No More Learning

3. Who did strike out the Light?
1. Was't not the way?
3. There's but one downe: the Sonne is fled

2. We haue lost
Best halfe of our Affaire

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

Exeunt.


Scaena Quarta.

Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and
Attendants.

Macb. You know your owne degrees, sit downe:
At first and last, the hearty welcome

Lords. Thankes to your Maiesty

Macb.
Our selfe will mingle with Society,
And play the humble Host:
Our Hostesse keepes her State, but in best time
We will require her welcome

La. Pronounce it for me Sir, to all our Friends,
For my heart speakes, they are welcome.
Enter first Murtherer.

Macb. See they encounter thee with their harts thanks
Both sides are euen: heere Ile sit i'th' mid'st,
Be large in mirth, anon wee'l drinke a Measure
The Table round. There's blood vpon thy face

Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then

Macb. 'Tis better thee without, then he within.
Is he dispatch'd?
Mur. My Lord his throat is cut, that I did for him

Mac. Thou art the best o'th' Cut-throats,
Yet hee's good that did the like for Fleans:
If thou did'st it, thou art the Non-pareill

Mur. Most Royall Sir
Fleans is scap'd

Macb. Then comes my Fit againe:
I had else beene perfect;
Whole as the Marble, founded as the Rocke,
As broad, and generall, as the casing Ayre:
But now I am cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd, bound in
To sawcy doubts, and feares. But Banquo's safe?
Mur.