Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond"
which kept him in perpetual terror, is in part accomplished; and he who was his enemy in, as he says,
"Such bloody distance,
That every minute of his being thrusts
Against my life,"
lies breathless in the dust. The murderers bring the witness of their deed to the very banquet-chamber of the expecting king. They come with blood upon the face. The hardened stabber does not communicate the tidings of his exploit in set phrase. He minces not the matter,—his language is not culled from any trim and weeded vocabulary; and the king compliments him in return, in language equally vernacular and unrefined.
"Mur. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.
Mac. Thou art the best o' the cut-throats."
Cheered by this flattering tribute to his merits, the accomplished artist goes on, in all the pride of his profession, to show that he had left no rubs or botches in his work. Macbeth, after a burst of indignation at the escape of Fleance, recurs to the comfortable assurance of Banquo's death, and asks, in the full certainty of an answer in the affirmative,
"But Banquo's safe?