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With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
But treasons capital, confess'd and proved,

Have overthrown him.


[Aside] Glamis, and thane of Cawdor! The greatest is behind. [To Ross and Angus.] Thanks for your pains.

[To Banquo.] Do you not hope your children shall be kings, When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me

Promised no less to them?


That trusted home

Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,

Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,

The instruments of darkness tell us truths,

Win us with honest trifles, to betray's

In deepest consequence.

Cousins, a word, I pray you.


[Aside] Two truths are told,

An happy prologues to the swelling act

Of the imperial theme.-I thank you, gentlemen. [Aside] This supernatural soliciting

Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,

Why hath it given me earnest of success,

Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings :

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is

But what is not.


Look how our partner's rapt.

I 20



Macbeth. [Aside] If chance will have me king, why, chance

Without my stir.

[may crown me,


New honours come upon him,

Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould

But with the aid of use.

Macbeth. [Aside] Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

Banquo. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. Macbeth. Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains

Are register'd where every day I turn

The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.

Think upon what hath chanced, and at more time,
The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak

Our free hearts each to other.


Very gladly.

Macbeth. Till then, enough. Come, friends.

SCENE IV. Forres. The palace.



Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, and Attendants.

Duncan. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet return'd?


My liege,

They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die: who did report
That very frankly he confess'd his treasons,
Implored your highness' pardon and set forth
A deep repentance: nothing in his life
Became him like the leaving it; he died
As one that had been studied in his death
To throw away the dearest thing he owed
As 'twere a careless trifle.


There's no art

To find the mind's construction in the face:

He was a gentleman on whom I built

An absolute trust.



O worthiest cousin!

The sin of my ingratitude even now

Was heavy on me: thou art so far before
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow

To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved,
That the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
More is thy due than more than all can pay.
Macbeth. The service and the loyalty I owe,
In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
Is to receive our duties: and our duties

Are to your throne and state children and servants;
Which do but what they should, by doing every thing
Safe toward your love and honour.


Welcome hither:

I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
That hast no less deserved, nor must be known
No less to have done so: let me infold thee
And hold thee to my heart.


The harvest is your own.


There if I grow,

My plenteous joys,

Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes,
And you whose places are the nearest, know
We will establish our estate upon

Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter
The Prince of Cumberland: which honour must
Not unaccompanied invest him only,

But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
On all deservers. From hence to Inverness,

And bind us further to you.

Macbeth. The rest is labour, which is not used for you: I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful




The hearing of my wife with your approach;
So humbly take my leave.


My worthy Cawdor!


Macbeth. [Aside] The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.


Duncan. True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant,

And in his commendations I am fed;

Let's after him,

Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome :

It is a banquet to me.

It is a peerless kinsman.

[Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE V. Inverness. Macbeth's castle.

Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a letter.

Lady Macbeth. 'They met me in the day of success: and I have learned by the perfectest report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who all-hailed me "Thane of Cawdor"; by which title, before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of time, with "Hail, king that shalt be!" This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell." Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be

What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness

To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great;

Art not without ambition, but without

The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly,


That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,

And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'ldst have, great Glamis, That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it';

And that which rather thou dost fear to do

Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither,

That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;
And chastise with the valour of my tongue
All that impedes thee from the golden round
Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem
To have thee crown'd withal.

Enter a Messenger.

Messenger. The king comes here to-night.

Lady Macbeth.


What is your tidings?

Thou'rt mad to say it:


Is not thy master with him? who, were't so,

Would have inform'd for preparation.

Messenger. So please you, it is true: our thane is coming :

One of my fellows had the speed of him,

Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more

Than would make up his message.

Lady Macbeth.

He brings great news.

Give him tending;

[Exit Messenger.

The raven himself is hoarse

That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature

Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances

You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,


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