Macbeth | Page 5

kings.
BANQUO. You shall be king.
MACBETH. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?
BANQUO. To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here?
[Enter Ross and Angus.]
ROSS. 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 self-same day, He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, Strange images of death. As thick as hail Came post with post; and every one did bear Thy praises in his kingdom's great defense, And pour'd them down before him.
ANGUS. We are sent To give thee, from our royal master, thanks; Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee.
ROSS. And, for an earnest of a greater honor, He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor: In which addition, hail, most worthy thane, For it is thine.
BANQUO. What, can the devil speak true?
MACBETH. The Thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me In borrow'd robes?
ANGUS. Who was the Thane lives yet; But under heavy judgement 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 proved, Have overthrown him.
MACBETH. [Aside.] 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?
BANQUO. 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.
MACBETH. [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 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.
BANQUO. Look, how our partner's rapt.
MACBETH. [Aside.] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me Without my stir.
BANQUO. New honors come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use.
MACBETH. [Aside.] Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
BANQUO. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
MACBETH. Give me your favor:--my dull brain was wrought With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains Are register'd where every day I turn The leaf to 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.
BANQUO. Very gladly.
MACBETH. Till then, enough.--Come, friends.
[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. Forres. A Room in the Palace.
[Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, and Attendants.]
DUNCAN. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet return'd?
MALCOLM. 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.
DUNCAN. 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, Ross, 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.
MACBETH. 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 honor.
DUNCAN. Welcome hither: I have