MACBETH      Ride you this afternoon?

BANQUO        Ay, my good lord.

MACBETH      We should have else desired your good advice,

Which still hath been both grave and prosperous,

In this day’s council. But we’ll talk tomorrow.

Is’t far you ride?

BANQUO        As far, my lord, as will fill up the time

’Twixt this and supper. Go not my horse the better,

I must become a borrower of the night

For a dark hour or twain.

MACBETH      Fail not our feast.

BANQUO        My lord, I will not.     (3.1.19-30)

This little exchange might as well have flashing lights all over it, because Macbeth really doesn’t do small talk, casual enquiries, by the ways, while I’ve got you there’s, and he sounds dodgy as anything. But Banquo also plays along; he’s not going to rock the boat? he’s naïve? an innocent? can’t think ill of his old mate? doesn’t want to raise any suspicions? Whatever, Macbeth wants to know his movements: that Banquo’s going for a ride (and that it’s afternoon; useful to establish this, in a play in which night, and dusk, and nightfall are all significant). That’s a shame you’re going out, says Macbeth, we should have else desired your good advice, which still hath been both grave and prosperous in this day’s council. I wanted to talk with you about something; you always give such good advice, as you did in the council earlier today. But it can wait, until tomorrow. Are you going far, on your ride? Oh, just far enough to pass the time between now and supper; not going anywhere special, no particular plans. Just going out riding, you know? If my horse doesn’t go better than he has been recently, then it might be after nightfall before I’m back: I must become a borrower of the night for a dark hour or twain. Carefully non-committal? not giving away any plans, where he’s going, his plans for coming back? Is there a suggestion that he might not come back, is that Macbeth’s real concern? Or is Banquo really just going out aimlessly, killing time? Macbeth wants him back in good time, though: fail not our feast. You’d better be there. It could be said at least partly in jest (and there’s an irony that is going to come back to, er, haunt Macbeth; Banquo wouldn’t miss it for the world!) The alliterative fail and feast whisper, just softly, fair is foul and foul is fair; these fair words have a foul intent. My lord, I will not, says Banquo. I’ll be there. (And HOW.)