Act 3 — Scenes 3 and 4The Tragedy of Macbeth

Page 25 of 50

Page 25

Banquo: It will be rain tonight. First Murderer: Let it come down. (Assaults Banquo.) Banquo: O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! Thou mayst revenge—O slave! (Dies. Fleance escapes.) Third Murderer: Who did strike out the light? First Murderer: Was’t not the way? Third Murderer: There’s but one down: the son is fled. Second Murderer: We have lost best half of our affair. First Murderer: Well, let’s away, and say how much is done. (Exeunt.) Scene Four. The same. A Room of state in the Palace. A banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Ross, Lennox, Lords and Attendants. Macbeth: You know your own degrees, sit down. At first And last the hearty welcome. Lords: Thanks to your Majesty. Macbeth: 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 Macbeth: Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends; For my heart speaks they are welcome. Enter first Murderer to the door. Macbeth: See, they encounter thee with their hearts’ thanks. Both sides are even: here I’ll sit i’ th’ midst. Be large in mirth; anon we’ll drink a measure The table round. There’s blood upon thy face. Murderer: ’Tis Banquo’s then. Macbeth: ’Tis better thee without than he within. Is he dispatch’d? Murderer: My lord, his throat is cut. That I did for him. Macbeth: Thou art the best o’ th’ cut-throats; Yet he’s good that did the like for Fleance: If thou didst it, thou art the nonpareil. Murderer: Most royal sir, Fleance is ’scap’d. Macbeth: 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? Murderer: Ay, my good lord. Safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head; The least a death to nature. Macbeth: Thanks for that. There the grown serpent lies; the worm that’s fled Hath nature that in time will venom breed, No teeth for th’ present.—Get thee gone; tomorrow We’ll hear, ourselves, again. (Exit Murderer.)
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