MACBETH. See, they encounter thee with their hearts’ thanks. Both sides are even: here I’ll sit i’ th’ midst.

Be large in mirth; anon we’ll drink a measure The table round. There’s blood upon thy face.

MURDERER. ’Tis Banquo’s then.

MACBETH. ’Tis better thee without than he within. Is he dispatch’d?

MURDERER. My lord, his throat is cut. That I did for him.

MACBETH. Thou art the best o’ th’ cut-throats; Yet he’s good that did the like for Fleance: If thou didst it, thou art the nonpareil.

MURDERER. Most royal sir, Fleance is ’scap’d.