Banquo.
How goes the night, boy?

Fle.
The moon is down: I have not heard the clock.

Ban.
And she goes down at twelve.

Fle.
I take't, 'tis later, Sir.

Ban.
Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heav'n,
Their candles are all out.—Take thee that too.
A heavy summons lyes like lead upon me,
And yet I would not sleep: Merciful pow'rs!
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
Gives way to in repose. Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch.
Give me my sword: who's there?

Mab.
A friend.

Ban.
What, Sir, not yet at rest? the King's a-bed.
He hath to-night been in unusual pleasure,
And sent great largess to your officers;
This diamond he greets your wife withal,
By th' name of most kind hostess, and shut up
In measureless content.

Macb.
Being unprepar'd,
Our will became the servant to defect,

Which else should free have wrought.

Ban.
All's well.
I dreamt last night of the three weyward sisters:
To you they've shew'd some truth.

Macb.
I think not of them;
Yet when we can intreat an hour to serve,
Would spend it in some words upon that business,
If you would grant the time.

Ban.
At your kind leisure.

Macb.
If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis,
It shall make honour for you.

Ban.
So I lose none
In seeking to augment it, but still keep
My bosom franchis'd and allegiance clear,
I shall be counsell'd.

Macb.
Good repose the while!

Ban.
Thanks, Sir; the like to you. [Exit Banquo.

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