Banq. And she goes downe at Twelue

Fleance. I take't, 'tis later, Sir

Banq. Hold, take my Sword:
There's Husbandry in Heauen,
Their Candles are all out: take thee that too.
A heauie Summons lyes like Lead vpon me,
And yet I would not sleepe:
Mercifull Powers, restraine in me the cursed thoughts
That Nature giues way to in repose.
Enter Macbeth, and a Seruant with a Torch.

Giue me my Sword: who's there?
Macb. A Friend

Banq. What Sir, not yet at rest? the King's a bed.
He hath beene in vnusuall Pleasure,
And sent forth great Largesse to your Offices.
This Diamond he greetes your Wife withall,
By the name of most kind Hostesse,
And shut vp in measurelesse content

Mac. Being vnprepar'd,
Our will became the seruant to defect,
Which else should free haue wrought

Banq. All's well.
I dreamt last Night of the three weyward Sisters: