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Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus
Thou'rt so far before,
Macb. The service and the loyalty I owe,
King. Welcome hither :
Ban. There if I grow,
King. My plenteous joys,
(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
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.
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
It is too full o'th' milk of human kindness,
highly, That wouldit thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldft wrongly win. Thou dit have, great
Mes. The King comes here to night.
Lady. Thou’rt mad to say it.
Mes. So please you, it is true: our Thane is coming.
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,
Lady. And when goes hence ?
Lady. Oh, never
Macb. We will speak further.
Lady. Only look up clear:
[Exeunt. * You wait on nature's mischief-1 Nature, for Human. + And pall thee.mj i. c. wrap thyself in a Pall.
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.