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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 dy'd
As one that had been studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,
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 Lesox.

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 ser-

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

Safe tour 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 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.

King. 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 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 us'd for Oul : 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 l—That is a step, On whii", must fall down, or else o'er-leap, [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. [Erit MACBETH. 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.-Ereunt.

MACBETH's Castle, at Inverness.
Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a Letter.

Lady. They met me in the day of success; and I have learn'd by the perfectest report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burn'd in desire to question them further, they made themselves—air, into which they vanish'd. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who all hail'd me, “Thane of Cawdor;” by which title, before, these weird sisters 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 mightest not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promis'd 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
That would'st thou holily; would'st not play false,
And yet would'st wrongly win: thou’d'st have, great
That which cries, “Thus thou must do, if thou have
1t ;”
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?
Sey. 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.
Sey. 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. [Erit Seyton.
The raven himself is hoarse,
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, all 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 pace 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
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.

Great Glamis' worthy Cawdor!
Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter 1

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. And when goes hence? Macb. To-morrow, as he purposes. Lady. O, 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 despatch; Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway 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. [Ereunt.


The Gates of Inverness Castle.
Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.

King. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air

Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
Unto our gentle senses.

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