MACBETH There the grown serpent lies. The worm that’s fled
Hath nature that in time will venom breed,
No teeth for th’ present. Get thee gone. Tomorrow
We’ll hear ourselves again.
Exit Murderer
LADY My royal lord,
You do not give the cheer. The feast is sold
That is not often vouched, while ’tis a-making,
’Tis given with welcome. To feed were best at home.
From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony;
Meeting were bare without it. (3.4.28-36)
Banquo is the grown serpent who’s threatened Macbeth’s peace (as he sees it), recalling his anguished observation to Lady Macbeth in 3.2: ‘We have scorched the snake, not killed it’; then the snake was Duncan. (This snake is a many-headed hydra.) Fleance is the worm that’s fled, now the focus of Macbeth’s fear, because he’s going to grow up: he hath nature that in time will venom breed, even if he currently has no teeth for the present. Macbeth, who has no children of his own, perhaps poignantly recognises that Fleance is a good brave lad, his father’s son, although he isn’t yet a realistic threat. But he will be, especially in a world where sons avenge their fathers. (Another glance back at Hamlet, in which the Ghost recounts the way in which the false narrative of his death is that he was stung by a serpent while sleeping in his orchard, whereas in truth ‘the serpent that did sting thy father’s life now wears his crown’, 1.5). Macbeth’s trying to reassure himself, to talk himself down from this rising panic, not least so that he can get rid of this dreadful man, so out of place at the feast, with his bloody face. Perhaps others are starting to stare; Lady Macbeth certainly is. So, get thee gone, get out of here, he tells the Murderer. We’ll talk again tomorrow or, in his rather strange formulation, we’ll hear ourselves again. (Probably more uncanny to the modern ear: Macbeth, will you just listen to yourself? Like he’s started to be unable to bear the sound of his own voice.)
An intervention, which can either be delivered publicly, as it were, with a smile, look at my husband, never off-duty, dealing with something even when he’s meant to be hosting a dinner party. Or else hissed, pull yourself together, remember what you’re meant to be doing and do it. It’s a bit of both; it doesn’t matter if the guests hear every word, but there’s a thread of steel running through this. She mightn’t quite have worked out what’s up, but she knows that something’s gone wrong, and she’s setting out on a salvage operation. My royal lord—remember who you are—you do not give the cheer. It could be quite precise; you’ve just told everyone that there’s going to be a formal toast, they’re waiting, glasses full, but you haven’t done it. More generally, you’re not exactly encouraging everyone to have a good time! The feast is sold, that is not often vouched; a vouch is a pledge, a toast, and by not following the formal customs of hospitality, it’s as if it’s not a celebration, a lovely free welcome, but rather a commercial transaction. To feed were best at home: if you just want a meal, to refuel, you might as well stay at home, but these are our guests! they’re not at home, they don’t just want to be fed—they want to have a good time. And the sauce to meat is ceremony, the little rituals and customs of community are what transform a meal into a feast, make a gathering like this a special occasion. (This might resonate particularly if the staging looks at all like the Last Supper.) Meeting were bare without it, without ceremony, hospitality, welcome. It’s up to you to make this special. (PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER! DO YOUR JOB!)
