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My lord, I will not.
Fail not our feast.
True, my lord.
Both of you know Banquo was your enemy
O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly fly! Thou mayst revenge-- O slave!
Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee
Sit worthy friends. My lord is often thus and hath been from his youth.
Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.
Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.
Sent he to Macduff?
He did: and with an absolute 'Sir, not I,'The cloudy messenger turns me his back,And hums, as who should say 'You'll rue the timeThat clogs me with this answer.'
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