BANQUO: How goes the night, boy?
FLEANCE: The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.
BANQUO: And she goes down at twelve.
BANQUO: Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven;
Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. 
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!
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, 
By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up
In measureless content.
MACBETH: If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis, 
It shall make honour for you.
BANQUO: Thanks, sir: the like to you! 
MACBETH: Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.