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Banquo

Ross

Angus

Ross

Banquo

Macbeth

Angus

Macbeth

Banquo

[Banquo joins Ross and Angus; Macbeth speaks to himself]

Macbeth

                                                        [Aside] Two truths are told
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme. [To Ross and Angus] I thank you, gentlemen.
[Aside] This supernatural soliciting
Cannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
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
Are less than horrible imaginings.
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smothered in surmise — and nothing is,
But what is not.

Claudius

Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage, 
For we will fetters put upon this fear    
Which now goes too free-footed.

Both

                                                     We will haste us.

Laertes

For nature crescent does not grow alone
In thews and bulk, but as this temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,  
And now no soil nor cautel does besmirch
The virtue of his will. But you must fear,
His greatness weighed, his will is not his own
For he himself is subject to his birth.

Laertes

Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,  
And now no soil nor cautel does besmirch
The virtue of his will. But you must fear,
His greatness weighed, his will is not his own
For he himself is subject to his birth.
He may not, as unvalued persons do, 
Carve for himself, for on his choice depends
The sanctity and health of this whole state; 
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
Unto the voice and yielding of that body
Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, 

Laertes

Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain, 
If with too credent ear you list his songs,
Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
To his unmastered importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, 
And keep you in the rear of your affection,

Laertes

And in the morn and liquid dew of youth,
Contagious blastments are most imminent. 
Be wary then, best safety lies in fear; 
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. 

Ophelia

I shall the effect of this good lesson keep
As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
Do not — as some ungracious pastors do —
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,
Whilst, like a puffed and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own rede. 

Laertes

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