[To Rosse and Angus.]

 

Thanks for your pains.

 

[Aside to Banquo.]

 

Do you not hope your children shall be kings,

When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me

Promis'd no less to them?

BAN [Aside to Macbeth.]

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.

MACB [Aside.]

Two truths are told,

As 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 murther 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.

BAN.

Look how our partner's rapt.

MACB [Aside.]

If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me

Without my stir.

BAN.

New honors come upon him,

Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould

But with the aid of use.

MACB [Aside.]

Come what come may,

Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

BAN.

Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

MACB.

Give me your favor; my dull brain was wrought

With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains

Are regist'red where every day I turn

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

 

[Aside to Banquo.]

 

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.

BAN.

Very gladly.

MACB.

Till then, enough. – Come, friends.

 

Exeunt.

 

 

Scene IV

Flourish. Enter King [Duncan], Lennox, Malcolm, Donalbain, and Attendants.

 

DUN.

Is execution done on Cawdor? [Are] not

Those in commission yet return'd?

MAL.

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,

As 'twere a careless trifle.

DUN.

There's no art

To find the mind's construction in the face:

He was a gentleman on whom I built

An absolute trust.

 

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.

 

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 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.

MACB.

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 honor.

DUN.

Welcome hither!

I have begun to plant thee, and will labor

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.

BAN.

There if I grow,

The harvest is your own.

DUN.

My plenteous joys,

Wanton in fullness, 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 honor must

Not unaccompanied invest him only,

But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine

On all deservers. From hence to Enverness,

And bind us further to you.

MACB.

The rest is labor, 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.

DUN.

My worthy Cawdor!

MACB [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.

 

Exit.

 

DUN.

True, worthy Banquo! he is full so valiant,

And in his commendations I am fed;

It is a banquet to me.