Original subtitles

Subtitles by explosiveskull

This is the sergeant,

who like a good and hardy soldier

fought 'gainst my captivity.

You will say to the king

the knowledge of the broil

as thou didst leave it.

Doubtful it stood;

as two spent swimmers

that do cling together and choke their art.

The merciless Macdonwald

from the western isles is supplied;

and fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,

showed like a rebel's whore.

But all's too weak

for brave Macbeth

well he deserves that name,

disdaining fortune, with his brandished steel,

which smoked with bloody execution,

like valor's minion

carved out his passage till he faced the slave;

which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,

till he unseamed him from the nave to the chaps,

and fixed his head upon our battlements.

Mark,

King of Scotland, mark.

Sooner justice had with valor armed

compelled these skipping kerns to trust their heels.

But the Norwegian lord

surveying vantage with new supplies of men

began a fresh assault.

Dismayed not this our captains,

Macbeth and Banquo?

I must report

they were as cannons overcharged with double cracks,

so they doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe.

Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,

or memorize another Golgotha, I cannot tell.

But I am faint,

my gashes cry for help.

Whence camest thou?

From Fife, great king;

where the Norwegian banners flout the sky

and fan our people cold.

Norway himself, with terrible numbers,

assisted by that most disloyal traitor

the Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;

till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapped in proof,

confronted him with self-comparisons,

point against point

rebellious arm 'gainst arm

curbing his lavish spirit.

And, to conclude,

the victory

fell on us.

Great happiness!

No more that Thane of Cawdor

shall deceive our bosom interest.

Go pronounce his present death,

and with his former title greet Macbeth.

So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Well speak, if you can.

All hail, Macbeth!

Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!

All hail, Macbeth!

Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!

All hail, Macbeth,

that shalt be king hereafter!

King.

Good sir, why do you start and seem to fear Things

that sound so fair?

In the name of truth,

are ye fantastical,

or that indeed 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,

and say which grain will grow and which will not,

speak then to me,

who neither

beg nor fear

your favors nor your hate.

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.

I know I'm Thane of Glamis; but how of Cawdor?

The Thane of Cawdor lives, and to be king

stands not within the prospect of belief.

Say from whence you owe this strange intelligence?

Speak, I charge you.

Whither are they vanished?

Into the air,

and what seemed corporal melted as breath into the wind.

Would they had stayed!

Your children shall be kings.

- You shall be king. - Aye.

And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?

To the selfsame tune and words.

Banquo and Macbeth!

All hail.

Banquo and Macbeth.

All hail.

Hail Macbeth, hail Banquo.

The king hath happily received, Macbeth,

the news of thy success.

We are sent to give thee from our royal master thanks.

- Yes. - Only to herald thee

into his sight, not pay thee.

And, for an earnest of a greater honor,

he bade me, from him, call thee

- thane... - Thane of Cawdor.

In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!

For it is thine.

Can the devil speak true?

The Thane of Cawdor lives.

Why do you dress me in borrowed robes?

Who was the thane lives yet.

But under heavy judgment 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 labored in his country's wreck,

I know not.

But treason's capital, confessed and proved,

have overthrown him.

Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor!

The greatest is behind.

Aye, thanks for your pains.

Aye, do you not hope your children shall be kings,

when those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me

promised no less to them?

That trusted home might yet enkindle you unto the crown,

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 betrays in deepest consequence.

Two truths are told,

as happy prologues to the swelling act

of the imperial theme.

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.

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,

shakes so my single state of man

that function is smothered in surmise,

and nothing is

but what is not.

If chance will have me king,

why, chance may crown me without my stir.

Come what come may,

time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

Give me your favor.

My dull brain was wrought with things forgotten.

Let us toward the king.

Think upon what hath chanced,

and, at more time, the interim having weighed it,

let us speak our free hearts each to other.

Very gladly.

Till then, enough.

Come, friend.

Is execution done on Cawdor?

Eery frankly he confessed his treasons,

implored your highness' pardon

and set forth a deep repentance.

Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it;

he died as one that had been studied in his death

to throw away the dearest thing he owed,

as 'twere a careless trifle.

There's no art to find

the mind's construction in the face.

He was a gentleman

on whom I built an absolute trust.

They met me in the day of success.

And I have learned by the perfectest 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.

Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it,

came missives from the king,

who all-hailed me

"Thane of Cawdor."

I'm Thane of Cawdor.

By which title,

before, these weird sisters saluted me,

and referred me to the coming on of time, with

"Hail, king that shalt be!"

This have I thought

good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness,

that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing,

by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee.

Lay it to thy heart,

and farewell.

Glamis thou art,

and Cawdor;

and shalt be

what thou art promised.

O worthiest cousin!

The sin of my ingratitude even now was heavy on me.

Wouldst thou hath less deserved,

that the proportion both of thanks and payment

might have been mine!

Only I have left to say,

more is thy due than more than all

can pay.

The service and the loyalty I owe, in doing it,

pays itself.

Welcome hither.

I have begun to plant thee,

and will labor to make thee full of growing.

Noble Banquo,

that hast no less deserved, nor must be known

no less to have done so,

let me enfold thee and hold thee to my heart.

If I grow,

the harvest is your own.

Sons, kinsmen, thanes,

and you whose places are the nearest, know

we will establish our estate upon

our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter

The Prince of Cumberland.

Which honor must not unaccompanied invest him only,

but signs of nobleness, like stars,

shall shine on all deservers.

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.

My worthy Cawdor!

The Prince of Cumberland!

That is a step on which I must fall down,

or else overleap,

for in my way it lies.

Stars,

hide your fires;

let not light see my black and deep desires.

The eye wink at the hand;

yet let that be,

which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.

Hie thee hither,

that I may pour my spirits in thine ear;

and chastise with the valor of my tongue

all that impedes thee from the golden round,

which fate and metaphysical aid

doth seem to have thee crowned withal.

The king comes here tonight.

Thou art mad to say it!

Is not thy master with him?

Who, were it so, would have informed for preparation.

So please you, it is true.

Our thane is coming.

Come,

you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts,

unsex me here,

and fill me from the crown to the toe

top-full of direst cruelty!

Make thick my blood;

stop up the access and passage to remorse,

that no compunctious visitings of nature

shake my fell purpose.

Great Glamis!

- Worthy Cawdor! - Cawdor!

Greater than both,

by the all-hail hereafter!

Thy 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 when goes hence?

Tomorrow, as he purposes.

Never shall sun that morrow see!

Your face,

my thane,

is as a book where men may read strange matters.

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;

which shall to all our nights and days to come

give solely

sovereign sway

and masterdom.

We will speak further.

Only look up clear;

to alter favor ever is to fear.

Leave all the rest...

to me.

If it were done when 'tis done,

then 'twere 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 the end-all here.

But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,

weed 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 poisoned 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 murderer shut the door,

not bear the knife myself.

Besides, this Duncan hath borne his faculties so meek,

hath been so...

clear in his great office.

I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent,

but only vaulting ambition, which overleaps itself

and falls on the other.

Why have you left the chamber?

We will proceed no further in this business.

I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people,

which would be worn now in their newest gloss,

not cast aside so soon.

Was the hope drunk wherein you dressed yourself?

Hath 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 afeard

to be the same in thine own act and valor

as thou art in desire?

Wouldst thou have that

which thou esteemest the ornament of life,

and live a coward in thine own esteem,

letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would"?

Prithee, peace!

I dare do all that may become a man;

who dares do more is none.

When you durst do it, then you were a man!

And, to be more than what you were,

you would be so much more the man.

I have given suck,

and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me.

I would, while it was smiling in my face,

have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums,

and dashed the brains out, had I so sworn

as you have done to this.

If we should fail?

We fail!

But screw your courage to the sticking-place,

and we'll not fail.

When Duncan is asleep his two chamberlains

will I with wine and wassail so convince that memory,

the warder of the brain, shall be a fume,

and the receipt of reason a limbeck only.

When in swinish sleep

their drenched natures lie as in a death,

what cannot you and I perform upon the unguarded Duncan?

What not put upon his spongy officers,

who shall bear the guilt of our great quell?

Bring forth men-children only;

for thy undaunted mettle should compose

nothing but males.

Will it not be received,

when we have marked with blood those sleepy two

and used their very daggers, that they have done it?

Who dares receive it other?

I am settled.

Away, and mock the time with fairest show,

false face must hide

what the false heart doth know.

- Come on. - Come on, there I go.

How goes the night, boy?

There's husbandry in heaven;

their candles are all out.

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!

What, sir, not yet at rest?

The king is a-bed.

He hath been in unusual pleasure,

and sent forth great largess to your offices.

This

he greets your wife withal,

by the name of most kind hostess.

I dream last night of the weird sisters.

To you they have showed some truth.

Well, I think not of them.

Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,

we'd spend it in some words upon that business,

if you would grant the time.

At your kindest leisure.

If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis,

it shall make honor for you.

So I lose none in seeking to augment it,

but still keep my bosom franchised and allegiance clear,

I shall be counseled.

Good repose the while!

Thanks, sir, the like to you!

Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,

she strike upon the bell.

Get thee to bed.

Is this a dagger which I see before me,

the handle toward my hand?

Come, let me clutch thee.

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible

to feeling as to sight?

Or art thou but a dagger of the mind,

a false creation proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

I see thee yet,

in form as palpable as this which now I draw.

Thou marshallest me the way that I was going;

and such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools of all the other senses,

or else worth all the rest, I see thee still,

and on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,

which was not so before.

There's no such thing.

It is the bloody business

which informs thus to mine eyes.

Now over

the one half world nature seems dead,

and wicked dreams abuse the curtained sleep;

and withered murder,

alarmed by his sentinel, the wolf,

whose howl's his watch,

thus with his stealthy pace.

With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design

moves...

like a ghost.

Thou sure and firm-set earth,

hear not my steps, which way they walk,

for fear thy very stones prate of my whereabout,

and take the present horror from the time,

which now suits with it.

Whiles I threat,

he lives.

Words to the heat of deeds

too cold breath gives.

I go,

and it is done;

the bell invites me.

Hear it not, Duncan;

for it is a knell that summons thee to heaven

or to hell.

My husband!

I have done the deed.

Didst thou not hear a noise?

I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.

Did not you speak?

- When? - Now.

- As I descended? - Aye.

Hark!

This is a sorry sight.

A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

There's one did laugh in his sleep,

and one cried "Murder!"

That they did wake each other,

I stood and heard them.

But they did say their prayers,

and addressed them again to sleep.

There are two lodged together.

One cried "God bless us!" and "Amen" the other;

as they had seen me with these hangman hands.

Listening their fear, I could not say "Amen,"

when they did say

- "God bless us!" - Consider it not so deeply.

But wherefore could not I pronounce "Amen"?

I had most need of blessing,

and "Amen" stuck in my throat.

These deeds must not be thought after these ways;

so, it will make us mad.

Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more!

"Macbeth does murder sleep."

The innocent sleep,

sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care,

the death of each day's life.

- What do you mean? - Still it cried

"Sleep no more!" to all the house,

"Glamis hath murdered sleep,

"and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more;

"Macbeth shall sleep no more."

You do unbend your noble strength

to think so brainsickly of things.

Go,

get some water,

and wash this filthy witness from your hands.

Why did you bring these daggers from the place?

They must lie there!

Go carry them and smear the sleepy grooms with blood.

I'll go no more.

I am afraid to think what I have done;

look on it again

I dare not.

Give me the daggers.

The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures.

'Tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil.

If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal;

for it must seem their guilt.

What hands are here?

Ah, they pluck out mine eyes.

Will all great Neptune's ocean

wash this blood clean from my hand?

How is it with me, when every noise appalls me?

My hands are of your color.

But I shame to wear a heart so white.

There's a knocking at the south entry,

retire we to our chamber.

A little water clears us of this deed.

How easy is it, then!

Get on your nightgown,

lest occasion call us, and show us to be watchers.

Be not lost so poorly in your thoughts.

To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.

Wake Duncan with thy knocking.

I would thou couldst!

Is thy master stirring?

Right.

Is the king stirring, worthy thane?

Not yet.

Ah-ah, he did command me to call timely on him.

I have almost slipped the hour.

I'll bring you to him.

I know this is of joyful trouble to you;

but yet 'tis one.

The labor we delight in physics pain.

That is the door.

I'll make so bold as to call,

for 'tis my limited service.

Horror!

- What's the matter? - Most sacrilegious murder

hath broke ope the Lord's anointed temple,

and stole thence the life of the building!

Awake.

Awake!

- Banquo and Donalbain! - What's the business?

Awake.

Speak.

Speak!

O Banquo.

O Banquo, our royal master is murdered.

Woe,

alas!

What, in our house?

Too cruel any where.

Had I but died an hour before this chance,

I had lived a blessed time;

for, from this instant,

there is nothing serious in mortality.

All is but toys:

renown and grace is dead;

the wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees

is left this vault to brag of.

What is amiss?

You are, and do not know it:

the spring, the head, the fountain of your blood is stopped.

The very source of it is stopped.

Your royal father's murdered.

By whom?

Those of his chamber, as it seemed, had done it.

Their hands and faces were all badged with blood;

so were their daggers,

which unwiped we found upon their pillows.

They stared, and were distracted;

no man's life was to be trusted with them.

Ah yet I do repent me of my fury,

that I did kill them.

Wherefore did you so?

Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,

loyal and neutral, in a moment?

No man!

The expedition of my violent love

outran the pause or reason.

Here lay Duncan,

his silver skin laced with his golden blood;

and his gashed stabs looked like a breach in nature

for ruin's wasteful entrance.

There, the murderers,

steeped in the colors of their trade,

their daggers unmannerly breeched with gore,

who could refrain, that had a heart to love,

and in that heart courage to make's love known?

Why do we hold our tongues,

when most would claim this argument for ours?

What may be spoken here,

when our fate hid by an auger-hole,

may rush and seize us?

Let's away;

our tears are not yet brewed.

Nor our strong sorrow upon the foot of motion.

Look to the lady.

And when we have our naked frailties hid,

that suffer in exposure,

let us meet and question this most bloody piece of work

to know it further.

Fears and scruples shake us.

In the great hand of God I stand;

and thence against the undivulged pretense

I fight of treasonous malice.

And so do I.

So all.

Let's briefly put on manly readiness,

and meet at the hall together.

- Well contented. - Ay, well contented.

What will you do?

Let's not consort with them.

To show an unfelt sorrow is an office

which the false man does easy.

I'll to England.

To Ireland, I.

Our separated fortune shall keep us both the safer.

Where we are, there's daggers in men's smiles,

the near in blood, the nearer bloody.

Is't known who did this more than bloody deed?

Those that Macbeth hath slain.

Alas, the day!

What good could they pretend?

They were suborned.

Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's two sons,

are stolen away and fled,

which puts upon them suspicion of the deed.

Against nature still!

Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up

thine own life's means!

Then 'tis most like the sovereignty

will fall upon Macbeth.

He is already named,

and goes to Scone to be invested.

Thou hast it now:

king, Cawdor, Glamis,

all.

As the weird women promised,

and, I fear,

thou play'dst most foully for it.

Yet it was said

I should not stand in thy posterity,

but that myself should be the root

and father of many kings.

If there come truth from them

as upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine,

why, by the verities on thee made good,

may they not be my oracles as well,

and set me up in hope?

But hush!

No more.

Here's our chief guest.

Aye.

Tonight we hold a solemn supper sir,

and I'll request your presence.

Let your highness command upon me;

to the which my duties

are with a most indissoluble tie for ever knit.

Fail not our feast.

My lord, I will not.

We hear, our bloody cousins

are bestowed in England and in Ireland,

not confessing their cruel parricide,

filling their hearers with strange invention.

But of that tomorrow,

when therewithal we shall have cause of state

craving us jointly.

Hie you to horse, adieu,

till you return at night.

Goes Fleance with you?

Ay,

my good lord.

Our time does call upon us.

Farewell.

Let every man be master of his time till seven at night.

To make society the sweeter welcome,

we will keep ourself till supper-time alone.

While then,

God be with you.

To be

thus is nothing;

but to be safely thus.

Our fears in Banquo stick deep;

and in his royalty of nature

reigns that which would be feared.

There is none but he whose being I do fear.

And, under him, my genius is rebuked;

as, it is said, Mark Antony's was by Caesar.

He chid the sisters

when 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 scepter in my gripe,

thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand,

no son of mine succeeding.

If be so, for Banquo's issue have I filed my mind.

For them the gracious Duncan have I murdered

to make them kings,

the seed of Banquo kings!

Rather than so, come fate into the list

and champion me to the utterance!

- My lord. - Who's there!

Was it not yesterday we spoke together?

It was, so please your highness.

Both of you know Banquo was your enemy.

True, my lord.

True, my lord.

So is he mine;

and in such bloody distance,

that every minute of his being

thrusts against my nearest of life.

We shall, my lord, perform what you command us.

Though our lives be in...

Your spirits shine through you.

Within this hour at most

I will advise you where to plant yourselves;

for it must be done tonight,

and something from the palace.

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.

Resolve yourselves apart.

I'll come to you anon.

It is concluded.

Banquo, thy soul's flight,

if it find heaven, must find it out tonight.

Say to the king,

I would attend his leisure

for a few words.

Nought's had,

all's spent,

where our desire is got without content.

'Tis safer to be that which we destroy

than by destruction

dwell in doubtful joy.

How now, my lord!

Why do you keep alone?

Things without all remedy should be without regard.

What's done

is done.

We have scotched the snake,

not killed it.

Ere,

we will sleep in the affliction of these terrible dreams

that shake us nightly.

Ah, better be with the dead,

and we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,

than on the torture of the mind to lie in restless ecstasy.

Duncan's in his grave.

After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.

Treason has done his worst.

Nothing can touch him further.

Come on.

Gentle my lord.

Sleek o'er your rugged looks.

Be bright

and jovial among your guests tonight.

So shall I, love;

and so, I pray, be you.

Let your remembrance apply to Banquo.

Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue

and make our faces vizards to our hearts,

disguising what they are.

O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!

Thou knowest that Banquo and his Fleance, lives.

But in them nature's copy's not eterne.

Mm.

There's comfort yet, they are assailable.

Ere the bat hath flown his cloistered flight.

There shall be done a deed of dreadful note.

What's to be done?

Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,

till thou applaud the deed.

Come, seeling night,

scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day.

And with thy bloody and invisible hand

cancel and tear to pieces that great bond

which keeps me pale!

Light thickens,

and the crow makes wing to the rooky wood.

Good things of day begin to droop and drowse,

while night's black agents to their preys do rouse.

Thou marvellest at my words.

But hold thee still;

things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.

There's blood upon thy face.

'Tis Banquo's then.

'Tis better thee without than he within.

Is he dispatched?

My lord, his throat is cut;

that I did for him.

Thou art the best of the cut-throats.

Yet he is good that did the like for Fleance.

If thou didst it, thou art the nonpareil.

Most royal sir,

Fleance is 'scaped.

Comes my fit again.

Banquo's

- safe. - Safe in a ditch he bides,

with 20 trenched gashes on his head.

Thanks for that.

There the grown serpent lies;

the worm that's fled hath nature that in time

will venom breed.

No teeth for the present.

Get thee gone.

My royal lord.

You do not give the cheer.

Sweet remembrancer!

Now, good digestion wait on appetite,

and health on both!

May it please your highness sit.

Here have we now our country's honor roofed,

were the graced person of our Banquo present,

who may I rather challenge for unkindness

than pity for mischance!

His absence, sir, lays blame upon his promise.

Please your highness to grace us with your royal company.

The table's full.

Here is a place reserved, sir.

Where?

Here, my good lord.

Which of you have done this?

What, my good lord?

Thou chans't not say I did it.

Never shake thy gory locks at me.

Gentlemen, rise, his highness is not well.

Sit, worthy friends!

My lord is often thus, and hath been from his youth.

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? - Ay,

and a bold one, that dare look on that

which might appall the devil.

O proper stuff!

This is the very painting of your fear.

This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,

led you to Duncan.

O, these flaws and starts,

impostors to true fear,

would well become a woman's story after a winter's fire,

authorized by her grandam.

Shame itself!

Why do you make such faces?

When all's done, you look but on a stool.

Prithee, see there!

Behold, look, lo!

How say you?

Why, what care I?

Oh, if thou canst nod, speak too.

If charnel-houses and our graves must send

those that we bury back,

our monuments shall be the maws of kites.

What, quite unmanned in folly?

If I stand here, I saw him.

Fie, for shame!

Blood hath been shed ere now, in the olden time,

ere human statute purged the gentle weal; ay,

and since too, murders have been performed

too terrible for the ear.

The time has been,

that, when the brains were out, the man would die,

and there an end.

But now they rise again,

with 20 mortal murders on their crowns,

and push us from our stools.

This is more strange than such a murder is.

My worthy lord!

Your noble friends do lack you.

I do forget.

Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends.

I have a strange infirmity,

which is nothing to those that know me.

Come, love and health to all;

then I'll sit down.

Give me some wine; fill full.

I drink to the general joy of the whole table,

and to our dear friend Banquo,

whom we miss

would he were here!

To all, and him, we thirst.

And all to all.

Our duties, and the pledge.

Avaunt!

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 this, good peers,

but as a thing of custom, 'tis no other;

only it spoils the pleasure of the time.

What man dare,

I dare.

Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,

the armed rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger,

take any shape but that.

And my firm nerves shall never tremble.

Or be alive again,

and dare me to the desert with thy sword.

If trembling I inhabit

then, protest me the baby of a girl.

Hence, horrible shadow!

Unreal mockery,

hence!

Why,

so being gone, I am a man again.

Pray thee,

sit still.

You have displaced the mirth,

broke the good meeting with most admired disorder.

Can such things be,

and overcome us like a summer's cloud,

without our special wonder?

You make me strange

even to the disposition that I owe,

when 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.

At once, good night.

Stand not upon the order of your going, but go

at once!

Good night.

And better health attend his majesty!

A kind good night to all.

It will have blood, they say,

blood will have blood.

Stones have been known to move

and trees to speak.

Augurs and understood relations

have by magot-pies and choughs and rooks

brought forth the secretest man of blood.

What is the night?

Almost at odds with morning,

which is which.

How sayest thou, that Macduff denies his person

at our great bidding?

Did you send to him, sir?

I hear it by the way; but I will send.

There's not one of them but in his house

I keep a servant fee'd.

For mine own good,

all causes shall give way.

I am in blood

stepped in so far that, should I wade no more,

returning were as

tedious as go o'er.

Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;

which must be acted

ere they may be scanned.

You lack the season of all natures...

sleep.

Come,

we'll to sleep.

My strange and self-abuse is the initiate fear

that wants hard use.

We are yet but young in deed.

I conjure you,

by that which you profess,

howe'er you come to know it, answer me.

Speak, demand, we'll answer.

There's knocking at the gate.

There's knocking at the gate.

Macbeth!

Macbeth, Macbeth beware Macduff,

beware the Thane of Fife.

There's knocking at the gate.

Be bloody, bold, and resolute;

laugh to scorn the power of man,

for none of woman born shall harm Macbeth.

Then live, Macduff.

What need I fear of thee?

But yet I'll make assurance double sure,

and take a bond of fate.

Thou shall not live;

that I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,

and sleep in spite of thunder.

Be lion-mettled, proud,

and take no care who chafes, who frets,

or where conspirers are.

Macbeth shall never vanquished be

until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill

shall come against him.

That will never be.

Who can impress the forest,

bid the tree unfix his earth-bound root?

Sweet bodements good!

And yet my heart throbs to know one thing.

Tell me, if your art can tell so much,

shall Banquo's issue ever reign in this kingdom?

Seek to know no more.

I will be satisfied.

Deny me this, and an eternal curse fall on you!

Show his eyes,

grieve his heart;

come like shadows, so depart!

There's knocking at the gate.

Where are they?

Gone?

There's knocking at the gate.

There's knocking at the gate.

Let this pernicious hour

stand aye accursed in the calendar!

There's knocking at the gate.

There's knocking at the gate.

My lord.

Macduff is fled to England.

Fled to England!

Ay, my good lord.

Time,

thou anticipatest my dread exploits.

The flighty purpose never is overtook

unless the deed go with it.

From this moment the very firstlings of my heart

shall be the firstlings of my hand.

And even now, to crown my thoughts with acts,

be it thought and done.

The castle of Macduff I will surprise;

seize upon Fife; give to the edge of the sword

his wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls

that trace him in his line.

No boasting like the fool;

this deed I'll do before this purpose cool.

I have two nights watched with you,

but can perceive no truth in your report.

I have seen her rise from her bed,

throw her night-gown upon her,

unlock her closet,

take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it,

afterwards seal it, and again return to bed;

yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

A great perturbation in nature.

In this slumbery agitation,

besides her walking and other actual performances,

what, at any time, have you heard her say?

That, sir, which I will not report after her

having no witness to confirm my speech.

Lo you, here she comes!

This is her very guise;

and, upon my life, fast asleep.

Observe her, stand close.

Yet here's a spot.

Out,

damned spot!

Out, I say!

One,

two.

Why, then, 'tis time to do it.

Hell

is murky.

Fie, my lord, fie!

A soldier, and afeard?

What need we fear who knows it,

when none can hold our power to account?

Yet who would have thought the old man

to have had so much blood in him.

The Thane of Fife had a wife.

Where is she now?

Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.

She has spoke what she should not,

I am sure of that.

Heaven knows what she has known.

Here's the smell of the blood still.

All the perfumes of Arabia

will not sweeten this little hand.

What a sigh is there!

The heart is sorely charged.

This disease is beyond my practice.

Wash your hands,

put on your nightgown; look not so pale

I tell you yet again,

Banquo's buried;

he cannot come out on's grave.

To bed.

To bed!

There's knocking at the gate.

Come!

Come...

give me your hand.

What's done

cannot be

undone.

To bed.

To bed.

To bed.

To bed.

To bed.

To bed.

Will she go now to bed?

Directly.

Foul whisperings are abroad.

Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles.

Infected minds to their deaf pillows

will discharge their secrets.

More needs she the divine than the physician.

God, God forgive us all!

Look after her.

Remove from her the means of all annoyance,

and still keep eyes upon her.

So, good night.

My mind she has mated,

and amazed my sight.

I think,

but dare not speak.

I have words that will be howled in the desert air,

where hearing should not latch them.

Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,

which shall possess them with the heaviest sound

that ever yet they heard.

I guess at it.

Your castle is surprised;

your wife and babes savagely slaughtered.

To relate the manner, were, on the quarry

of these murdered deer,

to add the death of you.

My children too?

Wife, children, servants,

all that could be found.

And I must be from thence.

My wife killed too?

I have said.

No!

Be comforted.

Now let's make us medicines of our great revenge,

to cure this deadly grief.

He has no children.

All my pretty ones?

Did you say all?

O hell-kite!

All my pretty chickens and their dam at one fell swoop?

Dispute it like a man.

I shall do so!

But I must also feel it as a man.

I cannot but remember such things

that were most precious to me.

Did heaven look on and would not take their part?

Sinful Macduff,

they were all struck for thee!

Naught that I am,

not for their own demerits, but for mine,

fell slaughter on their souls.

Heaven rest them now.

Be this the whetstone of your sword.

Let grief convert to anger;

blunt not the heart, enrage it.

O,

I could play the woman with mine eyes

and braggart with my tongue.

But, gentle heavens,

cut short all intermission;

front to front bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself.

Upon my sword's length set him.

If he 'scape,

heaven forgive him too!

This tune goes manly.

Come, go we to the king.

Our power is ready.

Our lack is nothing but our leave.

Macbeth is ripe for the shaking,

and the powers above put on their instruments.

Receive what cheer you may.

The night is long that never finds the day.

The English power is near,

led on by Malcolm and Macduff.

Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes

which the bleeding and the grim alarm

excite the mortified man.

What does the tyrant?

Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies.

Some say he's mad;

others that lesser hate him do call it valiant fury.

But, for certain,

he cannot buckle his distempered cause

within the belt of rule.

Now does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands.

Those he commands move only in command,

nothing in love.

Now does he feel his title hang loose about him,

like a giant's robe upon a dwarfish thief.

Bring me no more reports;

let them fly all.

Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,

I cannot taint with fear.

What's the boy Malcolm?

Was he not born of woman?

Then fly false thanes,

and mingle with the English epicures.

The mind I sway by and the heart I bear

shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.

The English force, so please you.

Devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!

Take thy face hence!

Seyton!

I am sick at heart when I behold.

Seyton, I say!

This push

will cheer me ever,

or disseat me now.

I have lived long enough.

My way of life is fallen into the sear,

the yellow leaf.

And that which should accompany old age as

honor, love,

obedience,

troops of friends, I must not look to have.

But, in their stead,

curses,

not loud but deep,

mouth-honor,

breath, which the poor heart would fain deny,

and dare not.

Seyton!

What is your gracious pleasure?

What news more?

All is confirmed, my lord,

which was reported.

I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hacked.

Give me my armor!

'Tis not needed y...

Send out more horses.

Skirr the country round.

Hang those that talk of fear.

Give me mine armor.

How does your patient, doctor?

Not so sick, my lord,

as she is troubled with thick coming fancies

that keep her from her rest.

Mm.

Cure her of that.

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,

pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,

raze out the written troubles of the brain

and with some sweet oblivious antidote

cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff

that weighs upon the heart?

Therein the patient must minister to himself.

Throw physic to the dogs;

I'll none of it.

Come,

put mine armor on.

Give me my staff.

Seyton, send out.

Doctor, the thanes fly from me.

Come, sir, dispatch.

If thou couldst, doctor,

cast the water of my land, find her disease,

and purge it to a sound and pristine health,

I would applaud thee to the very echo

that should applaud again.

Pull it off, I say.

What rhubarb,

cyme, or what purgative drug,

would scour these English hence?

Hear'st thou of them?

Ay, my good lord;

your royal preparation makes us hear something.

Mm.

I will not be afraid of death and bane,

till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.

Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,

profit again should hardly draw me here.

What wood is this?

The wood of Birnam.

Let every soldier

hew him down a bough and bear't before him.

Thereby shall we shadow the numbers of our host

and make discovery err in report of us.

- Report of us. - It shall be done.

We learn no other

but the confident tyrant keeps still in Dunsinane,

and will endure our setting down before it.

'Tis his main hope.

For where there is advantage to be given,

both more and less have given him the revolt.

And none serve with him but constrained things

whose hearts are absent too.

Hang out our banners on the outward walls.

The cry is still "They come."

Our castle's strength will laugh a siege to scorn.

Here let them lie till famine and the ague eat them up.

Were they not forced with those that should be ours,

we might have met them dareful beard-to-beard

and beat them backward home.

What is that noise?

I've almost forgot the taste of fears;

the time has been, my senses would have cooled

to hear a night-shriek.

I have supped full with horrors.

Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts

cannot once start me.

Wherefore was that cry?

The queen, my lord...

is dead.

She should have died hereafter;

there would have been a time for such a word.

- My lord. - Thou comest to use

thy tongue thy story quickly.

Gracious my lord.

I should report that which I say I saw,

but know not how to do it.

Well, say.

As I did stand my watch upon the hill,

I looked toward Birnam,

and anon, methought, the wood began to move.

Liar!

And slave!

Let me endure your wrath, if it be not so.

Within this three mile may you see it coming, I say,

a moving grove.

If thou speak'st false,

upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive

till famine cling thee.

If thy speech be sooth,

I care not if thou dost for me as much.

Fear not,

till Birnam wood

do come to Dunsinane.

And now a wood comes toward Dunsinane.

Arm!

Arm and out!

If this which he avouches does appear,

there is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.

I gin to be aweary of the sun,

and wish the estate of the world were now undone.

Ring the alarm-bell!

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.

What is thy name?

Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

No.

Though thou callest thyself a hotter name

than any is in hell.

My name is Macbeth.

The devil himself could not pronounce

a title more hateful to mine ear.

No,

nor more fearful.

Thou wast born of woman.

Swords I smile at,

weapons laugh to scorn,

brandished by man that's of a woman born.

Tyrant, show thy face!

If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine,

my wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.

This way, my lord.

The castle is gently rendered.

The tyrant's people on both sides do fight.

The day almost itself professes yours,

and little is to do.

Enter, sir, the castle.

Why should I play the Roman fool

and die on mine own sword?

Whiles I see lives,

the gashes do better upon them.

Turn hell-hound.

Turn!

Of all men else I have avoided thee.

But get thee back;

my soul is too much charged with blood of thine already.

I have no words.

My voice is in my sword.

Thou losest labor.

As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air

with thy keen sword impress as make me bleed.

Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests.

I bear a charmed life,

which must not yield to one of woman born.

Despair thy charm,

and let the angel whom thou still hast served tell thee,

Macduff was from his mother's womb untimely ripped.

Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,

for it hath cow'd my better part of man!

I'll not fight with thee.

Then yield thee, coward,

and live to be the show and gaze of the time.

We'll have thee,

as our rarer monsters are,

painted on a pole and underwrit,

"Here may you see the tyrant."

I will not yield

to kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet.

And to be baited with the rabble's curse.

Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,

and thou opposed, being of no woman born.

Yet I will try the last.

Lay on, Macduff,

and damned be him that first cries,

"Hold, enough!"

Tomorrow,

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 is heard no more.

It is a tale told by an idiot,

full of sound and fury,

signifying...

nothing.

Hail, King of Scotland!

Hail, King of Scotland!

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