1 My liege, They are not yet come back.
2 There's comfort yet; they are assailable.
3 They are, my lord, without the palace gate.
4 Fair and noble hostess, We are your guest tonight.
5 The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them.
6 My hands are of your color, but I shame To wear a heart so white.
7 You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so.
8 Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends; For my heart speaks they are welcome.
9 Where we are, There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood, The nearer bloody.
10 Then tis he; the rest That are within the note of expectation Already are i th court.
11 We are sent To give thee from our royal master thanks; Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee.
12 You are, and do not know't: The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.
13 We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'd In England and in Ireland; not confessing Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers With strange invention.
14 Mine eyes are made the fools o the other senses, Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still; And on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood, Which was not so before.
15 The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die.
16 Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him.
17 Let your remembrance apply to Banquo; Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue: Unsafe the while, that we Must lave our honours in these flattering streams, And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are.
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