By his lov’d mansionry, that the heaven’s breath
Smells wooingly here: no jutty frieze,
Buttress, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird
Hath made his pendent bed, and procreant cradle;
Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ’d,
The air is delicate.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
Duncan. See, see! our honor’d hostess!
The love that follows us, sometime is our trouble,
Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you,