[Enter an Attendant.]

What is your tidings?

ATTENDANT.
The king comes here tonight.

LADY MACBETH.
Thou'rt mad to say it:
Is not thy master with him? who, were't so,
Would have inform'd for preparation.

ATTENDANT.
So please you, it is true:--our thane is coming:
One of my fellows had the speed of him;
Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
Than would make up his message.

LADY MACBETH.
Give him tending;
He brings great news.

[Exit Attendant.]

The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here;
And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood,