Scene III

[A health.]

Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches.

FIRST WITCH:

Where hast thou been, sister?(10)

FIRST WITCH:

Where have you been, sister?

SECOND WITCH:

Killing swine.

SECOND WITCH:

Killing pigs.

THIRD WITCH:

Sister, where thou?

THIRD WITCH:

Sister, where were you?

FIRST WITCH:

A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd.
“Give me,” quoth I.(15)
“Aroint thee, witch!” the rump-fed ronyon cries.
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o’ the Tiger;
But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
And, like a rat without a tail,
I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.(20)

FIRST WITCH:

A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
And munched, and munched, and munched. "Give me," said I.
"Begone, witch!" the fat, sloppy woman cries.
Her husband has gone to see Aleppo, master of the Tiger.
Only I’ll sail there in a sieve,
And, like a rat without a tail,
I'll do harm, I'll do harm, and I'll do harm.

SECOND WITCH:

I'll give thee a wind.

SECOND WITCH:

I'll give you a wind for your sail.

FIRST WITCH:

Thou'rt kind.

FIRST WITCH:

You are kind.

THIRD WITCH:

And I another.

THIRD WITCH:

And I will give you another one.

FIRST WITCH:

I myself have all the other,
And the very ports they blow,(25)
All the quarters that they know
I’ the shipman's card.
I will drain him dry as hay:
Sleep shall neither night nor day
Hang upon his penthouse lid;(30)
He shall live a man forbid.
Weary se'nnights nine times nine
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine;
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-tost.(35)
Look what I have.

FIRST WITCH:

I myself have all the other winds.
And they blow at all the ports.
They know all the quarters
On a sailor’s compass.
I will drain him as dry as hay.
Sleep will not hang night or day
On the roof of his house;
He shall live like a man under a curse.
Worn out with fatigue for a week, and very cross,
He will waste away, droop in health and spirit .
Though his ship will not be lost,
It will be tossed about on the rough ocean.
Look what I have.

SECOND WITCH:

Show me, show me.

SECOND WITCH:

Show me, show me.

FIRST WITCH:

Here I have a pilot's thumb,
Wreck'd as homeward he did come. Drum within.

FIRST WITCH:

I have a sea captain’s thumb here, Whose ship was wrecked as he was coming home.

THIRD WITCH:

A drum, a drum!(40)
Macbeth doth come.

THIRD WITCH:

A drum, a drum! Macbeth does come.

ALL:

The weird sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land,
Thus do go about, about:
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,(45)
And thrice again, to make up nine.
Peace! The charm's wound up.

ALL:

The three witches, hand in hand,
Messengers of the events on the sea and land,
In this way are scheming, scheming.
Three times to you, and three times to me,
And three times again, to make up nine.
Quiet! The charm’s going to bring things to a head.

Enter Macbeth and Banquo.

MACBETH:

So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

MACBETH:

I have never seen a day that is so disgustingly filthy and beautiful.

BANQUO:

How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire,(50)
That look not like the inhabitants o’ the earth,
And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught
That man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips. You should be women,(55)
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.

BANQUO:

How far is it to the town of Forres? What are these things
With shrunken skin and wild clothes,
That don’t look not like they live on earth,
Only are still on it? Are you alive? Or are you any thing
That man may question? You seem to understand me,
Since you each are laying a scrawny finger
Upon your skinny lips. You should be women,
Only since you have beards, I can’t say
That you are women.

MACBETH:

Speak, if you can. What are you?

MACBETH:

Speak, if you can; what are you?

FIRST WITCH:

All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!

FIRST WITCH:

All hail, Macbeth! Hail to you, Baron of Glamis!

SECOND WITCH:

All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of(60)
Cawdor!

SECOND WITCH:

All hail, Macbeth! Hail to you, Baron of Cawdor!

THIRD WITCH:

All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter!

THIRD WITCH:

All hail, Macbeth! That shall be king hereafter!

BANQUO:

Good sir, why do you start, and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair? I’ the name of truth,
Are ye fantastical or that indeed(65)
Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with present grace and great prediction
Of noble having and of royal hope,
That he seems rapt withal. To me you speak not.
If you can look into the seeds of time,(70)
And say which grain will grow and which will not,
Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
Your favors nor your hate.

BANQUO:

Good sir, why are you startled, and seem afraid of
Things that sound so beautiful? In the name of truth,
Are you fantastic beings or indeed what
You look like? You greet my noble partner
With current grace and great predictions
Of having nobility and of the hope to be king,
that he seems carried away as well. Only you don’t speak to me.
If you can look into the future,
And say what will happen, and what will not,
Then speak to me, who doesn’t beg or is afraid of
Your favors or your hateful spells.

FIRST WITCH:

Hail!

FIRST WITCH:

Hail!

SECOND WITCH:

Hail!

SECOND WITCH:

Hail!

THIRD WITCH:

Hail!(75)

THIRD WITCH:

Hail!

FIRST WITCH:

Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.

FIRST WITCH:

You will be less than Macbeth, and much greater.

SECOND WITCH:

Not so happy, yet much happier.

SECOND WITCH:

Not as happy as Macbeth, only still much happier.

THIRD WITCH:

Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none.
So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!(80)

THIRD WITCH:

Your sons will be kings, even though you will not be king.
So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!

FIRST WITCH:

Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!

FIRST WITCH:

Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!

MACBETH:

Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more.
By Sinel's death I know I am Thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives,
A prosperous gentleman; and to be King(85)
Stands not within the prospect of belief,
No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this strange intelligence, or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.(90)

MACBETH:

Wait, you incomplete speakers, tell me more.
By inheritance, I know I am Baron of Glamis;
Only how am I Baron of Cawdor? The Baron of Cawdor lives,
A prosperous gentleman; and for me to be king
Is beyond belief,
No more than to be Baron of Cawdor. Tell me
How you know these strange things? or why
You interrupt our journey on this blasted heath
With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I command you.

[Witches vanish.]

BANQUO:

The earth hath bubbles as the water has,
And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?

BANQUO:

The earth has bubbles, as boiling water has,
And these spirits are like that. Where did they vanished to?

MACBETH:

Into the air, and what seem'd corporal melted
As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!

MACBETH:

Into the air; and what seemed solid melted
Like breath into the wind. I wish they had stayed!

BANQUO:

Were such things here as we do speak about?(95)
Or have we eaten on the insane root
That takes the reason prisoner?

BANQUO:

Are you sure we’re talking about what we’ve seen here?
Or have we eaten some plant root
That makes us hallucinate?

MACBETH:

Your children shall be kings.

MACBETH:

Your children shall be kings.

BANQUO:

You shall be King.

BANQUO:

You shall be king.

MACBETH:

And Thane of Cawdor too. Went it not so?(100)

MACBETH:

And Baron of Cawdor too; isn’t that what they said?

BANQUO:

To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here?

BANQUO:

Yes, in just those words. Who's here?

[Enter Ross and Angus.]

ROSS:

The King hath happily received, Macbeth,
The news of thy success; and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels’ fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend(105)
Which should be thine or his. Silenced with that,
In viewing o'er the rest o’ the selfsame day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as hail(110)
Came post with post, and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defense,
And pour'd them down before him.

ROSS:

Macbeth, the king has happily received
The news of your success. And when he heard about
Your personal venture into the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises don’t fight over
What should be yours or his. Silenced with that story,
And reviewing all the events of the day,
He found you in the stout Norwegian’s ranks,
Not afraid of what you did or the
Strange images of death.
The reports came in As thick as hail and every one of them sang
Your praises in your great defense of the kingdom,
And poured such praises down before the King.

ANGUS:

We are sent
To give thee, from our royal master, thanks;(115)
Only to herald thee into his sight,
Not pay thee.

ANGUS:

We are sent from our royal master,
To give you thanks;
Only to bring you, announced, into his sight,
Not just pay you for your brave deeds.

ROSS:

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,(120)
For it is thine.

ROSS:

And, for as the first installment of a greater honor,
He ordered me, from him, to call you Baron of Cawdor.
I was also ordered to add, hail, most worthy baron,
For the title of Baron of Cawdor is yours.

BANQUO:

What, can the devil speak true?

BANQUO:

What, can the devil speak the truth?

MACBETH:

The Thane of Cawdor lives. Why do you dress me
In borrow'd robes?

MACBETH:

The Baron of Cawdor lives. Why do you address me
By his name?

ANGUS:

Who was the Thane lives yet,(125)
But under heavy judgement bears that life
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined
With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
He labor'd in his country's wreck, I know not;(130)
But treasons capital, confess'd and proved,
Have overthrown him.

ANGUS:

The man who was the Baron still lives,
Only lives that life which he deserves to lose
Under the death penalty. I don’t know whether he combined
Forces with those of Norway, or aided the rebel
With hidden help and supplies, or that with both
He labored to overthrow his country's government,
Only his treasons, punishable by death, confessed and proven,
have caused his downfall.

MACBETH:

[Aside.] Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor!
The greatest is behind. [To Ross and Angus.]
Thanks for your pains. [Aside to Banquo.](135)
Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me
Promised no less to them?

MACBETH:

[Aside.] Glamis, and Baron of Cawdor.
The greatest hurdle is behind me. Thanks for your pains.
Don’t you hope your children shall be kings,
When those things that gave the Baron of Cawdor to me
Promised no less to your children?

BANQUO:

[Aside to Macbeth.] That, trusted home,
Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,(140)
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—(145)
Cousins, a word, I pray you.

BANQUO:

That, my best friend,
Might still inflame you with passion for the crown,
In addition to the title of the Baron of Cawdor.
Only it ‘s strange. And often the instruments of darkness
Tell us truths to win us over and so harm ourselves,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray his purposes
Of most serious results.
Cousins, a word, I beg 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(150)
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(155)
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings:
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function(160)
Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
But what is not.

MACBETH:

[Aside.] Those creatures told two truths
As happy prologues to my ascending
The throne. I thank you, gentlemen.
[Aside.] This supernatural meeting
Can’t be bad, only it can’t be good either. If it’s bad,
Why has it given me promise of success,
That began with a truth? I am Baron of Cawdor.
If it’s good, why do I give in to that suggestion
Whose horrid image makes my hair stand on end,
And makes my heart pound so hard they knock at my ribs,
Against my will to stay calm? My current fears
Are less than horrible imaginings.
My thought, whose murder is still only a fantastic idea,
So shakes my manhood, that functioning like a man
Is smothered in unfounded allegations; and nothing is
Only what is not.