Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus
O worthiest Cousin !
The fin of my ingratitude e'en now
Was heavy on me.

Thou'rt so far before,
That swifteft wing of recompence is slow,
To overtake thee. 'Would, thou dit less deserv’d,
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,
I 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.
* Fref'd tow'rd your Life and honour.

King. Welcome hither :
I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
Thou hast no less desery'd, and 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 eftate upon
Our eldest Malcolm, whom we name hereafter
The Prince of Cumberland : which honour must,
Not accompanied, inveft him only;
But signs of Nobleness, like stars, shall shine
On all deservers. Hence to Inverness,
And bind us further to you.

(you; Macb. The Rest is Labour, which is not us'd for

* Safe toward love and honour.] Shoul be read thus, Fief'd tow'rd your life and honour. i. co their Duties being Fief d, or ingaged to the support of, as feudal Tenants to their Lord.

I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful
The Hearing of my wife with your approach;
So humbly take my leave.

King. My worthy Cawdor!

Macb. The Prince of Cumberland !—that is a step, On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap, [Afde. For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires ! Let not Night 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 fee. (Exit.

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. Exeunt.

Lady. THEY

Changes to an Apartment in Macbeth's Castle, at

Inverness. Enter Lady Macbeth alone, with a letter. 'HEY met me in the day of success; and I have

learn'd by the per fe&ted report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burnt in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into-which they vanish d. While I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came Missives from the King, who all-haild me, Thane of Cawdor; by which title, before, these weyward fisters saluted me, and referr'd 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 promis'd thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewel.

Glamis thou art, and Cawdorand shalt be
What thou art promis'd. Yet do I fear thy nature;

It

It is too full o'th' 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'ft

highly, That wouldit thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldft wrongly win. Thou dit have, great

Glamis,
That which cries, thus thou must do, if thou have it;
And That which rather thou dost fear to do,
Than wishes fhould 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 metaphyfic aid, doth seem
To have crown'd thee withal.

Enter Messenger.
What is your tidings ?

Mes. The King comes here to night.

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

Mes. 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. Give him tending; He brings great news.

The raven himself's not hoarse,

[Exit Mef. That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, all you Spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me bere; And fill me, from the crown to th' toe, top-full Of direct cruelty; make thick my blood, Stop up th' access and passage to Remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between

Th' effect, and it. Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring mi

nifters! Where-ever in your fightless substances * You wait on nature's mischief-Come, thick night! +And pall thee in the dunneft smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes; Nor heav'n peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, hold, hold!

Enter Macbeth. Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor! [Embracing him Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter.! Thy letters have transported me beyond This ign'rant present time, and I feel now The future in the instant.

Macb. Dearest love,
Duncan comes here to night.

Lady. And when goes hence ?
Macb. To-morrow, as he purposes.

Lady. 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 ferpent under't. He, that's coming,
Must be provided for; and you shall put
This night's great business into my dispatch,
Which Ihall io all our nights and days to come
Give solely fovereign fway and masterdom.

Macb. We will speak further.

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

[Exeunt. * You wait on nature's mischief-1 Nature, for Human. + And pall thee.mj i. c. wrap thyself in a Pall.

SCENE

S CE N E VIII.

Before Macbeth's Castle-Gate. Hautboys and Torches. Enter King,

Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo,

Banquo, Lenox, Macduff, Roffe, Angus, and Attendants. King. THIS Castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air

Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our general sense.

Ban. This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve By his lov'd Manfionry that heaven's breath Smells wooingly here. No jutting frieze, Buttrice, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendant bed, and procreant cradle: Where they most breed and haunt, I have obsery'd, The air is delicate.

Enter Lady. King. See, see! our honour'd Hostess! The love that follows us, sometimes is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you, * How you should bid god-yeld us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble.

Lady. 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 heap'd up to them, We rest your Hermits.

King. Where's the Thane of Cawdor ? We courst him at the heels, and had a purpose To be his purveyor: but he rides well, And his great love, (Sharp as his spur,) hath holp him

* How you should bid god-yeld us-] To bid any one god-yeld him, i. e. god-yield him, was the same as God reward him.

To's