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 lies 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?

Macb.
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 the 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.
^{1 note}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. [Exeunt Banquo and Fleance.

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