Banquo. And she goes down at twelve.
Fleance. I take’t, ’tis later, Sir.
Banquo. Hold, take my sword. There’s husbandry in heav’n,
Their candles are all out.—
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And yet I would not sleep: Merciful Powers,
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
Gives way to in repose.’
In like manner, a fine idea is given of the gloomy coming on of evening, just as Banquo is going to be assassinated.
‘Light thickens and the crow