We are sent To give thee from our royal master thanks, Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee.
And, for an earnest of a greater honor, He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor: In which addition, hail, most worthy thane, For it is thine.
The thane of Cawdor lives. Why do you dress me In borrowed robes?
Who was the thane lives yet, But under heavy judgment bears that life Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined
As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen.
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