Forres. A Room in the Palace.
Thou hast it now, — king, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weird women promis'd; and, I fear,
Thou play'dst most foully for't; yet it was said
It should not stand in thy posterity;
But that myself should be the root and father
Of many kings. If there come truth from them, —
As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine, —
Why, by the verities on thee made good,
May they not be my oracles as well,
And set me up in hope? But hush; no more.
[Sennet sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth
as Queen; Lennox, Ross, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants.]
Here's our chief guest.
If he had been forgotten,
It had been as a gap in our great feast,
And all-thing unbecoming.
To-night we hold a solemn supper, sir,
And I'll request your presence.
Let your highness
Command upon me; to the which my duties
Are with a most indissoluble tie
For ever knit.
Ride you this afternoon?
Ay, my good lord.
We should have else desir'd your good advice, —
Which still hath been both grave and prosperous, —
In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow.
Is't far you ride?
As far, my lord, as will fill up the time
'Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better,
I must become a borrower of the night,
For a dark hour or twain.
Fail not our feast.
My lord, I will not.
We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'd
In England and in Ireland; not confessing
Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers
With strange invention: but of that to-morrow;
When therewithal we shall have cause of state
Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu,
Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you?
Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon's.
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