Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor.
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears 137
Are less than horrible imaginings;
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is 141
But what is not.
Ban. Look, how our partner's rapt.
Macb. [Aside.] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
Without my stir.
Ban. New honours come upon him, 144
Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
But with the aid of use.
Macb. [Aside.] Come what come may,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. 148
Macb. Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought
With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are register'd where every day I turn
The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.
[To Banquo.] Think upon what hath chanc'd; and, at more time, 153
The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
Our free hearts each to other.
134 suggestion: temptation
136 seated: firmly fixed
137 Against the use: contrary to the custom
Present fears; cf. n.
140 single: feeble
state of man: manhood
function: mental power
147 Time and the hour; cf. n.
149 favour: pardon
wrought: perturbed
