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Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
The house-keeper, the hunter, every one
According to the gift which bounteous nature
Hath in him clos'd; whereby he does receive
Particular addition, from the bill

That writes them all alike: and so of men.
Now, if you have a station in the file,
And not in the worst rank of manhood, say it;
And I will put that business in your bosoms,
Whose execution takes your enemy off;
Grapples you to the heart and love of us,
Who wear our health but sickly in his life,
Which in his death were perfect.

2 Mur.

I am one, my liege,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
Have so incens'd, that I am reckless what
I do, to spite the world.

1 Mur.
And I another,
So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,
That I would set my life on any chance,
To mend it, or be rid on't.

Know, Banquo was your enemy.
2 Mur.

True, my lord.

Mac. So is he mine: and in such bloody distance, That every minute of his being thrusts Against my near'st of life: And though I could With bare-fac'd power sweep him from my sight, And bid my will avouch it; yet I must not, For certain friends that are both his and mine, Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall Whom I myself struck down: and thence it is,

Both of you

That I to your assistance do make love;
Masking the business from the common eye,
For sundry weighty reasons.

2 Mur.

We shall, my lord,

Perform what you command us.

1 Mur.

Mac. Your spirits shine through you.
this hour, at most,

I will advise you where to plant yourselves.
Acquaint you with the perfect spy o'the time,
The moment on't; for't must be done to-night,
And something from the palace; always thought,
That I require a clearness: And with him,
(To leave no rubs, nor botches, in the work,)
Fleance his son, that keeps him company,
Whose absence is no less material to me
Than is his father's, must embrace the fate
Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart;

I'll come to you anon.


We are resolv'd, my lord. Mac. I'll call upon you straight; abide within. It is concluded:--Banquo, thy soul's flight, If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.

Though our lives-





Enter Lady Macbeth, and a Servant.

Lady M. Is Banquo gone from court?
Sero. Ay, madam; but returns again to-night.

Lady M. Say to the king, I would attend his


For a few words.



Lady M.

Nought's had, all's spent,

Where our desire is got without content:
'Tis safer to be that which we destroy,
Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy:-

Madam, I will.

Enter Macbeth.

How now, my lord? why do you keep alone,
Of sorriest fancies your companions making?
Using those thoughts, which should indeed have


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,
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep
In the affliction of these terrible dreams,

That shake us nightly: Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie

In restless ecstacy. Duncan is in his grave;

After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well;

Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestick, foreign levy, nothing,

Can touch him further!

Lady M. Come on;

Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;
Be bright and jovial 'mong your guests to-night.
Mac. So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you:
Let your remembrance apply to Banquo;
Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue:
Unsafe the while, that we

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-


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, Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;

And, with thy bloody and invisible hand,

Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond
Which keeps me pale!-Light thickens; and the


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.



Enter three Murderers.

1 Mur. But who did bid thee join with us? 3 Mur.


2 Mur. He needs not our mistrust; since he de


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: Now spurs the lated traveller apace,

To gain the timely inn; and near approaches
The subject of our watch.

3 Mur.

Hark! I hear horses.

Ban. [within.] Give us a light there, ho! 2 Mur. Then it is he; the rest 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.

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