MACBETH.
[Aside.] Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behind.--Thanks for your pains.--
Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me
Promis'd no less to them?

BANQUO.
That, trusted home,
Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
And oftentimes to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths;
Win us with honest trifles, to betray's
In deepest consequence.--
Cousins, a word, I pray you.

MACBETH.
[Aside.] Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme.--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