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SCENE III,

Enter three Murderers.'

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

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

[Banquo 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.

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,

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1 Mur. Let it come down. [They assault BANQUO. Ban. Oh, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly; Thou may'st revenge.- -Oh slave!

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[Dies. FLEANCE escapes.

3 Mur. Who did strike 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 lost best half of our affair.

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

done.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A Banquet prepared. Enter MACBETH, Lady, 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,

We will require her welcome.

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Lady. 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'

hanks:

Both

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 dispatch'd ?

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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 non-pareil.

Mur. Most royal sir,

Fleance is 'scaped.

Mac. Then comes my fit again: I had else been per

fe&t;

Whole as the marble, founded as the rock;

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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.

Mac. Thanks for that':

There the grown serpent lies; the worm, that's fied, Hath nature that in time will venom breed,

No teeth for the present.-Get thee gone; to-morrow We'll hear, ourselves again. [Exit Murderer.

Lady. My royal lord,

You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold,
That is not often vouch'd while 'tis a making,

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'Tis given with welcome to feed, were best at home; From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony : Meeting were bare without it.

Enter the Ghost of BANQUO, and sits in MACBETH'S Place.

Mac. Sweet remembrancer

Now, good digestion wait on appetite,

And health on both!

Len. May it please your highness sit.

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Mac. Here had we now our country's honour roof'd, Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present;

Who may

I rather challenge for unkindness,

Than pity for mischance!

Rosse. His absence, sir,

Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your highness

To grace us with your royal company?

Mac. The table's full.

Len. Here is a place reserv'd, sir.

Mac. Where?

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Len. Here, my good lord. What is't that moves

your highness.

Mac. Which of you have done this?

Lords. What, my good lord?

Mac. Thou can'st not say, I did it: never shake

Thy goary locks at me.

Rosse, Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not well. Lady. 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

7

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He

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. O proper stuff!

This is the very painting of your fear:
This is the air-drawn-dagger, which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. Oh, 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.

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

Why, what care I? If thou can'st 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. What quite unmann'd in folly?

Mac. If I stand here, I saw him.

Lady. Fie, for shame!

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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 die,
And there an end: but now, they rise again,

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