Enter Macbeth and a Servant with a torch.

Give me my sword.—Who’s there?

MACBETH. A friend.

BANQUO. What, sir, not yet at rest? The King’s abed: He hath been in unusual pleasure and Sent forth great largess to your offices. 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.