1. SCENE I. Inverness. Court within the Castle.
[Enter Banquo, preceeded by Fleance with a torch.]
How goes the night, boy?
The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.
And she goes down at twelve.
I take't, 'tis later, sir.
Hold, take my sword.--There's husbandry in heaven;
Their candles are all out:--take thee that too.--
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And yet I would not sleep:--merciful powers,
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
Gives way to in repose!--Give me my sword.
[Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch.]
What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's a-bed:
He hath been in unusual pleasure and
Sent forth great largess to your officers:
This diamond he greets your wife withal,
By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up
In measureless content.
Our will became the servant to defect;
Which else should free have wrought.
I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:
To you they have show'd some truth.
I think not of them:
Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,
We would spend it in some words upon that business,
If you would grant the time.
At your kind'st leisure.
If you shall cleave to my consent,--when 'tis,
It shall make honor for you.
So I lose none
In seeking to augment it, but still keep
My bosom franchis'd, and allegiance clear,
I shall be counsell'd.
Good repose the while!