Act I
Scene IV
Forres. The palace.
Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, and Attendants.
Duncan
Is execution done on Cawdor? Are notThose in commission yet return’d?
Malcolm
My liege,They are not yet come back. But I have spokeWith one that saw him die: who did reportThat very frankly he confess’d his treasons,Implored your highness’ pardon and set forthA deep repentance: nothing in his lifeBecame him like the leaving it; he diedAs one that had been studied in his deathTo throw away the dearest thing he owed,As ’twere a careless trifle.
Duncan
There’s no artTo find the mind’s construction in the face:He was a gentleman on whom I builtAn 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 I owe,In doing it, pays itself. Your highness’ partIs to receive our duties; and our dutiesAre to your throne and state children and servants,Which do but what they should, by doing every thingSafe toward your love and honour.
Duncan
Welcome hither:I have begun to plant thee, and will labourTo make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,That hast no less deserved, nor must be knownNo less to have done so, let me enfold theeAnd hold thee to my heart.
Banquo
There if I grow,The harvest is your own.
Duncan
My plenteous joys,Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselvesIn drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes,And you whose places are the nearest, knowWe will establish our estate uponOur eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafterThe Prince of Cumberland; which honour mustNot unaccompanied invest him only,But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shineOn all deservers. From hence to Inverness,And bind us further to you.
Macbeth
The rest is labour, which is not used for you:I’ll be myself the harbinger and make joyfulThe 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 stepOn 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.