There the grown serpent lies: the worm that's fled
Hath nature that in time will venom breed,
No teeth for the present. Get thee gone; to-morrow
We'll hear ourselves again. Exit Murderer.
Lady M. My royal lord, 32
You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold
That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a-making,
'Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home;
From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony; 36
Meeting were bare without it.
Macb. Sweet remembrancer!
Now good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!
Len. May it please your highness sit?
Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and sits in Macbeth's place.
Macb. Here had we now our country's honour roof'd, 40
Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present;
Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
Than pity for mischance!
Ross. His absence, sir,
Lays blame upon his promise. Please 't your highness 44
To grace us with your royal company?
Macb. The table's full.
Len. Here is a place reserv'd, sir.
Macb. Where?
Len. Here, my good lord. What is 't that moves your highness? 48
Macb. Which of you have done this?
32 ourselves: each other
33–36 Cf. n.
40 roof'd: gathered under one roof
