Or have we eaten of the infane root,
That takes the Reafon prisoner?

Macb. Your children fhall be Kings.
Ban. You fhall be King.

Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not fo
Ban. To th' felf fame tune, and words; who's here?
Enter Roffe and Angus.

Roffe. The King hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth,
The news of thy fuccefs; and when he reads
Thy perfonal venture in the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine, or his. Silenc'd with That,
In viewing o'er the reft o'th' felf-fame day,
He finds thee in the ftout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afraid of what thy felf didft make,
Strange images of death. As thick as hail,
Came Poft on Poft; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his Kingdom's great defence :
And pour'd them down before him.
Ang. We are fent,

To give thee, from our royal Master, thanks;
Only to herald thee into his fight,

Not pay thee.

Roffe. And for an earneft of a greater honour,
He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawder :
In which Addition, hail, moft worthy Thane !
For it is thine.

Ban. What, can the Devil fpeak true?
Macb. The Thane of Cawdor lives;
Why do you drefs me in his borrow'd robes ?
Ang. Who was the Thane, lives yet;
But under heavy judgment bears that life,
Which he deferves to lofe. Whether he was

and have a Quality of laying to Sleep; or of driving into Madness, if a more than ordinary Quantity of them be taken. This Paffage of Boethius, I dare fay, our Poet had an Eye to: and, Ithink, it fairly accounts for his Mention of the insane Root.

Combin'd

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 treasons 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 shall be Kings?

[To Banquo.

When those 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.

Macb. 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 earneft of fuccefs,
Commencing in a truth? I'm Thane of Cawdor.
If good; why do I yield to that fuggestion,
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 projecting the Murther, 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 lefs than prefent Fears, that they are the fame Things under different Words, Shakespeare certainly wrote;

--prefens

Are lefs than horrible imaginings.

My thought, whofe murther yet is but fantastical,
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!

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

may crown me,

Without my ftir.

Ban. New Honours, come upon him,

[Afide.

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

*Macb. Come what come may,

Time and the hour runs thro' the rougheft day.

Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we ftay upon your leifure. Macb. Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought

With things forgot. Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are regiftred 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 speak
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,

King I

and attendants.

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 Murther, I ball find it much lefs dreadful than my frighted Imagination now presents it to me. A confideration drawn from the Nature of the Imagination.

Mr. Warburton.

Mal.

Mal. 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 confefs'd his treasons;
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 truft.

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Roffe, and Angus.

O worthiest 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 Banque,
Thou haft no lefs deferv'd, and must be known
No less 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, seek to hide themselves

In drops of forrow. Sons, kinfmen, 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.

Macb. 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!

Macb. The Prince of Cumberland!

a step,

that is

On which I must fall down, or elfe o'er-leap, [Afidë.
For in my way it lyes. Stars, hide your fires!
Let not 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.

[Exit.

King. True, worthy Banquo; he is full fo valiant; And in his commendations I am fed;

It is a banquet to me. Let us after him,

Whofe care is gone before to bid us welcome:

It is a peerless Kinsman.

[Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE changes to an Apartment in Macbeth's Caftle, at Inverness.

Enter Lady Macbeth alone, with a letter.

Lady. T

HEY met me in the day of fuccefs; and I have learn'd by the perfecteft report, they bave more in them than mortal knowledge. When 1. burnt in defire to question them further, they made themfelves air, into which they vanish'd. While I flood rapt in the wonder of it, came Miffives from the King, who all hail'd me, Thane of Cawdor; by which title,

before,