Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood: Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; SCENE III. A park near the palace. Enter three Murderers. First Mur. But who did bid thee join with us? Third Mur. Macbeth. Sec. Mur. He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers Our offices and what we have to do To the direction just. First Mur. Then stand with us. The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day: Now spurs the lated traveller apace To gain the timely inn; and near approaches Third Mur. Hark! I hear horses. Ban. [Within] Give us a light there, ho! 50 49. Cancel, etc. A continuation of the image in line 37. 6. lated, belated. That are within the note of expectation Already are i' the court. First Mur. His horses go about. Third Mur. Almost a mile : but he does usually, So all men do, from hence to the palace gate Make it their walk. [They set upon Banquo. Ban. O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, ΤΟ [Dies. Fleance escapes. First Mur. Was 't not the way? Third Mur. Who did strike out the light? Third Mur. There's but one down; the son is SCENE IV. The same. Hall in the palace. A banquet prepared. Enter MACBETH, LADY MACBETH, ROSS, LENNOX, Lords, and Attendants. Mach. You know your own degrees; sit down : at first And last a hearty welcome. Lords. Thanks to your majesty. Mach. Ourself will mingle with society, And play the humble host. Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time We will require her welcome. Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends; For my heart speaks they are welcome. Enter First Murderer to the door. Macb. See, they encounter thee with their hearts' Both sides are even: here I'll sit i' the midst : 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. Mach. Thou art the best o' the cut-throats: yet That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it Mur. Fleance is 'scaped. Most royal sir, Macb. Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect, Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, As broad and general as the casing air : But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in ΤΟ 20 daringly ungrammatical way of saying that the blood is better on the murderer's face than in Banquo's veins. But Banquo's safe? To saucy doubts and fears. 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 lies; the worm that's fled Hath nature that in time will venom breed, No teeth for the present. Get thee gone : to-morrow We'll hear ourselves again. Lady M. [Exit Murderer. My royal lord, You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold Macb. Sweet remembrancer! Now, good digestion wait on appetite, Len. May 't please your highness sit. [The Ghost of Banquo enters, and sits in Macbeth's place. Mach. Here had we now our country's honour roof'd, Were the graced person of our Banquo present; Than pity for mischance! Ross. His absence, sir, Lays blame upon his promise. Please 't your highness To grace us with your royal company. Macb. The table 's full. Len. Macb. Where? Here is a place reserved, sir. Len. Here, my good lord. What is 't that moves your highness? Macb. Which of you have done this? 30 40 Lords. Ross. Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well. And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat; The fit is momentary; upon a thought He will again be well: if much you note him, Which might appal the devil. Lady M. 50 O proper stuff! 60 This is the very painting of your fear: This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said, Led you to Duncan. Impostors to true fear, would well become O, these flaws and starts, Shame itself! When all's done, A woman's story at a winter's fire, Authorized by her grandam. Why do you make such faces ? You look but on a stool. Macb. Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you? Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. 70 If charnel-houses and our graves must send Those that we bury back, our monuments Shall be the maws of kites. Lady M. [Ghost vanishes. What, quite unmann'd in folly? Fie, for shame! Mach. If I stand here, I saw him. Lady M. Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, 60. proper, excellent (with irony). |