Thanks for that: There the grown serpent lies; the worm that’s fled Hath nature that in time will venom breed, No teeth for the present. Get thee gone: to-morrow We’ll hear, ourselves, again. Exit Murderer .

My royal lord, You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold That is not often vouch’d, while ’tis a-making, ’Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home; From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony; Meeting were bare without it.

Sweet remembrancer! Now, good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both!

Here had we now our country’s honour roof’d, Were the graced person of our Banquo present; Who may I rather challenge for unkindness Than pity for mischance!