at any time may stumble, on the midnight staircase, in the gallery's pale shimmer, in sleep between his wife and his embrace, and always at his own suggestion of a phrase, a dream. His fancy never yet inflicted such a frightful recoil of an offended Heaven. It comes at his own invitation; for he had said in the forenoon of that day,—
"To-night we hold a solemn supper, sir,
And I'll request your presence;"
to which Banquo acquiesced,—
"Lay your highness'
Command upon me."
"Fail not our feast."
"My lord, I will not."
On the way to it he was a little delayed by being murdered; but, though late, he does not fail.
This tragedy was slowly conceived during the married life of Macbeth and his Lady. Their ambitious desires spent years in collusion before an heir of opportunity was born to them. The rapid and breathless action of the earlier scenes makes clear to us that it does not flow from any sudden resolution. The past years topple in the wave that combs to break into this sweeping surge. The movement of the play is unnatural, unless we admit that the married couple have grown familiar with many projects, all of which make them languish for occasion. Macbeth has revelled in the idea that if the chance offered he possesses every other quality to supplant Duncan,—ambition, audacity, swiftness, all good fortune, except a turn of circumstance. He discovers at
