Lords

Macbeth
You know your own degrees; sit down. At first
And last, the hearty welcome.  They sit.
Lords
Thanks to your Majesty.
Macbeth
Ourself will mingle with society
And play the humble host.
Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time
We will require her welcome.

But now I am cabined,
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Lady Macbeth
Are you a man?
Macbeth
Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
Which might appall the devil.

If charnel houses and our graves must send
Those that we bury back, our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites.

Lady Macbeth
O, proper stuff!
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