2 Mur. He needs not our miftruft, fince he delivers Our Offices, and what we have to do,

To the direction juft.

I Mur. Then ftand with us.

The Weft yet glimmers with fome streaks of Day.
Now Spurs the latest Traveller apace,

To gain the timely Inn, and near approaches
The fubject of our Watch.

3

Mur. Hark, I hear Horses.

Banquo within. Give us a Light there, ho.
2 Mur. Then 'tis he:

The reft, that are within the note of expectation,
Already are i'th' Court.

I Mur. His Horfes go about.

3 Mur. Almoft a Mile: but he does ufually, So all Men do, from hence to th' Palace Gate, Make it their walk.

Enter Banquo and Fleance, with a Torch.

2 Mur. A Light, a Light.

3 Mur. 'Tis he.

1 Mur. Stand to't.

Ban. It will be rain to Night.

[They fall upon Banquo and kill him; in the fcuffle Fleance escapes.

1 Mur. Let it come down.

Ban. O, Treachery!

Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly,

Thou may'ft revenge. O Slave!

3 Mur. Who did ftrike out the Light?

1 Mur. Was't not the way?

3 Mur. There's but one down; the Son is fled.
2 Mur. We have loft

Beft half of our Affair.

[Dies.

1 Mur.Well, let's away, and fay how much is done. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Room of State.

A Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Roffe, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.

Mach. You know your own Degrees, fit down:

At first and laft, the hearty welcome.

Lords. Thanks to your Majefty.

Mach. Our felf will mingle with Society,

And

And play the humble Host:

Our Hostess keeps her State, but in the best time

We will require her welcome.

[They fit.

Lady. Pronounce it for me, Sir, to all our Friends.

For my Heart speaks, they are welcome.

Enter firft Murtherer.

Mach. See they encounter thee with their Hearts thanks, Both fides are even here I'll fit i'th' mid'st,

Be large in Mirth, anon we'll drink a Measure

The Table round. There's Blood upon thy Face. [To the Mur. Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then.

Mach. '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 o'th' Cut-throats; yet he's good, That did the like for Fleance: if thou did'ft it,

Thou art the Non-pareil.

Mur. Moft Royal Sir,

Fleance is 'fcap'd.

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 cafing Air:

But now I am cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd, bound in
Tofawcy 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.

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' prefent. Get thee gone, to morrow
We'll hear our felves again.

Lady. My Royal Lord,

[Exit Murtherer.

You do not give the Cheer; the Feast is fold
That is not often vouched, while 'tis making:

'Tis given with welcome; to feed were beft at home;
From thence, the Sawce to Meat is Ceremony,
Meeting were bare without it.

The Ghoft of Banquo rifes, and fits in Macbeth's place.
Mach. Sweet Remembrancer!

Now good Digeftion wait on Appetite,

And

And Health on both.

Len. May't please your Highnefs, fit.

Macb. Here had we now our Country's Honour, roofd, Were the grac'd Perfon of our Banquo prefent;

Who may I rather challenge for Unkindness,

Than pity for Mifchance.

Roffe. His abfence, Sir,

Lays blame upon his promife.

Pleas't your Highness

[Starting.

To grace us with your Royal Company?

Mach. The Table's full.

Len. Here is a place referv'd, Sir.
Macb. Where?

Len. Here, my good Lord.

What is't that moves your Highness?

Mach. Which of you have done this?
Lords. What, my good Lord?

Macb. Thou canst not fay I did it: never fhake
Thy goary Locks at me.

Roffe. Gentlemen rife, his Highness is not well. Lady. Sit, worthy Friends, my Lord is often 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? [To Macbeth.
Mach. 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;

This is the Air-drawn-Dagger which you faid
Led you to Duncan. O, thefe flaws and ftarts,
Impoftors 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 fuch Faces? when all's done

You look but on a stool.

Macb. Prithee fee there:

Behold! look! loe! how fay you! [Pointing to the Ghoft.
Why, what care I, if thou canst nod, fpeak too.
If Charnel-Houfes, and our Graves muft fend
Thofe that we bury, back; our Monuments

Shall

Shall be the Maws of Kites.

[The Ghost vanishes.

Lady. What? quite unmann'd in Folly?

Mach. If I ftand here, I faw him.

Lady. Fie for fhame.

Macb. Blood hath been shed e'er now, i'th' olde time F'er humane Statue purg'd the gentle Weal;

Ay, and fince too, Murthers 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 rise again
With twenty mortal Murthers on their Crowns,
And push us from our Stools; this is more strange
Than fuch a Murther is.

Lady. My worthy Lord,

Your Noble Friends do lack you.
Mach. I do forget-

Do not mufe at me, my moft worthy Friends,
I have a ftrange Infirmity, which is nothing

To those that know me. Come, Love and Health to all,
Then I'll fit down: Give me fome Wine, fill full

[As he is drinking, the Ghoft rifes again just before him. I drink to th' general joy of the whole Table, And to our dear Friend Banquo, whom we mifs, Would he were here; to all, and him, we thirst, And all to all.

Lords. Our duties, and the pledge.

Macb. Avant, and quit my fight, let the Earth hide thee; Thy Bones are marrowlefs; thy Blood is cold;

Thou haft no fpeculation in thofe Eyes,

Which thou doft glare with.

Lady. Think of this, good Peers,
But as a thing of Cuftom; 'tis no other,
Only it fpoils the pleafure of the time.
Mach. What Man dare, I dare :

Approach thou like the rugged Russian Bear,
The arm'd Rhinoceros, or th' Hyrcan Tyger,
Take any shape but that, and my firm Nerves
Shall never tremble. Or be alive again,
And dare me to the Defart with thy Sword;
If trembling I inhabit, then proteft me
The Baby of a Girl. Hence horrible Shadow,

Unreal Mock'ry hence. Why fo,be gone

I am a Man again: pray you fit ftill.

[The Ghoft vanishes. [The Lords rife.

Lady. You have difplac'd the Mirth, broke the good

Meeting,

With moft admir'd diforder.

Macb. Can fuch things be,

And overcome us like a Summer's Cloud

Without our special wonder? You make me strange,

Even to the difpofition that I owe,

When now I think you can behold fuch fights,

And keep the natural Ruby of your Cheeks,
When mine is blanch'd with fear.

Roffe. What fights, my Lord?

Lady. I pray you speak not; he grows worfe and worse, Question enrages him: at once, Good-night.

Stand not upon the order of your going,

Bit go at once.

Len. Good-night, and better Health

Attend his Majefty.

Lady. A kind Good-night to all.

[Exeunt Lords.

Mach. It will have Blood they fay; Blood will have Blood: Stones have been known to move, and Trees to fpeak; Augures, that understood Relations, have

By Maggot-Pyes, and Choughs, and Rooks brought forth
The fecret'ft Man of Blood." What is the Night?
Lady. Almoft at odds with Morning, which is which.
Mach. How fay'ft thou, that Macduff denies his Perfon,
At our great bidding?

Lady. Did you fend to him, Sir?

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 Servant Fee'd. I will to Morrow
(And betimes I will) to the wizard Sifters.
More fhall they speak; for now I am bent to know
By the worst means, the worft, for mine own good;
All Caufes fhall give way, I am in Blood
Spent 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, e'er they may be fcann'd

Lady.