's yawning Peal, there shall 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, sealing Night,
Skarf up the tender Eye of pitiful Day,
And with thy bloody and invisible 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 Preys do rowze.
Thou marvell'st at my words; but hold thee still;
Things bad begun, make strong themselves by ill:
So prithee go with me. [Exeunt.

Next section