Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. Macb. Give me your favour:—my dull brain was

wrought

With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are registered where every day I turn
The leaf to read them.—Let us toward the King.—

[Aside to Banquo.

Think upon what hath chanced; and, at more time,
The interim having weighed it, let us speak
Our free hearts each to other.
Ban. Very gladly.
Macb. Till then, enough.—Come, friends.

[March.—Exeunt, R.

Scene IV.—The Palace at Fores.—Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.

Enter King Duncan, Donalbain, Malcolm, Rosse, and two Chamberlains, L.

King. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not
Those in commission yet returned?

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 confessed 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.

King. 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 Macduff, Macbeth, Banquo, and Lenox, L.

Oh, 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've 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 everything
Safe toward your love and honour.

King. 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 enfold thee,
And hold thee to my heart.

Ban. There, if I grow,
The harvest is your own.

King. 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.

Macb. 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.
[Aside, and crossing, R.] 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, R.
King. 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 of Trumpets and Drums —Exeunt, R.

Scene V.—Macbeth's Castle at Inverness.
Enter Lady Macbeth, R., 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 farther, 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 ~~" and referred me to the coming on of time, with. Hail, k .jg that shall 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 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 wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great Gla

mis,

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 crowned withal. *'

Enter Seyton, L.

What is your tidings?

Sey. The King comes here to-night.

V.]

Lady M. Thou'rt mad to say it!
Is not thy master with him? who, were't so,
Would have informed for preparation.

Sei/. 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 M. Give him tending—

He brings great news. [Exit Seyton, L.

The raven himself is hoarse,
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, all you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, urisex me here;
And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;
Stop up tL'' #cess and passage to remorse;
That no comp'unctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose; nor keep pace 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!
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry, "Hold, hold!"-.-

Enter Macbeth, L.

Great Glarnis! worthy Cawdor!
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.

Macb. My dearest love,
Duncan comes here to-night.

Lady M. And when goes hence?

Macb, To-morrow—as he purposes.

Lady M. Oh, never
Shall sun that morrow see!

Your face, my Thane, is as a book, where men
May read strange matters.—To beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye.

Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under it. He that's coming
Must be provided for: and you shall put
This night's great business into my dispatch;
Which shall to all our days and nights to come,
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.

Macb. We will speak further.

Lady M. Only look up clear; To alter favour ever is to fear: Leave all the rest to me. . [Exeunt, R.

Scene VI.—The Gates of Inverness Castle.—Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.

Enter King Duncan, Banquo, Malcolm, Donat.bain,
Macdupp, Lenox, Rosse, and Attendants, R.

King. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
Unto our gentle senses.

Ban. This guest of summer,
The temple-haunting martlet,* does approve,
By his loved mansionry, that the Heaven's breath
Smells wooingly here; no jutty frieze,
Buttress, or coigne† of vantage, but this bird
Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle.
Where they most breed and haunt,—I have observed
The air is delicate.

Enter Lady Macbeth, Seyton, and two Ladies, from the
Castle Gates.

King. See, see! our honoured hostess!
The love that follows us sometimes is our trouble,
Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you,
How you shall bid Heaven yield us for your pains,
And thank us for your trouble.

Lady M. All our service

In every point twice done, and then done double,
Were poor and single business, to contend
Against those honours, deep and broad, wherewith
Your majesty loads our house: For those of old,
And the late dignities heaped up to them,
We rest your hermits.