MACBETH.
Till then, enough.—Come, friends.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE IV. Forres. A Room in the Palace.
Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox and Attendants.
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.
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 deserv’d;
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’ 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.