Glamis, thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.' Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; And chastise with the valour of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal. But, screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we'll not fail. When you durst do it, then you were a man; And to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would; But we are men; my worthy lord, Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't. He that's coming Must be provided for: and you shall put This night's great business into my dispatch, Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it, then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended. Hark! I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss them. Come, get you gone, And I will put my spirits in your heart, And bring you to the coming of your eye. But I remember now, A foolish thought, to say: still, I am afraid; And, and I fear, I fear, I dare not think, What if thy heart be not as true as thou art? I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which overleaps itself And falls on the other.