Macbeth: Act 1, Scene 3
Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
1Where hast thou been, sister?
3Sister, where thou?
4A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
5And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd. "Give me!" quoth I:
6"Aroint thee, witch!" the rump-fed ronyon cries.
7Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:
8But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
9And, like a rat without a tail,
10I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.
11I'll give thee a wind.
13And I another.
14I myself have all the other,
15And the very ports they blow,
16All the quarters that they know
17I' the shipman's card.
18I will drain him dry as hay:
19Sleep shall neither night nor day
20Hang upon his penthouse lid;
21He shall live a man forbid:
22Weary se'nnights nine times nine
23Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:
24Though his bark cannot be lost,
25Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd.
26Look what I have.
27Show me, show me.
28Here I have a pilot's thumb,
29Wreck'd as homeward he did come.
30A drum, a drum!
31Macbeth doth come.
32The weird sisters, hand in hand,
33Posters of the sea and land,
34Thus do go about, about:
35Thrice to thine and thrice to mine
36And thrice again, to make up nine.
37Peace! the charm's wound up.
Enter MACBETH and BANQUO.
38So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
39How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these
40So wither'd and so wild in their attire,
41That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
42And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught
43That man may question? You seem to understand me,
44By each at once her choppy finger laying
45Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,
46And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
47That you are so.
Speak, if you can: what are you?
48All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!
49All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!
50All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter!
51Good sir, why do you start, and seem to fear
52Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth,
53Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
54Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
55You greet with present grace and great prediction
56Of noble having and of royal hope,
57That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not.
58If you can look into the seeds of time,
59And say which grain will grow and which will not,
60Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
61Your favours nor your hate.
65Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
66Not so happy, yet much happier.
67Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:
68So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
69Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
70Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
71By Sinel's death I know I am Thane of Glamis;
72But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives,
73A prosperous gentleman; and to be king
74Stands not within the prospect of belief,
75No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
76You owe this strange intelligence, or why
77Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
78With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.
79The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
80And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?
81Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted
82As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!
83Were such things here as we do speak about?
84Or have we eaten on the insane root
85That takes the reason prisoner?
86Your children shall be kings.
You shall be king.
87And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?
88To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here?
Enter ROSS and ANGUS.
89The King hath happily received, Macbeth,
90The news of thy success; and when he reads
91Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
92His wonders and his praises do contend
93Which should be thine or his. Silenced with that,
94In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day,
95He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
96Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
97Strange images of death. As thick as tale
98Came post with post; and every one did bear
99Thy praises in his kingdom's great defense,
100And pour'd them down before him.
We are sent
101To give thee from our royal master thanks;
102Only to herald thee into his sight,
103Not pay thee.
104And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
105He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:
106In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
107For it is thine.
What, can the devil speak true?
108The Thane of Cawdor lives; why do you dress me
109In borrow'd robes?
Who was the thane lives yet;
110But under heavy judgment bears that life
111Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined
112With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
113With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
114He labor'd in his country's wrack, I know not;
115But treasons capital, confess'd and proved,
116Have overthrown him.
Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor!
117The greatest is behind.
[To ROSS and ANGUS.]
Thanks for your pains.
[Aside to BANQUO.]
118Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
119When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me
120Promised no less to them?
That trusted home
121Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
122Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange;
123And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
124The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
125Win us with honest trifles, to betray's
126In deepest consequence.
[To ROSS and ANGUS.]
127Cousins, a word, I pray you.
Two truths are told,
128As happy prologues to the swelling act
129Of the imperial theme.
I thank you, gentlemen.
130This supernatural soliciting
131Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,
132Why hath it given me earnest of success,
133Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor.
134If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
135Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
136And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
137Against the use of nature? Present fears
138Are less than horrible imaginings:
139My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
140Shakes so my single state of man that function
141Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
142But what is not.
Look, how our partner's rapt.
143If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
144Without my stir.
New honors come upon him,
145Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
146But with the aid of use.
Come what come may,
147Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
148Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
149Give me your favor: my dull brain was wrought
150With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
151Are register'd where every day I turn
152The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.
[Aside to Banquo.]
153Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time,
154The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
155Our free hearts each to other.
156Till then, enough. Come, friends.