Reading The Tragedy of Macbeth — William Shakespeare

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Macb.

Your Spirits shine through you.

Within this houre, at most,

I will aduise you where to plant your selues,

Acquaint you with the perfect Spy o'th'time,

The moment on't, for't must be done to Night,

And something from the Pallace: alwayes thought,

That I require a clearenesse; and with him,

To leaue no Rubs nor Botches in the Worke:

Fleans, his Sonne, that keepes him companie,

Whose absence is no lesse materiall to me,

Then is his Fathers, must embrace the fate

Of that darke houre: resolue your selues apart,

Ile come to you anon.

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