When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning or in rain? When the hurly-burly's done, when the battle's lost and won. Where are the plays? Upon the battlefield, there to meet with Macbeth.
Fair is foul, and foul is fair, over through the fog and filthy air. It stood as two spent swimmers that do cling together and choke their heart The merciless Macdonald from the western isles of Cairns and Gallo-glasses is supplied. And fortune on his damned quarrel smiling, shored like a rebel's whore.
But all too weak for brave Macbeth. Well, he deserves that name. The staining fortune with his brandished stew. Which smoked with bloody execution like Valor's minion carved out his past.
so he faced the slave, which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, till he unseamed him from the nave to the chops, and fixed his head upon our battlements. And to conclude, victory fell on us. Valiant Macbeth.
Worthy gentleman, great happiness. Whence cam'st thou, noble prince? From Fife, great king. Where Norwegian banners flout the sky and fan our people cold.
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor. The thane of Cawdor. God save the king.
No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive our bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death, and with his former title greet Macbeth. I'll see it done.
What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. So foul and fair today I've not seen. What are these? Live you or are you, that man may question.
Speak if you can, what are you? Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Glamis. Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor.
All hail Macbeth, that shall be king hereafter. Good sir. Why do you start and seem to fear things that do sound so fair?
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. Hail, lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
Not so happy, yet much happier. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none. So all hail Macbeth and Banquo. Banquo and Macbeth all hail. Stay.
You imperfect speakers. Tell me more. Say from whence you owe this strange intelligence? And why upon this blasted heap do you stop our way with such prophetic greeting? Speak, or I charge you.
The earth hath bubbles as the water has, and these are of them. Whither are they vanished? Into the air. And washing corporal melted his breath into the wind. Where the air had stayed.
Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten an insane root? Takes the reason, prisoner.
Your children shall be kings. You shall be king. And then of God or two, when do not so? To the selfsame tune and words. King hath hardly received Macbeth, the news of thy success.
His thickest hail came post from post, and every one did bear thy praises in his kingdom's great defence, and poured them down before him. I must send to give thee from our royal master thanks. For an earnest of a greater honor, he bade me from him call thee Thane of Cawdor. Thane of Cawdor lives. Why do you dress me in borrowed robes?
Thracian's capital confessed and proved I've overthrown him. Do you not hope your children shall be kings? When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me promise no less to them? That trusted home might yet enkindle you unto the crown besides the thane of Cawdor.
But it's strange, and oftentimes, to win us to our harm, instruments of darkness tell us truths. Win us with honest trifles, to betray his deepest consequence. This supernatural soliciting 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 and make my seated heart knock at my ribs against the use of nature?
Present fears are less than horrible imaginings. If chance will have me king... My chance may crown me without my star. Hail Macbeth. Hath this, cousin?
More is thy due than more than all can pay. The service and the loyalty I owe in doing it pays itself. From hence to Inverness and bind us further to you.
I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful the hearing of my wife with your approach. So humbly take my leave. By worthy God, thou.
They met me in the day of success. And I have learned by the perfect's report They have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished.
Whilst I stood wrapped in the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who all hailed me, Faein of Cawdor, by which title before these weird sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of time with... Hail King the Chaldean. Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts.
Adsex me here, and fell me from the crown to the toe, top full of direst cruelty. Come to my woman's breast. And take my milk for all you murdering ministers, wherever in your sightless substances you wait on nature's mischief. Come, thick night, and pour thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, that my keen knives see not the wound it makes, nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark to cry, Hold!
Hold! I be hither that I may pour my spirits in thine ear, and chastise with the valour of my tongue all that impedes thee from the golden round. I My letters have transported me beyond this ignorant present.
And I feel now the future in the instant. My dearest love, Duncan comes here tonight. And what goes hence?
Tomorrow, as he purposes. I will never shall send that morrow, see. Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be what thou art promised.
Yet I do fear thy nature. It is too full of the milk of human kindness to catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great. Art not without ambition, but without the illness should attend it.
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 it.
He that's coming must be provided for, and you shall put this night's great business into my dispatch. We shall to all our nights and days to come. Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. I will speak further.
All our service in every point twice done, and then done double. Give me your hand. Conduct me to mine host. We love him highly and shall continue our graces towards him. By your leave, hostess.
Chakri, Chakri, Swam Chakri, Vam Chakri, Vam Chakri. My plenteous... Ah!
Ah! My plenteous joys wanton and fullness seek to hide themselves in drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, fiends, And you whose places are the nearest, know that we will establish our estate upon our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter the Prince of Cumberland.
The Prince of Cumberland. That is a step on which I must fall down or else o'erleap, for in my way it lies. If it were done, and is done, then too well it were done quickly. If the assassination could trammel up the consequence and catch with his surcease success.
That but this blow might be the be-all and end-all here. But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, we jump the life to come. But in these cases, we still have judgment here.
That we but teach bloody instructions, which being taught, return to plague the inventor. This even-handed justice commends the ingredients of our poison chalice to our own lips. He's here in double trust.
First as I am his kinsman and his subject, strong both against the deed, then as his host, who should against his murderers shut the door and not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been so clear in his great office that his virtues would plead like angels trumpet-tongued against the deep damnation of his taking off. I have no spirit to prick the sides of my intent but only vaulting ambition which sure leaps itself and falls on the other. I'll proceed no further in this business. Was the hope drunk, wherein you dressed yourself?
Have it slept since? And wakes it now to look so green and pale at what it did so freely? From this time, such I account thy love.
Art thou feared to be the same in thine own act and valour as thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that which thou esteem'st, the ornament of life, and live a coward in thine own esteem, letting I dare not wait upon thy word? Cleary peace.
I dare do all that may become a man. You dare do more as none. What beast was then that made you break this enterprise to me?
When you doest do it, then you are a man. And to be more than what you were, you would be so much more than one. I have given, Zack. And know how tender it is to love the babe that milks me.
I would, while it was smiling in my face, have plucked my nibble from his boneless gums and dashed the brains out had I so sworn, as you have done to this. If we should fail. We fame has screwed your courage to this digging place and will not fail.
When Dagon is asleep, his two chamberlains will I with wine and war sails so convince that memory, the warder of the brain, shall be fume, and the receipt of reason a limb-back only. When in swineish sleep their trenched natures lies as in a death, what can you and I perform upon the unguarded Duncan? What not put upon his punchy offices shall bear the guilt of our great quill. I am settled.
Then bend a beach-court plage into this terrible fiend. Take my sword. Take thee that, too. A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, and yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers.
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature gives way to in repose. Is this a dagger which I see before me? The handle toward my hand. Come, let me clutch thee. Art thou not fatal vision, sensible to feeling as to sight?
Are thou but a dagger of the mind? A false creation, proceeding from the heat-depressed brain. Thou marshals me the way that I was going, and such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools of the other senses, or else worth all the rest. I see thee still. There's no such thing.
Just a bloody business which informs us to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world, nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse the curtain's sleep. Witchcraft celebrates, and withered murder moves like a ghost. I see thee yet. And form as palpable as this which now I draw.
As I thread he lives, March to the heat of deeds, Too cold breath gives. The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood is stopped. The very source of it is stopped.
Here lies Duncan, his silver skin laced with his golden blood. There, the murderers, steeped in the colors of their trade. That I but died. An hour before this chance. I had lived a blessed time.
But from this instant, there's nothing serious in mortality. All is but toys. Renown and grace is dead. The line of life is drawn. An emir leaves, has left this vault to brag of.
With you. Or are you, what that man may question? I have done the deed.
Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there. What hands are here? They pluck out mine eyes. Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand?
No, this my hand. Or rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine. Making the green one red. My hands are of your colour, but I shame to wear a heart so white. A little water clears us of this deed.
How easy is it then? To know my deed. To a best aunt know myself.
Good, Macduff? Good morrow, noble sir. Morrow of both.
Is the king studying what he's saying? The king is he studying? Not yet.
He did command me to call timely on him. I've almost slipped the hour. Bring it to him. I'll make so bold to call.
Goes the king hence today. He does, he did appoint so. The night has been unruly.
Where we lay our temples were blown down. And as they say... Lamentings heard in the ear. Strange screams of death. It was a rough night.
Confusion now you have. Me this masterpiece. Most sacrilegious matter have broke open the Lord's anointed temple and stole thence the life of the building The life? Mean you his majesty?
Bid me not speak You see Speak yourselves Awake! Awake! Welcome!
Welcome! Bankro! Link in your lungs! Bankro! You shake off your downy sleep, man!
Death's going to fit. You come and look on death itself. Huh? Murder!
He's done! What's the business? Our royal master......is murdered! Murdered? MURDERED!
Those of his chamber......their hands were all badged with blood. Wherefore did you sow? Hm?
Who could refrain that had a heart to love, and in that heart courage to make love known? How it does grieve Macbeth, Did he not straight and pious rage The two delinquents dare? That while the slaves have drink, Was this not nobly done? Aye.
Prince would have angered any heart alive to hear the men deny it. I say he has borne all things well. Is known who did this more than bloody did?
Those that Macbeth had slain. Alas the day. What good could they pretend?
Malcolm, the king's son, is stolen away and fled. Which puts upon him suspicion of the deed. Well, then, tis most likely the Sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.
He is already named. Thou hast it now. King, Calder, Glamis, all as the weird women promised.
And I fear thou playedst most foully for it. Yet it was said it should not stand in thy posterity. That myself should be the root and father of many kings, if there come truth from them.
Why, by the verities on thee, may good, may they not be my other causes'will. Set me up in hope. Rush. No more. Hail the president!
Hail the president! Hail the president! To be thus is nothing but to be safely thus.
Our fears in Bangkok stick deep, and in his royalty of nature reigns that which would be feared. Tis much he dares into that dauntless temper of his mind. He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour. How now, my lord?
Why do you keep alone? We have scorched the snake, not killed it. She'll close. Be ourself, lest our poor malice remains in danger of her former tooth.
Things without all remedy should be without regard. What's done is done. Come, gentle my lord. Sleeko, will you rugged looks? Be bright and jovial among your guests tonight.
Thou know'st that Biko and his Fleance lives. You must leave this. He chid the sisters, and first they put the name of king upon me, and bade them speak to him. Then, prophet-like, they hailed him father to a line of kings upon my head. They placed a fruitless crown, and put a barren sceptre in my grip, thence to be wrenched with an unmaneal hand.
O son of mine succeeding, if it be so, for Banquo's issue have I filed my mind. For them. The gracious Duncan have I murdered for rankers in the vessel of my peace only for them to make them kings the seed of Banquo kings What's to be done?
Be innocent of the knowledge dearest child Till thou applaud the deed. How full of scorpions is my mind. How marvelous sent my words. Hold these down. Things may be gone.
Make themselves strong by hell. Come, sailing night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel, And tear to pieces that grey bond which keeps me pale. Get him!
Tonight we hold a solemn supper, sir. We request your presence. Let your highness command upon me to do which my duties are with the most indissoluble tie. Forever, Ned.
Ride you this afternoon? Aye, my good lord. We should have else desired your good advice in this day's council.
But we'll take tomorrow. Is to far your ride? As far, my lord, as will fill up the time to exist in Sutlep. Go not my house, the better.
I feel not our feast. My lord, I will not. We hear our bloody cousin is bestowed in England.
Not confessing his cruel parasite, filling his hearers with strange invention. We'll have that tomorrow. I'll get the horse.
Adieu. Tell your return at night. Goes fleance with you.
Aye, my good lord, our time does call upon us. Farewell. Within this hour at most, I will advise you where to plant yourselves.
Acquaint you with the perfect spy, the time, the moment, don't. For it must be done tonight. And something from the palace always thought that I require a clearness.
And with him, to leave no rubs nor botches in the work. Fleance, his son, that keeps him company, whose absence is no less material to me than is his father's, must embrace the fate of that dark hour. Go!
Fly! Fly! Five, four, three, two, one.
You know your own degrees. Sit down. First and last, the hearty welcome. Our hostess keeps her state. But in best time we will require her welcome.
Pronounce it for me, sir. To all our friends. My heart speaks.
They are welcome. Your Majesty! Be large and marth the nod. We'll drink a measure of the table round.
There's blood upon my face. Tezbank was then. Is he despatched?
My lord, his throat is cut. Yet he's good that did the like for Fleance, if thou didst that thou art the non-pariah. Most royal, sir.
Fleance escaped. Then comes my fit again. I had else been perfect. Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, as broad and general as the chasing air!
But now I'm carbon-gripped, conformed and abound into saucy doubts and fears! My royal lord, you do not give the cheer. Thanks for that.
Sweet remembrance, sir. Now. Good digestion, weight on appetite, and health on both. Here, had we now our countries on a roof, were the graced person of our Banco present. Who may I rather challenge for unkindness than pity for mischance?
His absence, sir, lays blame upon his promise. What is that moves your highness? Which of you have done this? What my good lord? Thou canst not say that I did it!
His highness is not well. Sit, worthy friends. Pray you keep seat. The fit is momentary. Upon a thought he will again be well.
If much you note him, you shall offend him, and extend his passion. Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man? Aye. And a bold one, there dear.
Look on that which might appal the devil. Oh, prep a step. Pretty.
See there? Behold. Look, Lo, how say you? This is the very painting of your fear.
This is the air-drawn dagger which you said led you to Duncan. Why do you make such faces? If I stand here, I saw him.
My worthy lord, your noble friends do lack you. Blood hath been shed here now, in the olden time. The time has been that when the brains were out, the man would die. They are an end, but now they rise again and push us from our stools.
This is more strange than such a murder is. Why do I forget? Come, love and health to all. Our duties are not at risk!
And quit my sight. Let the earth hide thee. Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold. Thou hast no speculation in those eyes which thou dost glare with!
Think of these good peers. But as a thing of custom, tis no other. I pray you, sit still! Make me strange. Even to the disposition that I owe.
And now I think you can behold such sights. And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks when mine is blanched with fear. What sights, my lord? I pray you speak not!
He grows worse and worse. Question enrages him. Stand not upon the order of your going, but go at once. Good night, Dundas.
Better health attend his majesty. Kind good night to all. It will have blood.
They say blood will have blood. What is the night? All must at odds with morning, which is which. How say'st thou that Macduff denies his person a tower of great pity?
You lack the season of all natures. Sleep. I will to the weird testers. More shall they speak.
For now I am bent to know by the worst means the worst. For mine own good all causes shall give way. I am in blood stepped in so far that should I wait no more. Returning where as tedious as go over Strange things I have in head that will turn Which must be acted here they may be scanned I conjure you by that which you profess, however you come to know it. Answer me.
Speak. I charge you. Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are.
Macbeth shall never vanquished be, until great Burnham Wood, to hide on Sinane Hill, shall come against him. Beware Macduff, beware the Fane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.
Beware Macduff, beware the Fane of Fife. Be bloody, bold, and resolute. Laugh to scorn the power of man For none a woman born Shall harm Macbeth And live Macduff, what need I fear thee?
Yea, I'll make assurance double sure, and take a bond of faith thou shalt not live. Saw you the weird sisters? No my lord. Came they not by you?
No, indeed my lord. Infected with the air whereon they ride, and damned all those that trust them. Woo! Who has came by? Tis two or three, my lord.
I'll bring you word Macduff has fled to England. Fled to England? Aye, my good lord. A flighty purpose never is overtook unless the deed go with it.
In this moment the very firstlings of my heart shall be the firstlings of my hand, be it thought and done. Hell is my game. What's done can be undone.
Stir the country round. Hang those that talk of fear. Castle Macduff, I will surprise.
Seize upon five, give to the edge of the sword his wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls that trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool. This deed I'll do before this purpose cool.
No! No! No!
No! I need it! No!
Bring me no more reports! Let them fly off! Till Burnham Wood, removed to Dunsinane, I cannot take with fear. What's the boy, Malcolm? Was he not born of woman?
The spirits that know all mortal consequence have pronounced me thus. Fear not, Macbeth. No man that's born of woman shall e'er have power upon thee. Then fly, false Thanes, and mingle with the English epicures! Why are you silent?
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, was once thought honest. Now is the time of help. You and I, in Scotland, create soldiers, make our women fight to doth their dire distresses.
Create their comfort, we are coming thither. I have words that would be howled in the desert air. Where hearing should not latch them. My ever gentle cousin Stands Scotland where it did.
At last, poor country Is almost afraid to know itself. Cannot be called our mother, but our graves. What's our newest grief? Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, which shall possess them with the heaviest sound that ever yet they heard. How does my wife?
Your castle is surprised. Your wife and babes savagely slaughtered. What man?
What man? My children do. Wife. Children. Servants.
All that could be found. He has no children! All my pretty chickens and their dam in one fell swoop.
Dispute at my command. Oh, I will do so. But I will also feel it as a man.
Sinful Macduff. They're all struck for thee. Be this the whetstone of your sword.
Let grief convert to anger. Blunt not the heart, enrage it. Gracious England hath lent us ten thousand men. Our power is ready.
Her lack is nothing but her leave. Front to front, you bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself, and within my sword length. Set him! If he's escaped, heaven forgive him too. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies.
Some say he's mad. Others lesser that hate him do call it valiant fury. But for certain, he cannot buckle his distempered cause within the belt of rule.
Those he commands, move only in command. Nothing in love. Now does he feel......a secret murder sticking on his hands? Yet here's a spot. Out, damned spot.
Out, I say. Hell is murky. I, my lord, five soldier and afeard.
What need we fear? Who knows it? When none can call our power to account.
Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is she now?
What? Will these hands ne'er be clean? No more of that, my lord, no more of that.
You are all with this starting. Here's the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hat.
Wash your hands. Put on your nightgown. Look not so pale.
To bed. To bed. There's knocking at the gate.
Come! What's done cannot be undone. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon. Where I got sound that goose-look?
There's ten thousand. Geese, villain? Soldiers. Sir.
Go prick thy face and over-red thy fear, thou lily-livered boy. What soldier's patch? English force.
So please you. Hang out our banners on the outward walls. The cry is still, they come. Our castle's strength.
We'll laugh a siege to scorn. Here, let them lie. Till famine and the Egu eat them up.
Doctor, veins fly from me. Orubarb, Siam, or what percative drug would scour these English heads? Hears thou of them?
I'm a good lord. Your royal preparation makes us hear something. If thou couldst, Doctor. Cast the water of my land, find her disease, and purge it to sound and pristine health. I would applaud thee to the very echo that should applaud again.
Queen, my lord, is dead. She should have died hereafter. There would have been a time for such a word. And tomorrow...
And tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle. Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then has heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury. Signifying nothing. What is that noise? It is the cry of women, my good lord. I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been. My senses would have cooled to hear a night shriek. And my fellow here, would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were end.
I have supped full, with horrors direness familiar to my slaughterous thoughts cannot once start me. Thy story quickly. Gracious my lord, I should report that which I say I saw, but know not how to do it.
Satan, I am sick at heart when I behold. Satan I say! Thy smash will cheer me ever or deceit me now I've lived long enough. My way of life has fallen into this here. The Yellow Leaf.
And that which should accompany all the ages Honor, love, obedience, troops or friends I must not look down, but in their stead Curses, not loud, but deep. Mouth on our breath, which the poor heart can fain deny and dare not. Satan.
All is confirmed, my lord, which was reported. I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hacked. Give me my armor.
Just not needed yet. Put it on! And now a wood comes toward Dunsinane.
Ring the alarm bell. Arm. Arm.
And out. Tyrant! Show thy face!
There is no flying hence no tallying here. I gain to be a weary of the sun, and wish the estate of the world were now undone. Blow wind, come, wrack.
At least we'll die with harness on our back. They have tied me to a stake. I cannot fly. But bear-like, I must fight the course.
What's he that was not born of woman? Such a one am I to fear or none. Why should I play the Roman fool and die on mine own sword, whilst I see he lives?
The gashes do better upon them! Tend, hellhound. Tend.
Of all mine elves, I have avoided thee. But get thee back! My soul is too much charged with blood of thine already. Ah, Lord.
My voices and my sword. Thou losest labor! As easy mayst thou the entranched air, With thy keen sword and press, As make me bleed. Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests. I bear a charmed life, which must not yield to one of women born.
Despair thy charm, and let the angel whom thou still hast served tell thee that Duff was from his mother's womb untimely ripped. Of course it'd be the tongue that tells me so. So I teth cover my better part of man. I'll not fight with thee.
Then ye'll be cowed. And live to be the showing gaze of the time. I will have thee, as our error monsters are, painted upon a pole, and under it, Here, may you see the tyrant, Macbeth. I will not yield to kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet and to be baited with the rabble's curse. Though Burnham would become to Dunsinane, now opposed, being of no woman born.
Yet, I will try the last. Before my body, I throw my warlike shield. Lay out, MacDuff, and time be him.
The first cries hold. Enough! He's worth more sorrow, and that I'll spend for him.
He's worth no more. Hail, King of Scotland. Hail!
King of Scotland! Hail, King of Scotland!