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Both of you know Banquo was your enemy.
Naught's had, all spent, where our desire is got without content.
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep in the affliction of these terrible dreams that shake us nightly.
O treachery! Fly, goo Fleance, fly, fly, fly! Thou mayst revenge- O slave!
Prithee, see there. Behold, look! Lo, how you say?
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear his hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear.
Fly to the court of England and unfold his message ere he come, that a swift blessing may soon return to this our suffering country under a hand accursed.
I'll send my prayers with him.
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