"O Banquo! Banquo!
Our royal master's murder'd!
What! In our house?
Too cruel any where.
Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself,
And say it is not so.
Had I but died an hour before this chance
I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant,
There's nothing serious in mortality,
All is but toys; reown and grace is dead,
The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
Is left this vault to brag of.
What is amiss?
You are, and do not know 't:
The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd." II, iii, 90-102.