This castle hath a pleasant seat; the airNimbly and sweetly recommends itselfUnto our gentle senses.
The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breathSmells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze
See, see, our honored hostess. The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. Herin, I teach you How you shall bid God 'ild us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble.
Lady MacBeth enters to greet Duncan and Banquo.
Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle. Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, The air is delicate.
Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in countTo make their audit at your highness' pleasure,Still to return your own.
Where's the Thane of Cawdor?We coursed him at the heels, and had a purposeTo be his purveyor. But he rides well,And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath helped himTo his home before us. Fair and noble hostess,We are your guest to-night.
Conduct me to mine host. We love him highly, And shall continue our graces towards him. By your leave, hostess.
Duncan demands from Lady MacBeth to see MacBeth.
Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in countTo make their audit at your highness' pleasure,Still to return your own.