Is to receive our duties; and our duties

Are to your throne and state, children and fervants
Which do but what they should, by doing every thing
Shap'd tow'rd your love and honour.

King. Welcome hither:

I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
Thou haft no less deferv'd, and must be known
No lefs to have done fo: let me enfold thee,
And hold thee to my heart.

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

King. My plenteous joys

Wanton in fulness, feek to hide themselves

In drops of forrow. Sons, kinfmen, and Thanes,
And you whofe places are the nearest, know,
We will establish our estate upon

Our eldest Malcolm, whom we name hereafter
The Prince of Cumberland: which honour muft
Not, unaccompanied, inveft him only,

But figns of nobleness like ftars shall shine
On all defervers.-Hence to Inverness,

And bind us further to you.

[To Macbeth.

Maeb. The reft is labour, which is not us'd for you;
I'll be my felf the harbinger, and make joyful
The hearing of my wife with your approach,
So humbly take my leave.

King. My worthy Cawdor!

Mach. The Prince of Cumberland!-that is a step,

On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap,
For in my way it lyes. Stars, hide your fires,
Let no light fee my black and deep defires;
The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to fee!

[Afide.

[Exit.

King. True, worthy Banquo; he is full of valour, 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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

An Apartment in Macbeth's Cafile at Inverness.

Enter Lady Macbeth alone, with a letter.

Lady. They met me in the day of fuccefs; and I bave learn'd by the perfecteft report, they bave more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burnt in defire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanish'd. While I flood rapt in the wonder of it, came miffives from the King, who all bail'd me Thane of Cawdor, by which title before thefe weird fifters faluted me, and referr'd me to the coming on of time, with hail, King that fhalt be! This bave I thought good to deliver thee (my deareft partner of greatness) that thou might'ft not lofe the dues of rejoicing by being ignorant of what greatness is promis'd thee. Lay it to thy beart, and farewel

Glamis thou art, and Cawdor-and fhalt be
What thou art promis'd.
It is too full o' th' milk of
To catch the neareft way.
Art not without ambition,
The illness should attend it.

Yet I fear thy nature;
human kindness,
Thou wouldst be great,
but without

What thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldft not play false,

And yet wouldft wrongly win. Thou'dft have, great Glamis,
That which cries, This thou must do if thou have it ;
And that's what rather thou doft fear to do,
Than wifheft should be undone. Hie thee hither,
That I may pour my fpirits in thine ear,
And chaftife with the valour of my tongue
All that impedes thee from the golden round,
Which fate and metaphyfic aid doth feem
To have thee crown'd withal.

Enter Meffenger.

What is your tidings?

Mef. The King comes here to-night.

Lady. Thou'rt mad to say it.

Is not thy mafter with him? who, were't fo,

Would have inform'd for preparation.

Mef. So please you, it is true: our Thane is coming.

One of my fellows had the speed of him;

Who

Who almoft dead for breath, had scarcely more
Than would make up his meffage.
Lady. Give him tending,

He brings great news. The raven himself is hoarfe,

[Exit Meffenger.

That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, all you fpirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unfex me here,
And fill me, from the crown to th' toe, top-full
Of direft cruelty; make thick my blood,
Stop up th' accefs and paffage to remorse,
That no compunctious vifitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
Th' effect and it! Come to my woman's breafts,
And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring minifters!
Where-ever in your fightless substances

You wait on nature's mifchief. Come, thick night!
And pall thee in the dunneft smoak of hell,
That my keen knife fee not the wound it makes,
Nor heav'n peep through the blanket of the dark
To cry, Hold, bold!

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 prefent time, and I feel now
The future in the inftant.

Macb. Deareft love,

Duncan comes here to-night.

Lady. And when goes hence?

Macb. To-morrow, as he purposes.

Lady. Oh! never

Shall fun that morrow fee.

Your face, my Thane, is as a book, where men
May read ftrange 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 fhall put
This night's great bufinefs into my difpatch,
H 3

Which

Which fhall to all our nights and days to come
Give folely fovereign fway and mafterdom.
Mach. We will speak further.
Lady. Only look up clear:

To alter favour, ever, is to fear.

Leave all the reft to me,

SCENE VIII. The Caftle Gate.

[Exeunt.

Hautboys and Torches. Enter King, Malcolm, Donalbain,
Banquo, Lenox, Macduff, Roffe, Angus, and Attendants.
King. This caftle hath a pleasant feat; the air
Nimbly and fweetly recommends it felf

Unto our gentle fenfes.

Ban. This gueft of summer,

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

Enter Lady Macbeth.

King. See! our honour'd hoftefs!

The love that follows us, fometimes is our trouble,
Whch ftill we thank as love. Herein I teach you,
How you shall bid Godild us for your pains,
And thank us for your trouble.

Lady. All our fervice

In every point twice done, and then done double,
Were poor and fingle business to contend

Against thofe honours deep and broad, wherewith
Your Majefty loads our houfe. For thofe of old,
And the late dignities heap'd up to them,
We reft your hermits.

King. Where's the Thane of Cawdor?

We cours'd him at the heels, and had a purpose

To be his purveyor: but he rides well,

And his great love, fharp as his fpur, hath holp him
To's home before us: fair and noble hoftefs,

We are your guests to-night.

Lady. Your fervants ever

Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt,
To make their audit at your Highness' pleasure,

Still to return your own.

King. Give me your hand;

Conduct me to mine hoft, we love him highly,
And fhall continue our graces towards him.

By your leave, hoftefs.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IX. An Apartment in the Cafle. Hautboys, Torches. Enter divers Servants with dishes and Service over the Stage. Then Macbeth.

Mach. If it were done, when 'tis done; then 'twere well It were done quickly: if th' affaffination Could tramel up the confequence, and catch With its furceafe, fuccefs; that but this blow Might be the Be-all and the End-all bere, Here only, on this bank and fhoal of time; We'd jump the life to come. But in these cafes We ftill have judgment bere; that we but teach Bloody inftructions, which being taught return To plague th' inventor: even-handed Juftice Returns th' ingredients of our poifon'd chalice To our own lips. He's here in double truft: First, as I am his kinsman and his fubject, Strong both against the deed: then, as his hoft, Who should against his murd'rer fhut the door, Not bear the knife my felf. Befides, this Duncan Hath born his faculties fo meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels trumpet-tongu'd against The deep damnation of his taking off: And Pity, like a naked new-born babe Striding the blaft, or heav'n's cherebin hors'd Upon the fightless courfers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in ev'ry eye, That tears fhall drown the wind.-I have no fpur To prick the fides of my intent, but only Vaulting Ambition, which o'er-leaps it felf, And falls on th' other fide.

SCENE X. Enter Lady Macbeth,

How now? what news?

Lady.