No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest; go pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth.
Speak then to me, who neither beg nor Fear your favors nor your hate.What are these So withered and so wild in their attire.That look not like the inhabitant o' earth.
Speak if you can: What are you?
Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence?Speak, I charge you.
Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't.
Only look up clear; To alter favor ever is to fear; Leave all the rest me
We will speak further
I am so gracious for this hospitality;Thou Macbeth is humble