Combin'd with 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 treafons capital, confefs'd, and prov'd,
Have overthrown him.

Macb. Glamis and Thane of Cawdor!
The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains.

[Afide.

[To Angus.

Do you not hope, your children fhall be Kings?

[To Banquo.

When thofe that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no lefs to them?

Ban. That, trufted home,

Might yet enkindle you unto the Crown,
Befides the Thane of Cawdor.

But 'tis ftrange:

And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The inftruments of Darkness tell us truths;
Win us with honeft trifles, to betray us

In deepest confequence.

Coufins, a word, I pray you.

Mach. Two truths are told,

[To Roffe and Angus.

[Afide.

As happy prologues to the fwelling act

Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen

This fupernatural Solliciting

Cannot be ill; cannot be good.

If ill,

Why hath it giv'n me earnest of fuccefs,
Commencing in a truth? I'm Thane of Cawdor.
If good; why do I yield to that fuggeftion,
Whofe horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my feated heart knock at my ribs
Against the use of nature? prefent feats (7)

(7)

prefent Fears

Are

Are less than horrible Imaginings.] Macbeth, while he is projec. ting the Murder, which he afterwards puts in Execution, is thrown into the most agonizing Affright at the Profpect of it: which foon recovering from, thus he reafons on the Nature of his Disorder. But Imaginings are so far from being more or less than prefent Fears, that they are the fame Things under different Words. Shakespeare certainly wrote;

prefent

D

Are less than horrible imaginings.

My thought, whofe murther yet is but fantastical,
Shakes fo my fingle ftate of man, that Function
Is fmother'd in furmife; and nothing is,

But what is not.

Ban. Look, how our Partner's rapt!

Mach. If Chance will have me King, why, Chance

may crown me,

Without my flir.

Ban. New Honours, come upon him,

[Afide.

Like our ftrange garments cleave not to their mould,
But with the aid of use.

Mach. Come what come may,

Time and the hour runs thro' the roughest day.
Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leifure.
Macb. Give me your favour: my dull brain was
wrought

With things forgot. Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are registred where every day I turn

The leaf to read them- Let us tow'rd the King;
Think, upon what hath chanc'd; and at more time,
[To Banquo.
(The Interim having weigh'd it,) let us fpeak

Our free hearts each to other.

Ban. Very gladly.

Macb. 'Till then, enough: come, friends. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Palace.

Flourish. Enter King, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, and attendants.

King.

S execution done on Cawdor yet?

Or not those in commiffion yet return'd ?

prefent Feats

Are less than horrible Imaginings.

i. e. When I come to execute this Murder, I fhall find it much lefs dreadful than my frighted Imagination now prefents it to A confideration drawn from the Nature of the Imagination.

me.

Mr. Warburton.

Mal.

Mal. My liege,

They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that faw him die; who did report,
That very frankly the confefs'd his treafons;
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 conftruction in the face:
He was a gentleman, on whom I built
An abfolute trust.

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Roffe, and Angus.

O worthieft Coufin!

The fin of my ingratitude e'en now

Was heavy on me. Thou'rt fo far before,
'That fwifteft wing of recompence is flow,

To overtake thee. 'Would, thou'dft lefs deferv'd,
That the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine! only I've left to fay,
More is thy due, than more than all can pay.
Macb. The fervice and the loyalty. I owe,
In doing it, pays it felf. Your Highness' part
Is to receive our duties; and our duties

Are to your Throne, and State, children and fervants; Which do but what they fhould, by doing every thing Safe 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
lefs defervid, 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 harvest is your own.

King. My plenteous joys,

Wanton in fulness, feek to hide themselves

Are less than horrible imaginings.

My thought, whofe murther yet is but fantaftical,
Shakes fo my fingle state of man, that Function
Is fmother'd in furmife; and nothing is,

But what is not.

Ban. Look, how our Partner's rapt!

Mach. If Chance will have me King, why, Chance

Ban. New Honours, come upon him,

[Afide.

Like our strange garments cleave not to their mould, But with the aid of use.

Mach. Come what come may,

Time and the hour runs thro' the rougheft day.
Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leifure.
Mach. Give me your favour: my dull brain was
wrought

With things forgot. Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are registred where every day I turn

The leaf to read them- Let us tow'rd the King;
Think, upon what hath chanc'd; and at more time,

[To Banquo. (The Interim having weigh'd it,) let us fpeak

Our free hearts each to other.

Ban. Very gladly.

Macb. 'Till then, enough: come, friends. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Palace.

Flourish. Enter King, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox,

i. e. When I come to execute this Murder, I fhall find it much lefs dreadful than my frighted Imagination now prefents it to A confideration drawn from the Nature of the Imagination. Mr. Warburton.

me.

Mal.

3

Mal. My liege,

They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that faw him die; who did report,
That very frankly he confefs'd his treafons
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 carelefs trifle.

King. There's no art,

To find the mind's construction in the face:
He was a gentleman, on whom I built
An abfolute truft.

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Roffe, and Angus.

O worthieft Coufin!

The fin of my ingratitude e'en now

Was heavy on me. Thou'rt fo far before,
That swifteft wing of recompence is flow,

To overtake thee. 'Would, thou'dst less deserv'd,
That the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine! only I've left to fay,
More is thy due, than more than all can pay.
Macb. The fervice and the loyalty. I owe,
In doing it, pays it felf. Your Highness' part
Is to receive our duties; and our duties

Are to your Throne, and State, children and fervants;
Which do but what they fhould, by doing every thing
Safe 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 lefs defervid, 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 harvest is your own.
King. My plenteous joys,

Wanton in fulness, feek to hide themselves