A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And yet I would not sleep:--merciful powers,
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
Gives way to in repose!--Give me my sword.
Who's there?

[Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch.]

MACBETH.
A friend.

BANQUO.
What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's a-bed:
He hath been in unusual pleasure and
Sent forth great largess to your officers:
This diamond he greets your wife withal,
By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up
In measureless content.

MACBETH.
Being unprepar'd,
Our will became the servant to defect;
Which else should free have wrought.

BANQUO.
All's well.
I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:
To you they have show'd some truth.

MACBETH.