THIRD WITCH. Hail!
FIRST WITCH. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
SECOND WITCH. Not so happy, yet much happier.
THIRD WITCH. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none.
So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
FIRST WITCH. Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
MACBETH. Stay, you
imperfect speakers, tell me more.
By Sinel's death I know I am Thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives,
A
prosperous gentleman; and to be King
Stands not within the
prospect of belief,
No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this strange
intelligence, or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
With such
prophetic greeting? Speak, I
charge you.
Witches vanish.
BANQUO. The earth hath bubbles as the water has,
And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?
MACBETH. Into the air, and what seem'd
corporal melted
As
breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!
BANQUO. Were such things here as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten on the
insane root
That takes the reason prisoner?
MACBETH. Your children shall be 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 received, 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. Silenced with that,
In viewing o'er the rest o' the
selfsame 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 combined
With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
With
hidden help and
vantage, or that with both
He labor'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. [To Ross and Angus] Thanks for your
pains.
[Aside to Banquo] Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me
Promised no less to them?
BANQUO. [Aside to Macbeth.] 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 murther 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 chanced, 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. 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,
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.
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 deserved,
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 lowe,
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 begun to plant thee, and will labor
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 infold thee
And hold thee to my heart.
BANQUO. There if I grow,
The
harvest is your own.
DUNCAN. 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 honor 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.
MACBETH. The rest is labor, 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.
DUNCAN. My
worthy Cawdor!
MACBETH. [Aside.] 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.
DUNCAN. True,
worthy Banquo! He is full so valiant,
And in his commendations I am fed;
It is a
banquet to me. Let's after him,
Whose care is gone before to bid us
welcome.
It is a
peerless kinsman. Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Inverness. Macbeth's castle.
Enter Lady Macbeth,
reading a letter.
LADY MACBETH. "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
further, 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 me and referred 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 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 wouldst be great;
Art not without
ambition, but without
The
illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly,
That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou'ldst have, great Glamis,