Macbeth.

Two truths are told,

As happy prologues to the swelling act

Of the imperial theme.-I thank you, gentlemen.—
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.

Banquo.

Look, how our partner's rapt. Macbeth. If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,

Without my stir.

Banquo.

New honours come upon him

Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould, But with the aid of use.

Macbeth. Come what come may; Time and the hours 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 chanc'd: and, at more time,
The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak

Our free hearts each to other.

Banquo.

Very gladly.

Macbeth. Till then, enough.—Come, friends. [Exeunt.

6 Incitement.

8 Time and opportunity.

7i. e. Which cleave not.

9 Pardon.

SCE IV.-FORES. A Room in the Palace.

Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENOX, and ATTENDANTS.

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

Malcolm.

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;
Implor'd 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 ow'd,1
As 'twere a careless trifle.

Duncan.

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!

Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, ROSSE, and ANGUS.

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 deserv'd:
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.

Duncan.

Welcome hither'

I have begun to plant thee, and will labour

1 Owned, possessed,

To make thee full of growing.-Noble Banquo,
That hast no less deserv❜d, nor must be known
No less to have done so, let me infold thee,
And hold thee to my heart.

Banquo.

The harvest is your own.

Duncan.

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 us'd for you: I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful

The hearing of my wife with your approach;

So, humbly take my leave.

Duncan.

My worthy Cawdor!

Macbeth. The prince of Cumberland! That is a step,

On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap,
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.

[A side.

[Exit.

Duncan. True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant;2

And in his commendations I am fed;

It is a banquet to me.

Let us after him,

Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:

It is a peerless kinsman.

[Flourish. Exeunt.

* Full as valiant as described.

SCENE V.-INVERNESS. A Room in 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 missives3 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 mightest 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'dst 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.-What is your tidings?
Enter an ATTENDANT.

Attendant. The king comes here to-night.

Lady Macbeth.

5 Supernatural.

Is not thy master with him? who, wer't so,
Would have inform'd for preparation.

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

Cne 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,

The raven himself is hoarse,

[Exit ATTENDANT.

That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, 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 murd'ring ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances

8

You wait on nature's mischief: Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell!
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes;
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry, Hold, hold!- Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor!

Enter MACBETH.

Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!
Thy letters have transported me beyond

This ignorant present, and I feel now

The future in the instant.