Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Mal. As one that had beene studied in his death,
Mal. To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,
Mal. As 'twere a carelesse Trifle.
King. King.
King. There's no Art,
King. To finde the Mindes construction in the Face:
King. He was a Gentleman, on whom I built
King. An absolute Trust.
King. Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.
King. O worthyest Cousin,
King. The sinne of my Ingratitude euen now
King. Was heauie on me. Thou art so farre before,
King. That swiftest Wing of Recompence is slow,
King. To ouertake thee. Would thou hadst lesse deseru'd,
King. That the proportion both of thanks, and payment,
King. Might haue beene mine: onely I haue left to say,
King. More is thy due, then more then all can pay.
Macb. Macb.
Macb. The seruice, and the loyaltie I owe,
Macb. In doing it, payes it selfe.