As breath into the wind.-'Would, they had staid!

Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak about?

Or have we eaten of the insane root,

That takes the reason prisoner?

Mach. Your children shall be kings.
Ban.

You shall be king.

Mach. And thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?

Ban. To the selfsame tune, and words. Who's here?

Enter ROSSE and ANGUS.

Rosse. The king hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,

The news of thy success: and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,

Which should be thine, or his: Silenc'd with that,

In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as tale,
Came post with post; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
And pour'd them down before him.
Ang.
We are sent,
To give thee, from our royal master, thanks;
To herald thee into his sight, not pay thee.

Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honour, He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:

In which addition, hail, most worthy thane! For it is thine.

Ban.

What, can the devil speak true? Mach. The thane of Cawdor lives? Why do you dress me

In borrow'd robes?

Ang.

Who was the thane, lives yet; But under heavy judgment bears that life Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin'd

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 prov'd,
Have overthrown him.

Macb.

Glamis, and thane of Cawdor; The greatest is behind.-Thanks for your pains.

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.

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 us
In deepest consequence.-

Cousins, a word, I pray you.

Macb.

Two truths are told,

As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme.-1 thank you, gentle.

men.

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.

Ban.

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

chance may crown me,

Without my stir.

Ban.

New honours come upon him

Like our strange garments; cleave not to their

mould,

Macb. 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 leafto 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.

Ban.

Very gladly.

Macb. Till then, enough.-Come, friends.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Fores. A Room in the Palace. Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENOX, 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.-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 de-
serv'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 ser

vants; Which do but what they should, by doing every thing

Safe toward your love and honour.

Dun. Welcome hither: I have begun to plant thee, and will labour 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 enfold thee, And hold thee to my heart.

Ban.

There if I grow,

The harvest is your own.
Dun.
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.

Mach. 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.

Dun.

My worthy Cawdor! Mach. The prince of Cumberland!-That is a

step,

On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap,

[Aside. 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. Let us after him,
Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome :
It is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Inverness. A Room in Macbeth's Castle.

Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a Letter. Lady M. 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 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 promis'd:-Yet do I fear thy nature;

It is too full o' the milk of human kindness, To catch the nearest way: Thou would'st be great;

Art not without ambition; but without

The illness should attend it. What thou would'st

highly,

That would'st thou holily; would'st not play false,

And yet would'st wrongly win; thou'd'st 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.

Attend. The king comes here to-night. Lady M. Thou'rt mad to say it: Is not thy master with him? who, wer't so, Would have inform'd for preparation.