Lady M. Say to the king, I would attend his Where our desire is got without content: 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy, Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy: Enter Macbeth. How now, my lord? why do you keep alone, died With them they think on? Things without remedy, Should be without regard: what's done, is done. Mac. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it; She'll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. But let The frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, That shake us nightly: Better be with the dead, In restless ecstacy. Duncan is in his grave; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Can touch him further! Lady M. Come on; Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks; Present him eminence, both with Unsafe the while, that we eye and tongue: Must lave our honours in these flattering streams; And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are. Lady M. You must leave this. Mac. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know'st, that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. Lady M. But in them nature's copy's not eterne. Mac. There's comfort yet, they are assailable; Then be thou jocund: Ere the bat hath flown His cloister'd flight; ere, to black Hecate's sum mons, The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums, Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note. Lady M. What's to be done? Mac. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, And, with thy bloody and invisible hand, Which keeps me pale!-Light thickens; and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood: Good things of day begin to droop and drowze; Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse. Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still; Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by ill; So pr'ythee, go with me. [Exeunt. SCENE III. THE SAME. A PARK OR LAWN, WITH A GATE LEADING TO THE PALACE. Enter three Murderers. 1 Mur. But who did bid thee join with us? 3 Mur. Macbeth. 2 Mur. He needs not our mistrust; since he de livers Our offices, and what we have to do, To the direction just. 1 Mur. Then stand with us. The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day: To gain the timely inn; and near approaches 3 Mur. Hark! I hear horses. Then it is he; the rest Ban. [within.] Give us a light there, ho! 2 Mur. That are within the note of expectation, Already are i'the court. 1 Mur. His horses go about. 3 Mur. Almost a mile: but he does usually, So all men do, from hence to the palace gate Make it their walk. Enter Banquo, and Fleance; a Servant with a Ban. O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly; Thou may'st revenge.-O slave! [Dies. Fleance and Servant escape. 3 Mur. Who did strike out the light? Was't not the way? 1 Mur. 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. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A ROOM OF STATE IN THE PALACE. 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. Lords. Thanks to your majesty. Mac. Ourself will mingle with society, And play the humble host. Our hostess keeps her state; but, in best time, Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends; For my 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: 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. Mur. Fleance is 'scap'd. Most royal sir, 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: Το But now, I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in 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; |