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Macbeth:
Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most,
I will advise you where to plant yourselves,
Acquaint you with the perfect spy o’ th’ time,
The moment on’t; for’t must be done tonight
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.
Both Murderers:
We are resolv’d, my lord.
Macbeth:
I’ll call upon you straight: abide within.
(Exeunt Murderers.)
It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul’s flight,
If it find heaven, must find it out tonight.
(Exit.)
Scene Two. The same. Another Room in the Palace.
Enter Lady Macbeth and a Servant.
Lady Macbeth:
Is Banquo gone from court?
Servant:
Ay, madam, but returns again tonight.
Lady Macbeth:
Say to the King, I would attend his leisure
For a few words.
Servant:
Madam, I will.
(Exit.)
Lady Macbeth:
Naught’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.
Enter Macbeth.
How now, my lord, why do you keep alone,
Of sorriest fancies your companions making,
Using those thoughts which should indeed have died
With them they think on? Things without all remedy
Should be without regard: what’s done is done.
Macbeth:
We have scorch’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 peace, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie
In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well;
Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing
Can touch him further.
Lady Macbeth:
Come on,
Gently my lord, sleek o’er your rugged looks;
Be bright and jovial among your guests tonight.