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Storyboard Text
- The King hath happily received, Macbeth, The news of thy success.
- We are sent to give thee, our royal master, thanks, Only to herald thee into his sight.
- The thane of Cawdor lives. Why do you dress me in borrow'd robes
- What, can the devil speak true?
- Glamis, and thane of Cawdor! The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains.
- When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me  promised no less to them?
- Who was the thane lives yet, but under heavy judgement bears that live that life which he deserves to live.
- That, trusted home, Might yet enkindle you onto the crown, besides thane of Cawdor
- Two truths are told, as happy prologues to the swelling act of imperial theme
- Look, how our partner's rapt.
- New honors come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
- If chance will have me king, chance may crown me Without my stir.
- Worthy MacBeth, we stay upon your leisure
- Very Gladly.
- give me your favor, my dull brain was wrought with things forgotten.  
- Till then, enough. Come, friends.
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