Imágenes de páginas

Enter Banquo, and Fleance; a Servant with a
torch preceding them.
A light, a light!

2 Mur.

3 Mur.

1 Mur. Stand to't.

Ban. It will be rain to-night.

1 Mur.

'Tis he.

Let it come down. [assaults Banquo.

Ban. O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly;

Thou may'st revenge.-O slave!

3 Mur. Who did strike out the light? 1 Mur.

[Dies. Fleance and Servant escape.

Was't not the way?

3 Mur. There's but one down; the son is fled.

2 Mur. We have lost best half of our affair.


1 Mur. Well, let's away, and say how much is done.



A banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.

Mac. You know your own degrees, sit down: at first,

And last, the hearty welcome.


Thanks to your majesty. Mac. 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




heart speaks, they are welcome.

Enter first Murderer, to the door.

Mac. See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks:

Both sides are even: Here I'll sit i'the midst:
Be large in mirth; anon, we'll drink a measure
The table round.-There's blood upon thy face.
Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then.

Mac. 'Tis better thee without, than he within. Is he despatch'd?

Mur. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.

Mac. Thou art the best o'the cut-throats: Yet he's good,

That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,
Thou art the nonpareil.


Most royal sir,

Fleance is 'scap'd.

Mac. 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, confin'd, bound in
To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe?

Mur. Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head;

The least a death to nature.


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-mor-


We'll hear, ourselves again.
Lady M.

[Exit Murderer. My royal lord, You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold, That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making, 'Tis given with welcome: To feed, were best at


From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony;
Meeting were bare without it.


Sweet remembrancer!

Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!


May it please your highness sit? [The ghost of Banquo rises, and sits in Macbeth's place.

Mac. Here had we now our country's honour


Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present;
may I rather challenge for unkindness,
Than pity for mischance!

His absence, sir,

Rosse. Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your high


To grace us with your royal company?

Mac. The table's full.


Mac. Where?

Here is a place reserv'd, sir.



Here, my lord. What is't that moves your highness?

Mac. Which of you have done this?


What, my good lord? Mac. Thou canst not say, I did it: never shake Thy gory locks at me.

Rosse. Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not well. Lady M. Sit, worthy friends:-my lord is often thus,

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,
You shall offend him, and extend his passion;
Feed, and regard him not.-Are you a man?

Mac. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appal the devil.

Lady M. O proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear: This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said, Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws, and starts, (Impostors to true fear,) would well become A woman's story, at a winter's fire, Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces? When all's done,

You look but on a stool.

Mac. Pr'ythee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you?

Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.If charnel-houses, and our graves, must send. Those that we bury, back, our monuments

Shall be the maws of kites.

Lady M.

What! quite unmann'd in folly?

Mac. If I stand here, I saw him.
Lady M.

Fie, for shame!

Mac. Blood hath been shed ere now, i'the olden time,

Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal;
Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd
Too terrible for the ear: the times have been,
That, when the brains were out, the man would

And there an end: but now, they rise again,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools: This is more strange
Than such a murder is.

Lady M.

Your noble friends do lack you.

My worthy lord,


I do forget:-
Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends;
I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing

To those that know me. Come, love and health to


Then I'll sit down:-Give me some wine, fill full:

I drink to the general joy of the whole table,

Ghost rises.

And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
And all to all.


Our duties, and the pledge.

Mac. Avaunt! and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee!

Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;

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