BANQUO.
You shall be king.
MACBETH.
And Thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?
BANQUO.
To the selfsame tune and words. Who’s here?
Enter Ross and Angus.
ROSS.
The King hath happily receiv’d, Macbeth,
The news of thy success, and when he reads
Thy personal 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 rest o’ th’ selfsame day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as tale
Came post with post; and everyone did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom’s great defence,
And pour’d them down before him.
ANGUS.
We are sent
To give thee from our royal master thanks;
Only to herald thee into his sight,
Not pay thee.
ROSS.
And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:
In which addition, hail, most worthy thane,
For it is thine.
BANQUO.
What, can the devil speak true?
MACBETH.
The Thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
In borrow’d robes?
ANGUS.
Who was the Thane lives yet,
But under heavy judgement bears that life
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combin’d
With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
He labour’d in his country’s wrack, I know not;
But treasons capital, confess’d and prov’d,
Have overthrown him.