Enter Macbeth, and a servant with a torch
BANQUO Give me my sword.—Who’s there?
MACBETH A friend.
BANQUO What, sir, not yet at rest? The King’s a-bed.
He hath been in unusual pleasure, and
Sent forth great largess to your offices.
This diamond he greets your wife withal,
[He gives Macbeth the jewel]
By the name of most kind hostess, and shut up
In measureless content.
MACBETH Being unprepared,
Our will became the servant to defect,
Which else should free have wrought.
BANQUO All’s well. (2.1.9-18)
Again, that it’s very, very dark is reinforced: not just that Macbeth enters with another torchbearer, but that he needs a torch to see around his own castle in the dark. And Banquo’s jumpy, immediately asking Fleance for his sword back: who’s there? he asks, a challenge, as much as a request for information. Macbeth answers it in part as if Banquo’s the watchman—a friend is what one might reply—but there’s scope for playing it almost as, it’s me, you silly, only me—as well as the fact that it’s so loaded. What kind of a friend is Macbeth going to be to Banquo? But Banquo’s relieved, relaxes: what, sir, not yet at rest? aren’t you in bed yet? the King is; he’s been having such a great time he’s exhausted—over-exerted himself in this unusual pleasure, these unaccustomed revels; he’s not used to it any more (so emphasising Duncan’s age, his frailty, perhaps). He’s been tipping your servants generously, though; he’s sent forth great largess to your offices (that is, the household offices, the various different kinds of servant). And there’s more: this diamond he greets your wife withal, by the name of most kind hostess. Has Banquo been sent to find Macbeth to pass on the jewel? Or is he meant to be taking charge of it, to give to Lady Macbeth in the morning? Either way, again it underlines Duncan’s trust of the Macbeths, his generosity, and the depth of the betrayal that they are contemplating. She has been a most kind hostess (more irony)—and having showered money on the servants and given this to me to give to you, or your wife, Duncan shut up in measureless content. Shut up here is either stopped talking—the impression might be of a garrulous old man, going on and on about how kind everyone has been—or it could suggest going to bed, retiring. Whatever, he went to bed entirely happy, in measureless content. Macbeth reverts to his convoluted courtesy: it was nothing, really; being unprepared, given the short to non-existent notice that the actual King was coming—we just did our best, did what we could, with our willingness, our desire to please, compensating for the shortcomings of our hospitality. Our will became the servant to defect which else should free have wrought. Banquo perhaps worries that Macbeth’s feeling insecure about it, and so reassures him: All’s well, don’t worry, you did great; terrific party, happy King. All’s well.
