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,
Implor’d 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 ow’d
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.
DUNCAN
O worthiest cousin!
The sin of my ingratitude even now
Was heavy on me. art so far before,
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
To overtake . Would hadst less deserv’d;
That the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
More is due than more than all can pay.
MACBETH
The service and the loyalty I owe,
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 honour.
DUNCAN
Welcome :
I have begun to plant , and will labour
To make full of growing.—Noble Banquo,
That no less deserv’d, nor must be known
No less to have done so, let me infold
And hold to my heart.
BANQUO
There if I grow,
The harvest is your own.
DUNCAN
My plenteous joys,
Wanton in fulness, 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 honour must
Not unaccompanied invest him only,
But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
On all deservers.—From to Inverness,
And bind us further to you.
MACBETH
The rest is labour, which is not us’d 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
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.
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.